#500 - [FIC] Persuasion (Cobb/Yusuf)
Today is only good for archiving. Apologies in advance for the spam.
Title: Persuasion
Word Count: 1,300
Pairing: Cobb/Yusuf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yusuf knows he has something Cobb wants. The real question is whether Cobb has something he wants.
Warnings: Non/dub-con, coercion, hatesexing without proper protection, hints of repressed-homosexual!Cobb
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: Written a month ago for this prompt on the kinkmeme. Minor edits have been made.
“You must be Mr. Cobb.”
He looks well in a leather jacket the color of dark caramel, save for the fact that it’s an inch too short at the cuffs and too tight across his shoulders. The sodium lights catch the revolver at his belt and the Brilliantine in his hair, blond and slicked-back in an attempt to belie the fact that, at thirty-three, he looks like nothing so much as an overgrown school boy.
He sits without invitation, slouching back in the chair and scratching the fine stubble growing on his jaw. The neck of his rumpled dress shirt hangs open to reveal a throat that glistens under a fine sheen of sweat. Dominick Cobb has the sallow complexion of an early-stage alcoholic, but he’s attractive enough, for an American.
Yusuf dislikes him on sight.
"You're a very long way from home," he says as Cobb fiddles with his wristwatch.
A counterfeit Rolex, by the looks of it. Whether he's the sort of man to strike a bargain where he can or merely oblivious to the fact that his timepiece is worthless is but one of the many questions Yusuf would like answered.
"Are you enjoying your stay?"
"You can skip the chit-chat. I'm not here to talk."
"Very well," he says, folding his hands atop the desk. "What brings you to Mombasa, Mr. Cobb?"
“You have something I want.”
Yusuf chuckles. "Oh, I'm sure I do. But the real question is whether or not you have something I want."
He sits back and waits to see what Cobb is willing to offer for his assistance. Yusuf is a betting man and he's willing to lay quite a lot on the assumption that Dominick Cobb's currency is, well, currency. Yusuf smiles as he produces a stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills. American greenbacks, freshly minted.
“Ten grand, tax free.”
"Try again."
There's a tick coming out in Cobb's cheek, now. Subtle enough that Yusuf might be inclined to miss it if he weren't looking for such a quirk. Cobb doesn't strike him as the sort of man who keeps his anger in check very well. But it's still early-perhaps too early to tell for certain.
Cobb slaps another wad of cash in front of him and Yusuf shakes his head.
"Better, but I’m afraid it takes more than money to obtain my particular services.”
“I don’t follow.”
"I gather that you need my help rather badly,” Yusuf says, watching as Cobb stiffens ever so slightly. “As a matter of fact, I do believe that without me, your plans cannot come to fruition."
"There are plenty of good chemists," Cobb says, all false bravado. Yusuf can see it in the heft of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. So sure that no one will call his bluff. “I can always find someone else.”
"Then our business here is done.” Yusuf pushes his chair back from his desk and stands. “I bid you good night and good luck with your venture, Mr. Cobb."
He gets three steps before Cobb is grabbing his shoulder. “Wait a second.”
“Yes?”
Cobb stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rocks back on his heels. “What are we looking at here? Besides the money.”
Yusuf enjoys his unease; the quiet of it, the way it makes his brow knit up and his eyes flicker back and forth. It isn’t driven by stupidity. Cobb isn’t stupid. Far from it. But he’s almost certainly foolish and perhaps even as naïve as his baby face and blue eyes make him appear.
His look of helplessness is nothing short of delicious.
"That all depends on you, doesn’t it? Make me an offer I can't refuse."
"I don't know what you want."
He smiles and spreads his hands. "What does any man want?"
Yusuf can be a patient man when it suits him. He gives his words time to sink in, keeping an eye on Cobb to watch how he takes it. If he reddens, well, that's to be expected. But he doesn't balk, which is impressive in its own right. Yusuf doesn't like him any more for it, but there's a sort of respect that goes with poise.
Cobb leans in too quickly, crowding Yusuf against the shelves. His lips are dry, his breath redolent of cheap scotch and cigarettes. Broken glass crunches beneath their feet. The sickly sweet smell of benzene tickles his nose. Beneath it, Yusuf can smell Cobb's leather jacket and his sweat, metallic with desperation.
"Turn around," he murmurs.
"What?"
"You asked me what it was I wanted," Yusuf said. "If you want my help, turn around."
Cobb's eyes flash hot with hatred that excites Yusuf no less than the rest of it, but he turns. Yusuf makes quick work of his trousers, letting them pool at his ankles and stepping back for a moment to admire the rather delectable curve of the man's ass before sucking two fingers into his mouth and dipping them between Cobb's cheeks. He's wound up taut as a bowstring, but Yusuf gets a finger inside, and then another while Cobb shakes and grips the shelves with white knuckles.
