Bloodlust [Part 6]
Fandom: Inception (2010)
Title: Bloodlust [6/?]
Author: quillor
Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne, slight Dom/Mal
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Profanity, slight sexual themes
Disclaimer: Mr. Nolan owns everything. This story is also heavily inspired by Daybreakers and based on UglyTruth's Untold Attraction.
Summary:
AU. Humans weren't the kings of the world. Secretly, lurking in the shadows, were the vampires - fine, organized beings who harvested the human's blood. They felt no love, no compassion. Just pure, feral bloodlust.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Arthur reacted as if she had just slapped him across the face.
He withdrew sharply, pulling away to gain some sort of distance from her. His grip on her wrists loosened, and she seized the opportunity to push herself up and catch his lips once again - grabbing handfuls of his jacket and shirt to keep their lips pressed together.
Arthur found his logic and common sense attacked by her sudden gesture. Confused, shocked - torn between natural desires and duty - his hands half-heartedly tugged at her to let go, but clearly she wasn't one to give up. Arthur suddenly found himself under her control, lost under the heat of her lips and the ravaging tips of her fingers nimbly darting down to his waist…
And then there was a piercing pain on the side of his abdomen.
Arthur broke away that moment, but he had no time to observe the damage done - a dull pain exploded by the side of his head, and everything went black.
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Ariadne stood in the bathroom, gasping and breathing heavily as she threw aside the shower head and tried to throw her mind off the guilt of what she had done. She had actually done it - she was free.
But even then, her hand trembled at the sight of the blood spreading out of his side wound. The knife protruding out of it numbly reminded her of her sin - how she had kissed him senseless and stole his weapon to inflict him the wound. She couldn't press the weapon in deep enough, but it provided her the opportunity to grab the shower head lying idly by their side and bash his head in.
Shakily she grabbed the keys and gun hanging by his belt and fled. Ariadne didn't know where to go, or how. She was barefooted, and if she knew her brother well enough, then he must have had the whole building aware of his dangerous prisoner of a sister - but Ariadne didn't particularly care. Even if she had to end up being caught and stashed back into that room, her breakout would at least reach her brother and give him a good punch in his pride.
A housekeeper passed by her, staring hesitantly. She ran past the lady without batting an eyelash and made her way to the elevator - it was easy enough, the whole floor was designed like a hotel, complete with direction boards plastered over the hallways. She slammed on the button that indicated 'G', her adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of the outdoors. It never occurred to her that dawn might be approaching, or the fact that America might just be in the midst of a hot afternoon with more than sufficient heat to burn her alive. No - Ariadne had lost track of the time, and she had most definitely never thought of herself as a vampire.
But the elevator clearly reminded her that she wasn't a welcomed member of the company.
"Please insert key card," the digitalized voice of a woman said calmly, clearly nonchalant of her desperation.
"Come on," she hissed, jamming her finger on the 'open' button and quickly propelling herself away to the nearest corridor. The hallway was deserted, and she took the time to place one hand upon her profoundly beating against her rib cage. She was growing more frantic, and she needed to calm herself down to think of a better solution out of this maze of rooms.
Think, Ariadne, she grimly thought, suddenly brought back to the ways her teachers usually shook their heads at her and repeated those two words irritatedly. Think.
That was when her eye caught sight of the hydrant securely positioned by the wall.
That's right - the emergency exit.
Quickly she ran through to the end of the hallway, practically ripping the iconic grey door open and flinging herself up the stairs. She didn't know just how many stories she was from the ground floor, but her hearing could tell better. She caught soft noises of people chattering, bustling, heavy footsteps - and they were just up ahead, perhaps a sheer two flights of stairs away.
Ariadne ran up, up, up. She amazed herself how amazingly prolonged her stamina had been transformed to last - perchance she did have the ability to appreciate the vampiric privileges of superhuman strength. Jumping joyfully up one more step, she pressed her ear against the exit door, trying to hear if the bustling was audible enough to indicate the ground floor -
"If you were looking for some good music, darling, then MTV will be a much better choice. Preferably on a high-grade TV as well."
Ariadne screamed and jumped back, pressing herself against the wall. The owner of the surly voice laughed humorously at her, his silver eyes glinting with glee.
"There's no need to get so jumpy, love," he said, smiling. "Let me guess. Old Artie got too cruel with you?"
She blinked. "How did you-"
"Ah, love, The Fantastic Mr. Eames knows everything," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Quickly his hand darted to his pockets (his bulging pockets, Ariadne noticed) and took out - well, a fresh red apple.
"Want some?" he asked, offering it to her.
Ariadne could merely stare. Apples had once been her favorite choice of fruit, but now the sheer sight and scent of them were the least appealing. She found herself reminded of her current prime food and realized now that her stomach was demanding for more after all that exercise she had forced upon her body. The thought disgusted her, and she looked away.
Eames didn't seem to be following her line of thought and merely juggled the apple with one hand.
"No, darling?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. When Ariadne did not respond he merely shrugged and bit his own fangs into the juicy flesh of the fruit, munching it as if he had been human. Ariadne stared incredulously at him.
"You're a vampire," she murmured, slightly feeling a queer sense of repulse at the sight. It was like seeing someone eat inedible pieces of wood or nails.
Eames smirked. "I know, darling. I'm just trying to get in the flow of Twilight fever." He dropped the apple down one leg and kicked it up into the air, only to catch it back.
Impressive as it was, Ariadne was beginning to think that this vampire was slightly a lunatic. Why the hell wasn't he restraining her for being an escapee? Why the hell was he joking around with her? And why - why the hell wouldn't he budge over that door if he didn't have any intention of catching her?
