#503 - [FIC] Settling the Score (Saito/Various)
Title: Settling the Score
Word Count: 3,300
Pairing: Ariadne/Saito, Arthur/Cobb/Saito, Arthur/Eames/Saito, Cobb/Saito, Eames/Saito, Eames/Yusuf/Saito
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Post-Inception gangbang. Fischer watches the team fuck Saito.
Warnings: non/dub-con with a side of reluctant arousal, coercion, voyeurism, DP, pegging, barebacking, what-is-this-angst-in-my-porn
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: Written for an anon my slasherrific partner in crime, koushi, at forgerness' fest and also for the "gangbang" and "humiliation" squares on my Kink Bingo card.
"You have a minute to decide who's first. Any longer and I'll decide for you."
It's Fischer's first ultimatum, but Saito has a feeling it won't be the last. He shuts out the talk, Cobb and Arthur and the rest, and focuses on the simpler task of undressing. There are worse things, he supposes, than being the plaything of Robert Fischer. He could be dead, for one. Dead or rotting in a holding cell somewhere, awaiting a trial that will never come until he dies of starvation, exposure, a simple bullet to the head, or something else entirely.
There are as many ways to seek revenge as there are men to seek it.
Saito finishes folding his things, watch and ring deposited neatly on top of the pile, just as Eames starts in on his belt. They've decided, then. Eames glances at him and then over at Fischer, seated opposite the bed with a glass of brandy at his elbow and his legs neatly crossed.
"You wouldn't send a bloke out into the wild unarmed, would you, Bobby?" Eames says, belt wrapped around his fist. "Any chance of a condom?"
"Unnecessary. You have everything you need."
"Come on, now. We're your guests. Show a little hospitality."
Fischer sighs and turns his glass in his hands. "You're stalling and my time is very valuable. Don't upset me. You're in enough trouble as it is."
Eames turns back to him with a slight roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Well, I tried.
Saito offers him a small smile in return. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Eames says, gruffly, as he tugs his trousers down. "I did it for myself, didn't I?"
There's nothing he can say. With the current crowd of spectators, looking is the far safer activity. And it is infinitely more pleasant. Mr. Eames is not a man Saito would object to bedding under more regular circumstances, with the benefit of a proper seduction. Even soft, his cock hangs heavy and fat between thighs furred with light hair. Eames pulls himself to stiffness and motions for Saito to lie on his stomach.
He goes without complaint and rises up on his hands and knees, eyes to the wall.
"The other direction," Fischer says. "I want you to see everyone, Saito. Watching your humiliation."
There's a quiet sort of shame that comes with being on display, naked and spread apart, for people who are not his betters, but his shame is not their concern. That is an issue for him and Fischer to hash out between them. Fischer is a man who understands the sort of humiliation that comes to a man of his status.
Other than Fischer and Yusuf, whose look of clinical detachment is belied by his white-knuckled fists, no one is watching as Eames smears lube onto him, pushing it inside with two thick fingers, quickly scissored and pulled back before the lube even has a chance to warm. Ariadne stands apart, her hands in her pockets and her eyes on her sneakers. Arthur and Cobb look to be in quiet conference.
Saito feels Eames' weight come down against his back, fully-clothed. His thighs, his hands, his cock, are the only places Saito can feel skin. There's a reason for his briskness. Saito has no intention of looking at him, but he can hear the sharp click of Fischer's shoe as he taps his foot in impatience.
"Just bear down. I'll try to make this short," Eames says before he pushes inside.
His hips move in quick, controlled snaps that make Saito wonder if he gets any pleasure out of it at all. That's not what they're here for, of course. They're here only in the hopes of escaping with their lives intact, never mind their reputations. Eames jerks a rumbling groan out of him and Saito forgets to think of it at all. Eames hits his prostate more often than not, but every time he thrusts back in, it's like he's feeling the stretch for the first time.
"Don't break him, Eames," Fischer says, sounding bored. An affectation, almost certainly. "You're only the first. He'll get what he needs."