"I think I could fuck you with three fingers if I wanted,” Yusuf remarks. “You’re so terribly loose. Maybe four. Have you done this before?"
"Fuck you," Cobb grits out. "Just fucking-fuck you. Get on with it."
Yusuf slides a hand around his hip to stroke him, pleased to find him hard. Remarkably easy. It could be fear that has him stiff, even anger. But Yusuf thinks it's the novelty of the situation-that unexpected swoop of vertigo upon realizing the tables have turned and the subsequent surge of pleasure found in submission. Cobb is enjoying this more than he realizes.
"You thought you could insult me," Yusuf says. "You offered me far less than my help is worth and thought I would let you."
"Ten grand is standard," he says, breathless. "You want more, you can have it."
"Later, perhaps." Yusuf withdraws his fingers and lines up his cock with Cobb's hole, stretched and glistening in the light. "For now, this is all I require."
Cobb grunts at the first couple inches, but the glide is smooth and hot as Yusuf slides in, sighing at the way Cobb spasms around his first thrusts. As everything before, it's remarkably easy. He takes it slow at first, leaning back a little to admire the sight of Cobb stretched tight around his cock as he works his way in and out.
Cobb sucks in a sharp breath. "Come on, I'm not your damn prom date."
Yusuf stops and draws back until he has only the head inside. "Show me how you want it, then."
He can hear Cobb's heart rate spiking, his breathing coming in short bursts. Yusuf isn't sure if he'll do it or not, but then he does. He shoves back and though there's no finesse to it, he makes a lovely picture fucking himself shallow and quick on Yusuf's cock. When he starts thrusting again, Cobb doesn't stop. A raw moan tears its way out of his throat and then another as he presses himself onto Yusuf again and again. There's sweat pooling at the small of his back, trickling down his ass, rosy from the fucking and the friction.
It's not long before Yusuf is spilling inside him, past concern for whether or not Cobb is close to finishing. From the way he sounds, it likely wouldn't take more than a stroke or two to have him coming hot over his fingers.
But that isn't part of their bargain.
Yusuf pulls out of him and does himself back up, watching the semen trickle down Cobb's thighs as he stays bent over, shaking and trying to catch his breath. He makes quite a sight. Yusuf could get used to seeing him like this, provided he never has to hear the man speak again.
"I think we're finished here, Mr. Cobb. We'll meet again tomorrow evening to discuss the final terms of the agreement. I should have a sample of what you require by then."
Cobb busies himself with his belt buckle. "You got what you wanted, then?"
"Yes."
He rather thinks they both did.
Title: Persuasion
Word Count: 1,300
Pairing: Cobb/Yusuf
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Yusuf knows he has something Cobb wants. The real question is whether Cobb has something he wants.
Warnings: Non/dub-con, coercion, hatesexing without proper protection, hints of repressed-homosexual!Cobb
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: Written a month ago for this prompt on the kinkmeme. Minor edits have been made.
“You must be Mr. Cobb.”
He looks well in a leather jacket the color of dark caramel, save for the fact that it’s an inch too short at the cuffs and too tight across his shoulders. The sodium lights catch the revolver at his belt and the Brilliantine in his hair, blond and slicked-back in an attempt to belie the fact that, at thirty-three, he looks like nothing so much as an overgrown school boy.
He sits without invitation, slouching back in the chair and scratching the fine stubble growing on his jaw. The neck of his rumpled dress shirt hangs open to reveal a throat that glistens under a fine sheen of sweat. Dominick Cobb has the sallow complexion of an early-stage alcoholic, but he’s attractive enough, for an American.
Yusuf dislikes him on sight.
"You're a very long way from home," he says as Cobb fiddles with his wristwatch.
A counterfeit Rolex, by the looks of it. Whether he's the sort of man to strike a bargain where he can or merely oblivious to the fact that his timepiece is worthless is but one of the many questions Yusuf would like answered.
"Are you enjoying your stay?"
"You can skip the chit-chat. I'm not here to talk."
"Very well," he says, folding his hands atop the desk. "What brings you to Mombasa, Mr. Cobb?"
“You have something I want.”
Yusuf chuckles. "Oh, I'm sure I do. But the real question is whether or not you have something I want."
He sits back and waits to see what Cobb is willing to offer for his assistance. Yusuf is a betting man and he's willing to lay quite a lot on the assumption that Dominick Cobb's currency is, well, currency. Yusuf smiles as he produces a stack of crisp, hundred-dollar bills. American greenbacks, freshly minted.
“Ten grand, tax free.”
"Try again."
There's a tick coming out in Cobb's cheek, now. Subtle enough that Yusuf might be inclined to miss it if he weren't looking for such a quirk. Cobb doesn't strike him as the sort of man who keeps his anger in check very well. But it's still early-perhaps too early to tell for certain.
Cobb slaps another wad of cash in front of him and Yusuf shakes his head.
"Better, but I’m afraid it takes more than money to obtain my particular services.”