Yusuf is still watching them, though his unaffected air has given way to outright displeasure that seems, of all things, to be directed at him. Saito drops his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Eames fucks at a brutal pace while Yusuf's gaze sears the back of his neck, all of it making Saito feel caught between them. Perhaps he is after all. A moment later, Eames grunts and slips out just in time for Saito to feel the hot splatter of come across his back.
Saito relaxes onto his back after he dismounts, as much to wipe Eames' come off on the sheets as to give his arms a rest.
"Well done, Eames," Fischer says. His applause is measured, thunderous. "I couldn't have asked for a more excellent performance."
"Oh, give it a rest," Eames says. "You've had your fun."
"Speak to me like that again and it will be you up there. Next?"
It takes considerably less time before Cobb is settled between his legs. Saito goes to roll back over and is headed off by Fischer.
"No, you stay where you are. I want you to look at him, Saito. He's the reason you're here, isn't he? Look at him."
Saito forces his eyes onto Cobb, who doesn't look straight at him, but somewhere off to the side. His face is flushed, jaw held tight. His cock juts, already hard, from the fly of his pants. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and positions himself with Saito's knees spread on either side of him. Cobb shudders when he pushes inside, the line of his mouth tight against whatever cry threatens to escape.
Cobb moves slowly, his movements almost languid. All of him is so tremulous, from the line of his shoulders to the clutch of his hand on Saito's hip, it may be the only way he'll get through this. The strangest thing is that it feels familiar, an echo of a connection, as if this is what's left over from their time in limbo. Impulsive, Saito draws him in and kisses the hard line of his mouth.
Fischer's is not the only reaction this time. The laughter, he thinks, is Arthur. Everything else blends into a drone of gasps and murmuring that might be angry as easily as shocked. Saito doesn't dwell on it. Cobb relaxes immediately, the knots in his shoulders coming unraveling under Saito's hands, his jaw loosening for the press of Saito's tongue. His rocking slows even more and now Saito is more certain than ever that it's not fright or disgust slowing Cobb; he wants to savor it. The thought sends his cock swelling rapidly.
Saito gives a roll of his hips and Cobb breaks away with a moan, brow knit. In one smooth motion, their positions are reversed.
He licks his lips and croaks, "Arthur, come here."
Fischer seems to realize at the same time Saito does what's going on.
"Oh, now this is great," Fischer laughs. "You've really outdone yourselves, gentlemen."
There's no way for him to see Arthur, but Saito feels the mattress shift when he settles on the bed. Suddenly there are fingers pressing alongside Cobb's cock, stretching him even further. He cries out this time, unable to hold it back, arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up. Cobb strokes a hand down his back, almost tender.
"Relax," he says. "It'll be quicker this way. Arthur knows what he's doing."
"It's going to hurt," Arthur says. "You shouldn't lie to him."
Cobb pulls him in for another kiss and Saito feels Arthur hook his fingers back as if he's trying to stretch Saito over the head of his cock. He pulls all the way around the rim until he can easily slide two fingers around. His cock, blunt and too thick, is worse. Saito doesn't see how he can fit it in at all, but then Arthur has three fingers inside him and the head nudging up next to them.
When he's full, all Saito can do is groan and shake between them. Arthur's hands are huge on his hips, gently guiding him back as Cobb moves up. It's like nothing he's ever felt. The pain is duller than the pleasure, which is sharp and sporadic. His cock hasn't softened a bit, slicking Cobb's dress-shirt as they move together.
"Jesus Christ," Ariadne says, in the hush. All eyes are on him as he's broken apart, his mouth opening for gasping, body-racking cries as Arthur and Cobb fuck into him.
Arthur speaks against his ear. "Okay?"
"Yes."
His eyes slip shut, the room melting away. Here, there's nothing but the pulse of their cocks inside him, the slick sounds of his body and the pads of their fingers digging into his skin. Saito feels suspended, floating with nothing to ground him. This is so far from the exercise in humiliation that Fischer intended. The hot coil inside him is no longer shame, but arousal at being debased and made to take every thrust, as many cocks as they can shove inside him.
He comes at the thought, his cock crushed between their bellies. Cobb is quick to follow. He wiggles out from under them and Arthur presses him to his stomach, fucking so rapidly Saito barely feels the glide. His hole is loose and still stretched wide, weakly trying to grasp around Arthur while Cobb's come leaks down his thighs. The words pour out of him along with it.
"More," he moans, "more. Please, I need-"
"You heard him," Fischer says. "Someone give him what he wants."
Arthur pulls him vertical and hikes his knees up to his chest, displaying for everyone where they're joined, showing the wet smear of come on his belly. Saito leans back against him. There are worse things, he thinks again, though giving a man what he desires comes with its own complications. Neither Yusuf nor Ariadne moves. Saito watches Eames look between them and stand for the second time.
"Well, if you lot aren't interested, I suppose I'll just go again."
Fischer laughs, delighted. "Did you enjoy him that much, Eames?"
"I'd have taken my time if I'd known he'd be such a slag for it."
His kiss is harder than Cobb's, more teeth than tongue as he lines them up and shoves in with none of Arthur's care. They bend him double, his legs thrown over Eames' shoulders. He's boneless between them, both of them seated to the hilt inside him. They fuck him deep and slow one minute, shallow and quick the next. It's a wonder Arthur has lasted this long, but it won't be much longer. His hands are too rough, his movements too uncoordinated, to be anything but close.
Eames trails kisses over Saito's cheek, murmuring, "Fischer's happy. We might as well enjoy this, yeah?"
"Easy for you to say," Arthur says, quiet and serious even with the tremor in his voice. "You wouldn't say that if you were where he is."
"Oh, I don't know," Eames chuckles. "Depends on my mood, really. Anyway, Saito isn't complaining, are you, love?"
"Please," he says, not knowing what he's asking for. "Please."
Arthur makes a sound of disgust and suddenly he's gone. Saito doesn't think he's even come.
"I'm done. I won’t do this."
"Oh, come on, Arthur. You've already done it. Spoilsport," Eames mutters. "I guess it's just you and me, then." He rolls them back so Saito is straddling him. In a louder voice, he says, "Maybe you'd like a go, Yusuf. I'd hate to be the one having all the fun here. Awfully rude of me."
Saito aches everywhere below the waist, but there's still this persistent need that pricks at him, pulls him and makes him rock back on Eames' cock while he watches Yusuf walk over to them, gaze hot with something that looks remarkably like jealousy.
"I'm sorry," Eames says, when Yusuf is close enough that he can whisper. "You know I'm only trying-"
"Save it," Yusuf grits out. "This isn’t the time or the place. Fischer doesn't know. Keep it that way."
"And it wouldn't make a bit of difference if he did, but all right. Fine."
They must be together in some capacity, unless Saito is missing something. He could be. He's certainly not at his most aware at the moment, after being fucked so thoroughly with no end of it in sight. His body is still craving more touch, more sensation. Fischer has moved from his chair, kneeling in front of Ariadne where she's seated on the couch. He touches her face and she flinches, shaking her head.
Saito is dimly aware of the words hissed back and forth between Eames and Yusuf, Eames arm reaching around his side to pull Yusuf's cock stiff, but he’s more focused on Arthur, hunched over with his face buried in his hands and Cobb rubbing his back. Their situation could be similar. Or it could be the guilt. Arthur has been uneasy since the beginning. More so, perhaps, than the others.
The thought trails off with the push of Yusuf's cock. He's loose enough that they don't need to bother with fingers or extra lube anymore. There's more than enough come slicking him up, making every thrust squelch obscenely. Yusuf slips in easily, his hands light on Saito's waist.
"Let me know if I'm hurting you," he says.
Even if Yusuf were hurting him, Saito doubts he would be able to say anything about it. Speech, proper speech, is beyond him. His head lolls back on Yusuf's shoulder, his throat exposed to Eames' mouth as they seesaw him back and forth. There's little feeling to it anymore, his ass stretched beyond capacity and numb with what must be more than an hour of friction and fucking.
But his cock throbs to it anyway. Saito grasps weakly at it, trying vainly to jerk himself off. He can't seem to get a grip on it. Even if it weren't slick with come and precome leaking fresh from the head, he doesn't think he could make a fist around it.
"Help," he begs, hand moving uselessly. "I can't."