“I don’t follow.”
"I gather that you need my help rather badly,” Yusuf says, watching as Cobb stiffens ever so slightly. “As a matter of fact, I do believe that without me, your plans cannot come to fruition."
"There are plenty of good chemists," Cobb says, all false bravado. Yusuf can see it in the heft of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. So sure that no one will call his bluff. “I can always find someone else.”
"Then our business here is done.” Yusuf pushes his chair back from his desk and stands. “I bid you good night and good luck with your venture, Mr. Cobb."
He gets three steps before Cobb is grabbing his shoulder. “Wait a second.”
“Yes?”
Cobb stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket and rocks back on his heels. “What are we looking at here? Besides the money.”
Yusuf enjoys his unease; the quiet of it, the way it makes his brow knit up and his eyes flicker back and forth. It isn’t driven by stupidity. Cobb isn’t stupid. Far from it. But he’s almost certainly foolish and perhaps even as naïve as his baby face and blue eyes make him appear.
His look of helplessness is nothing short of delicious.
"That all depends on you, doesn’t it? Make me an offer I can't refuse."
"I don't know what you want."
He smiles and spreads his hands. "What does any man want?"
Yusuf can be a patient man when it suits him. He gives his words time to sink in, keeping an eye on Cobb to watch how he takes it. If he reddens, well, that's to be expected. But he doesn't balk, which is impressive in its own right. Yusuf doesn't like him any more for it, but there's a sort of respect that goes with poise.
Cobb leans in too quickly, crowding Yusuf against the shelves. His lips are dry, his breath redolent of cheap scotch and cigarettes. Broken glass crunches beneath their feet. The sickly sweet smell of benzene tickles his nose. Beneath it, Yusuf can smell Cobb's leather jacket and his sweat, metallic with desperation.
"Turn around," he murmurs.
"What?"
"You asked me what it was I wanted," Yusuf said. "If you want my help, turn around."
Cobb's eyes flash hot with hatred that excites Yusuf no less than the rest of it, but he turns. Yusuf makes quick work of his trousers, letting them pool at his ankles and stepping back for a moment to admire the rather delectable curve of the man's ass before sucking two fingers into his mouth and dipping them between Cobb's cheeks. He's wound up taut as a bowstring, but Yusuf gets a finger inside, and then another while Cobb shakes and grips the shelves with white knuckles.
"I think I could fuck you with three fingers if I wanted,” Yusuf remarks. “You’re so terribly loose. Maybe four. Have you done this before?"
"Fuck you," Cobb grits out. "Just fucking-fuck you. Get on with it."
Yusuf slides a hand around his hip to stroke him, pleased to find him hard. Remarkably easy. It could be fear that has him stiff, even anger. But Yusuf thinks it's the novelty of the situation-that unexpected swoop of vertigo upon realizing the tables have turned and the subsequent surge of pleasure found in submission. Cobb is enjoying this more than he realizes.
"You thought you could insult me," Yusuf says. "You offered me far less than my help is worth and thought I would let you."
"Ten grand is standard," he says, breathless. "You want more, you can have it."
"Later, perhaps." Yusuf withdraws his fingers and lines up his cock with Cobb's hole, stretched and glistening in the light. "For now, this is all I require."
Cobb grunts at the first couple inches, but the glide is smooth and hot as Yusuf slides in, sighing at the way Cobb spasms around his first thrusts. As everything before, it's remarkably easy. He takes it slow at first, leaning back a little to admire the sight of Cobb stretched tight around his cock as he works his way in and out.
Cobb sucks in a sharp breath. "Come on, I'm not your damn prom date."
Yusuf stops and draws back until he has only the head inside. "Show me how you want it, then."
He can hear Cobb's heart rate spiking, his breathing coming in short bursts. Yusuf isn't sure if he'll do it or not, but then he does. He shoves back and though there's no finesse to it, he makes a lovely picture fucking himself shallow and quick on Yusuf's cock. When he starts thrusting again, Cobb doesn't stop. A raw moan tears its way out of his throat and then another as he presses himself onto Yusuf again and again. There's sweat pooling at the small of his back, trickling down his ass, rosy from the fucking and the friction.
It's not long before Yusuf is spilling inside him, past concern for whether or not Cobb is close to finishing. From the way he sounds, it likely wouldn't take more than a stroke or two to have him coming hot over his fingers.
But that isn't part of their bargain.
Yusuf pulls out of him and does himself back up, watching the semen trickle down Cobb's thighs as he stays bent over, shaking and trying to catch his breath. He makes quite a sight. Yusuf could get used to seeing him like this, provided he never has to hear the man speak again.
"I think we're finished here, Mr. Cobb. We'll meet again tomorrow evening to discuss the final terms of the agreement. I should have a sample of what you require by then."
Cobb busies himself with his belt buckle. "You got what you wanted, then?"
"Yes."
He rather thinks they both did.