It's Yusuf's hand that snakes around his hip to pull him off, warm and soft-palmed. He's helpless to hold back orgasm, as much as he would like it to last. His cock feels sore and swollen even now that it's softening, raw from grinding against so many bellies. Eames comes inside him this time, staying until Yusuf finishes, soundless behind him.
They leave him curled on the bed, come pooling between his legs, spread out like the cheapest of whores and exhausted. It's over, he thinks. It's over, but he's wrong. It isn't over until Fischer calls an end to it and Saito opens his eyes to the sight of Ariadne perched over him in nothing but her bra and a black-belted harness. A sleek, rubber cock of the same color juts out from between her legs. It’s rather larger than anything like this that he’s seen before.
Her expression is hovering somewhere between resignation and anxiety. "Just warning you, I don't know how to use this thing."
Saito runs a hand over her bare hip. "It will all be fine."
And as long as Fischer walks away satisfied, it will be. Saito may have misjudged him in the beginning, but he knows that Fischer isn't the sort of man to toy with them and kill them after. There's nothing in it for him if they're dead and, besides, he has more of a sense of honor than that. Peculiar, in an American, but there nonetheless.
Ariadne is too short to peg him on his hands and knees, so Saito lays her back and sinks down on her strap-on. This, he can feel. Her cock is nearly as thick as his wrist at the base and it stretches him right back to where he was with a man on either side of him. Saito is careful not to rest too much of his weight on her, though all he wants to do is slump forward and sleep.
Ariadne is tense under him, her back drawn up in a taut arch.
"Is this hurting you?"
"No," she says. "You?"
"Not at all," he lies. He wants her to relax. "Don't worry. We're almost there."
After everything else, she hurts. The rubber is hard and unyielding with a wicked arch that doesn't fit right inside him every time he falls back down on it. He runs a hand over the harness, looking for some sort of dial or switch. His fingers find it before too long, at the base of the strap-on. Saito turns the little dial and Ariadne arches off the bed with a startled moan. Her cock slams into him too hard, vibrating cruelly inside his oversensitive ass.
"Too much, too much," Ariadne gasps, but it doesn't stop her from canting her hips toward him, fucking him as the vibrations stimulate her clit underneath all that rubber and leather. "Oh, fuck, Saito..."
He holds onto her waist, her skin soft and smooth under his hands, and keeps her steady inside him, letting her thrust up however she wants with only a slight adjustment. Saito hasn't heard a word out of Fischer since they started. It wouldn't surprise him if he were too busy bringing himself off. There must be some reason he's requested an orgy and not something more... usual as his revenge.
"Jesus," Ariadne moans, back arched and quivering.
She looks like she doesn't want to be as vocal as she is, but Saito knows exactly how it feels to have it all come out anyway. If she enjoys herself, he certainly won’t be the one to hold it against her. It's better than seeing her like Arthur, sobbing one minute and stony-faced the next, and knowing that this will linger on her conscience.
It's clear when Ariadne comes, by the way she falls back against the mattress and fumbles around for the dial to turn off the vibration. He twists it off for her and climbs off to help undo the harness digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Cobb comes over with her panties and her slacks, shielding her from Fischer's view as she pulls them back on.
Saito sees him now, legs spread wide in his chair, spent and panting. His cheeks are in high color and there's a grin on his face, wide and loose. Clothes are put back on and straightened. Saito wipes himself as clean as he can with a corner of the bed sheet before slipping back into his slacks. The wool sticks to him. They're unlikely to come clean, but a pair of ruined trousers is the least of his concerns.
"So," Eames says, the first to break the silence. "Is that it, then?"
"You're free to go," Fischer says, crisp and businesslike once more. "Thank you for your cooperation."
They file out in ones and twos, Saito leading. He can feel their eyes glancing off him, gazes that keep coming back and flicking away in shame or anger. He'd never thought they'd be together like this again, all of them. But this isn't like filing off the plane. There are no smiles traded, no quiet words for their victory.
Saito wonders what will become of them, Eames and Yusuf, Arthur and Cobb and Ariadne. He wonders what he's disrupted, what has been broken apart because of him and if they'll be able to put it back together.
They leave in separate cars, for cities all around the world, connected by an event better forgotten.
Word Count: 3,300
Pairing: Ariadne/Saito, Arthur/Cobb/Saito, Arthur/Eames/Saito, Cobb/Saito, Eames/Saito, Eames/Yusuf/Saito
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Post-Inception gangbang. Fischer watches the team fuck Saito.
Warnings: non/dub-con with a side of reluctant arousal, coercion, voyeurism, DP, pegging, barebacking, what-is-this-angst-in-my-porn
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be.
Author's Note: Written for an anon my slasherrific partner in crime, koushi, at forgerness' fest and also for the "gangbang" and "humiliation" squares on my Kink Bingo card.
"You have a minute to decide who's first. Any longer and I'll decide for you."
It's Fischer's first ultimatum, but Saito has a feeling it won't be the last. He shuts out the talk, Cobb and Arthur and the rest, and focuses on the simpler task of undressing. There are worse things, he supposes, than being the plaything of Robert Fischer. He could be dead, for one. Dead or rotting in a holding cell somewhere, awaiting a trial that will never come until he dies of starvation, exposure, a simple bullet to the head, or something else entirely.
There are as many ways to seek revenge as there are men to seek it.
Saito finishes folding his things, watch and ring deposited neatly on top of the pile, just as Eames starts in on his belt. They've decided, then. Eames glances at him and then over at Fischer, seated opposite the bed with a glass of brandy at his elbow and his legs neatly crossed.
"You wouldn't send a bloke out into the wild unarmed, would you, Bobby?" Eames says, belt wrapped around his fist. "Any chance of a condom?"
"Unnecessary. You have everything you need."
"Come on, now. We're your guests. Show a little hospitality."
Fischer sighs and turns his glass in his hands. "You're stalling and my time is very valuable. Don't upset me. You're in enough trouble as it is."
Eames turns back to him with a slight roll of his shoulders, as if to say, Well, I tried.
Saito offers him a small smile in return. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Eames says, gruffly, as he tugs his trousers down. "I did it for myself, didn't I?"
There's nothing he can say. With the current crowd of spectators, looking is the far safer activity. And it is infinitely more pleasant. Mr. Eames is not a man Saito would object to bedding under more regular circumstances, with the benefit of a proper seduction. Even soft, his cock hangs heavy and fat between thighs furred with light hair. Eames pulls himself to stiffness and motions for Saito to lie on his stomach.
He goes without complaint and rises up on his hands and knees, eyes to the wall.
"The other direction," Fischer says. "I want you to see everyone, Saito. Watching your humiliation."
There's a quiet sort of shame that comes with being on display, naked and spread apart, for people who are not his betters, but his shame is not their concern. That is an issue for him and Fischer to hash out between them. Fischer is a man who understands the sort of humiliation that comes to a man of his status.
Other than Fischer and Yusuf, whose look of clinical detachment is belied by his white-knuckled fists, no one is watching as Eames smears lube onto him, pushing it inside with two thick fingers, quickly scissored and pulled back before the lube even has a chance to warm. Ariadne stands apart, her hands in her pockets and her eyes on her sneakers. Arthur and Cobb look to be in quiet conference.
Saito feels Eames' weight come down against his back, fully-clothed. His thighs, his hands, his cock, are the only places Saito can feel skin. There's a reason for his briskness. Saito has no intention of looking at him, but he can hear the sharp click of Fischer's shoe as he taps his foot in impatience.
"Just bear down. I'll try to make this short," Eames says before he pushes inside.
His hips move in quick, controlled snaps that make Saito wonder if he gets any pleasure out of it at all. That's not what they're here for, of course. They're here only in the hopes of escaping with their lives intact, never mind their reputations. Eames jerks a rumbling groan out of him and Saito forgets to think of it at all. Eames hits his prostate more often than not, but every time he thrusts back in, it's like he's feeling the stretch for the first time.
"Don't break him, Eames," Fischer says, sounding bored. An affectation, almost certainly. "You're only the first. He'll get what he needs."
Yusuf is still watching them, though his unaffected air has given way to outright displeasure that seems, of all things, to be directed at him. Saito drops his head, biting the inside of his cheek. Eames fucks at a brutal pace while Yusuf's gaze sears the back of his neck, all of it making Saito feel caught between them. Perhaps he is after all. A moment later, Eames grunts and slips out just in time for Saito to feel the hot splatter of come across his back.
Saito relaxes onto his back after he dismounts, as much to wipe Eames' come off on the sheets as to give his arms a rest.
"Well done, Eames," Fischer says. His applause is measured, thunderous. "I couldn't have asked for a more excellent performance."
"Oh, give it a rest," Eames says. "You've had your fun."
"Speak to me like that again and it will be you up there. Next?"
It takes considerably less time before Cobb is settled between his legs. Saito goes to roll back over and is headed off by Fischer.
"No, you stay where you are. I want you to look at him, Saito. He's the reason you're here, isn't he? Look at him."
Saito forces his eyes onto Cobb, who doesn't look straight at him, but somewhere off to the side. His face is flushed, jaw held tight. His cock juts, already hard, from the fly of his pants. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and positions himself with Saito's knees spread on either side of him. Cobb shudders when he pushes inside, the line of his mouth tight against whatever cry threatens to escape.
Cobb moves slowly, his movements almost languid. All of him is so tremulous, from the line of his shoulders to the clutch of his hand on Saito's hip, it may be the only way he'll get through this. The strangest thing is that it feels familiar, an echo of a connection, as if this is what's left over from their time in limbo. Impulsive, Saito draws him in and kisses the hard line of his mouth.
Fischer's is not the only reaction this time. The laughter, he thinks, is Arthur. Everything else blends into a drone of gasps and murmuring that might be angry as easily as shocked. Saito doesn't dwell on it. Cobb relaxes immediately, the knots in his shoulders coming unraveling under Saito's hands, his jaw loosening for the press of Saito's tongue. His rocking slows even more and now Saito is more certain than ever that it's not fright or disgust slowing Cobb; he wants to savor it. The thought sends his cock swelling rapidly.
Saito gives a roll of his hips and Cobb breaks away with a moan, brow knit. In one smooth motion, their positions are reversed.
He licks his lips and croaks, "Arthur, come here."
Fischer seems to realize at the same time Saito does what's going on.
"Oh, now this is great," Fischer laughs. "You've really outdone yourselves, gentlemen."
There's no way for him to see Arthur, but Saito feels the mattress shift when he settles on the bed. Suddenly there are fingers pressing alongside Cobb's cock, stretching him even further. He cries out this time, unable to hold it back, arms shaking as he tries to hold himself up. Cobb strokes a hand down his back, almost tender.
"Relax," he says. "It'll be quicker this way. Arthur knows what he's doing."
"It's going to hurt," Arthur says. "You shouldn't lie to him."
Cobb pulls him in for another kiss and Saito feels Arthur hook his fingers back as if he's trying to stretch Saito over the head of his cock. He pulls all the way around the rim until he can easily slide two fingers around. His cock, blunt and too thick, is worse. Saito doesn't see how he can fit it in at all, but then Arthur has three fingers inside him and the head nudging up next to them.
When he's full, all Saito can do is groan and shake between them. Arthur's hands are huge on his hips, gently guiding him back as Cobb moves up. It's like nothing he's ever felt. The pain is duller than the pleasure, which is sharp and sporadic. His cock hasn't softened a bit, slicking Cobb's dress-shirt as they move together.
"Jesus Christ," Ariadne says, in the hush. All eyes are on him as he's broken apart, his mouth opening for gasping, body-racking cries as Arthur and Cobb fuck into him.
Arthur speaks against his ear. "Okay?"
"Yes."
His eyes slip shut, the room melting away. Here, there's nothing but the pulse of their cocks inside him, the slick sounds of his body and the pads of their fingers digging into his skin. Saito feels suspended, floating with nothing to ground him. This is so far from the exercise in humiliation that Fischer intended. The hot coil inside him is no longer shame, but arousal at being debased and made to take every thrust, as many cocks as they can shove inside him.
He comes at the thought, his cock crushed between their bellies. Cobb is quick to follow. He wiggles out from under them and Arthur presses him to his stomach, fucking so rapidly Saito barely feels the glide. His hole is loose and still stretched wide, weakly trying to grasp around Arthur while Cobb's come leaks down his thighs. The words pour out of him along with it.
"More," he moans, "more. Please, I need-"
"You heard him," Fischer says. "Someone give him what he wants."
Arthur pulls him vertical and hikes his knees up to his chest, displaying for everyone where they're joined, showing the wet smear of come on his belly. Saito leans back against him. There are worse things, he thinks again, though giving a man what he desires comes with its own complications. Neither Yusuf nor Ariadne moves. Saito watches Eames look between them and stand for the second time.
"Well, if you lot aren't interested, I suppose I'll just go again."
Fischer laughs, delighted. "Did you enjoy him that much, Eames?"
"I'd have taken my time if I'd known he'd be such a slag for it."
His kiss is harder than Cobb's, more teeth than tongue as he lines them up and shoves in with none of Arthur's care. They bend him double, his legs thrown over Eames' shoulders. He's boneless between them, both of them seated to the hilt inside him. They fuck him deep and slow one minute, shallow and quick the next. It's a wonder Arthur has lasted this long, but it won't be much longer. His hands are too rough, his movements too uncoordinated, to be anything but close.
Eames trails kisses over Saito's cheek, murmuring, "Fischer's happy. We might as well enjoy this, yeah?"
"Easy for you to say," Arthur says, quiet and serious even with the tremor in his voice. "You wouldn't say that if you were where he is."
"Oh, I don't know," Eames chuckles. "Depends on my mood, really. Anyway, Saito isn't complaining, are you, love?"
"Please," he says, not knowing what he's asking for. "Please."
Arthur makes a sound of disgust and suddenly he's gone. Saito doesn't think he's even come.
"I'm done. I won’t do this."
"Oh, come on, Arthur. You've already done it. Spoilsport," Eames mutters. "I guess it's just you and me, then." He rolls them back so Saito is straddling him. In a louder voice, he says, "Maybe you'd like a go, Yusuf. I'd hate to be the one having all the fun here. Awfully rude of me."
Saito aches everywhere below the waist, but there's still this persistent need that pricks at him, pulls him and makes him rock back on Eames' cock while he watches Yusuf walk over to them, gaze hot with something that looks remarkably like jealousy.
"I'm sorry," Eames says, when Yusuf is close enough that he can whisper. "You know I'm only trying-"
"Save it," Yusuf grits out. "This isn’t the time or the place. Fischer doesn't know. Keep it that way."
"And it wouldn't make a bit of difference if he did, but all right. Fine."
They must be together in some capacity, unless Saito is missing something. He could be. He's certainly not at his most aware at the moment, after being fucked so thoroughly with no end of it in sight. His body is still craving more touch, more sensation. Fischer has moved from his chair, kneeling in front of Ariadne where she's seated on the couch. He touches her face and she flinches, shaking her head.
Saito is dimly aware of the words hissed back and forth between Eames and Yusuf, Eames arm reaching around his side to pull Yusuf's cock stiff, but he’s more focused on Arthur, hunched over with his face buried in his hands and Cobb rubbing his back. Their situation could be similar. Or it could be the guilt. Arthur has been uneasy since the beginning. More so, perhaps, than the others.
The thought trails off with the push of Yusuf's cock. He's loose enough that they don't need to bother with fingers or extra lube anymore. There's more than enough come slicking him up, making every thrust squelch obscenely. Yusuf slips in easily, his hands light on Saito's waist.
"Let me know if I'm hurting you," he says.
Even if Yusuf were hurting him, Saito doubts he would be able to say anything about it. Speech, proper speech, is beyond him. His head lolls back on Yusuf's shoulder, his throat exposed to Eames' mouth as they seesaw him back and forth. There's little feeling to it anymore, his ass stretched beyond capacity and numb with what must be more than an hour of friction and fucking.
But his cock throbs to it anyway. Saito grasps weakly at it, trying vainly to jerk himself off. He can't seem to get a grip on it. Even if it weren't slick with come and precome leaking fresh from the head, he doesn't think he could make a fist around it.
"Help," he begs, hand moving uselessly. "I can't."
It's Yusuf's hand that snakes around his hip to pull him off, warm and soft-palmed. He's helpless to hold back orgasm, as much as he would like it to last. His cock feels sore and swollen even now that it's softening, raw from grinding against so many bellies. Eames comes inside him this time, staying until Yusuf finishes, soundless behind him.
They leave him curled on the bed, come pooling between his legs, spread out like the cheapest of whores and exhausted. It's over, he thinks. It's over, but he's wrong. It isn't over until Fischer calls an end to it and Saito opens his eyes to the sight of Ariadne perched over him in nothing but her bra and a black-belted harness. A sleek, rubber cock of the same color juts out from between her legs. It’s rather larger than anything like this that he’s seen before.
Her expression is hovering somewhere between resignation and anxiety. "Just warning you, I don't know how to use this thing."
Saito runs a hand over her bare hip. "It will all be fine."
And as long as Fischer walks away satisfied, it will be. Saito may have misjudged him in the beginning, but he knows that Fischer isn't the sort of man to toy with them and kill them after. There's nothing in it for him if they're dead and, besides, he has more of a sense of honor than that. Peculiar, in an American, but there nonetheless.
Ariadne is too short to peg him on his hands and knees, so Saito lays her back and sinks down on her strap-on. This, he can feel. Her cock is nearly as thick as his wrist at the base and it stretches him right back to where he was with a man on either side of him. Saito is careful not to rest too much of his weight on her, though all he wants to do is slump forward and sleep.
Ariadne is tense under him, her back drawn up in a taut arch.
"Is this hurting you?"
"No," she says. "You?"
"Not at all," he lies. He wants her to relax. "Don't worry. We're almost there."
After everything else, she hurts. The rubber is hard and unyielding with a wicked arch that doesn't fit right inside him every time he falls back down on it. He runs a hand over the harness, looking for some sort of dial or switch. His fingers find it before too long, at the base of the strap-on. Saito turns the little dial and Ariadne arches off the bed with a startled moan. Her cock slams into him too hard, vibrating cruelly inside his oversensitive ass.
"Too much, too much," Ariadne gasps, but it doesn't stop her from canting her hips toward him, fucking him as the vibrations stimulate her clit underneath all that rubber and leather. "Oh, fuck, Saito..."
He holds onto her waist, her skin soft and smooth under his hands, and keeps her steady inside him, letting her thrust up however she wants with only a slight adjustment. Saito hasn't heard a word out of Fischer since they started. It wouldn't surprise him if he were too busy bringing himself off. There must be some reason he's requested an orgy and not something more... usual as his revenge.
"Jesus," Ariadne moans, back arched and quivering.
She looks like she doesn't want to be as vocal as she is, but Saito knows exactly how it feels to have it all come out anyway. If she enjoys herself, he certainly won’t be the one to hold it against her. It's better than seeing her like Arthur, sobbing one minute and stony-faced the next, and knowing that this will linger on her conscience.
It's clear when Ariadne comes, by the way she falls back against the mattress and fumbles around for the dial to turn off the vibration. He twists it off for her and climbs off to help undo the harness digging into the soft flesh of her hips. Cobb comes over with her panties and her slacks, shielding her from Fischer's view as she pulls them back on.
Saito sees him now, legs spread wide in his chair, spent and panting. His cheeks are in high color and there's a grin on his face, wide and loose. Clothes are put back on and straightened. Saito wipes himself as clean as he can with a corner of the bed sheet before slipping back into his slacks. The wool sticks to him. They're unlikely to come clean, but a pair of ruined trousers is the least of his concerns.
"So," Eames says, the first to break the silence. "Is that it, then?"
"You're free to go," Fischer says, crisp and businesslike once more. "Thank you for your cooperation."
They file out in ones and twos, Saito leading. He can feel their eyes glancing off him, gazes that keep coming back and flicking away in shame or anger. He'd never thought they'd be together like this again, all of them. But this isn't like filing off the plane. There are no smiles traded, no quiet words for their victory.
Saito wonders what will become of them, Eames and Yusuf, Arthur and Cobb and Ariadne. He wonders what he's disrupted, what has been broken apart because of him and if they'll be able to put it back together.
They leave in separate cars, for cities all around the world, connected by an event better forgotten.