She was suddenly reminded of the weapon in her hand and she quickly pointed it at him threateningly, trying to ignore the slight quivering of her hands.
"Move over," she hissed, gesturing towards the door. "Move over or I'll shoot."
Eames dramatically dropped the apple and held his hands up in submission, his mouth in a large 'O'.
"Stolen Artie's precious Glock, did you?" he inquired, his voice almost a slow purring. "Smart, Ariadne. Very smart."
"Shut up," she snapped, drawing closer to the bulky vampire. "I'm serious. I'll shoot."
Eames merely chuckled softly. "And to what good, darling? I'm an undead. You should know better."
"Doesn't mean it won't hurt," she shot back, feeling her courage well back to her chest. "Pain is in the mind, Mr. Eames." She took the time to mock-enunciate his name. It felt good to have a vampire in submission to her.
Surprisingly, the older vampire reacted somewhat to that quote. He gave her a knowing look and took a step backwards.
"Sure, love," he sighed, pressing himself against the opposite wall as she approached the door, her gun still pointed at him. When he had clearly showed no signs of retaliation, she quickly turned the door knob and flung the metal frame open, ready to engulf in her freedom…
Instead, she found the hurling butt of a knife attacking her field of vision, a dull pain to the temple - and then an explosion of colors and lights as she dropped backwards to a pair of strong arms.
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"Lenient on the job, love?" Eames laughed as Arthur stashed the Glock securely by his side and threw the unconscious body of Ariadne over his shoulder. Judging by the creasing of his forehead and the way Arthur was clenching his fists, Eames could tell that he was just a fraction below his boiling point.
"Shut up, Eames," he growled, wincing slightly as his fingers curled around the wound by his abdomen. Eames whistled accordingly.
"That's some pretty nice scratch, Artie."
"I told you to shut it, Eames-"
"What did she do, darling? Please, satisfy Mr. Eames…"
The Brit was now mock-batting his eyelashes at Arthur, clasping his hands together as if he was a prissy lady from a cartoon. Arthur growled at the level of immaturity and merely clasped Ariadne as he descended down the stairs.
"You could've just grabbed her, you know," Eames called out from up ahead. "She didn't even pull the safety off."
"Go back to your midnight snacking, Mr. Eames," Arthur grimly answered, hauling the vampire girl down to her room.
He had no idea how to describe the mixture of feelings that attacked him right now. Disgust? Wrath? Incompetence? Arthur never failed a job. Never. And to let himself get distracted on a simple duty of guarding an inexperienced, baby vampire girl? The sheer thought of his failure filled his chest with shame and the disgusting feeling of ineptness again.
Pushing through the door with one side of his body, he dropped Ariadne roughly to her bed, quickly clicking her wrists and ankles together with the metal cuffs he had learnt to befriend while stationed as her guard. She was stirring now, the temple of her head slightly red from the impact he had brought with the butt of his knife. With the butt of the knife she had used to stab him. Arthur gritted his teeth at the thought and had to summon all composure and control to stop himself from punishing her with violence. There was no regret nor sympathy as he witnessed the slow bruising of her temple.
"Where…?" she mumbled incoherently, her eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to clarify her vision.
Arthur stood by, folding his arms and staring back at her coldly as Ariadne finally managed to capture him in her field of vision. To his delight, she looked petrified at the sight of him - and, well, terrified. She masked it all with a look of defiance, though, or at least an attempt at it.
"…What?" she mumbled, looking away.
"Look at me," he growled, and she winced. A second time, and her eyes were forced to meet his.
"Do you think you can escape me, Miss Cobb?" he snarled, kneeling down to level with her gaze. She flinched at their sudden proximity and tried to edge away but he grabbed her by the arm and kept her still, his nails digging down to her soft flesh. He could hear her inhale a sharp breath and held it, whether in fear or anticipation he could not decide. Still, the gesture satisfied him.
"Well?" he pressed on, raising one eyebrow. "Do answer."
Her tongue darted out to momentarily brush against her lower lip before she swallowed. Arthur found himself slightly enticed by the pink flush of her lips before bringing himself back to her face, reminding himself that it was her intrusive kiss that had led him to his downfall.
Ariadne opened her mouth slightly, only to clamp it back together again as if trying to voice out a simple reply and finding her vocal chords failing at the attempt.
"Ye-no," she finally croaked out in a hurry, mashing the words together in her indecision between the desire to defy him and the pressure to submit to him. Arthur noticed the slight quivering of her arm under his grip.
As hard as it was, he finally took a deep breath, and retrieved his arms, shoving them down his pockets. He reminded himself that torturing the prisoner mentally wasn't a part of his job, even when he desperately needed to restore her respect of him as a guard dog. No. As much as Arthur wanted this little girl to know her place, he did not want another Mal…
It wouldn't be fair for Cobb.
So he decided to scrutinize her one last time and sent her his final message. "Try something like that again, and I'll make sure Cobb doesn't allow you out for a lifetime. And stop trying - no vampire in their right mind is going to help you."
And with that, he turned his back on her and made his way to the bathroom. He expected her to sigh with relief now, and probably go to bed like a good, little girl. Maybe even cry to her pillow.
"That's it?"
That was certainly not one of the choices he had laid out mentally for her. Arthur stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes impatiently. Her impudence was just… astounding.
Breathe, he told himself before turning himself back to her.
"Yes?" he snapped, scrunching his eyebrows at her, who was staring back at him in disbelief.
"That's it?" she said again, waving her cuffed hands at him. "Just a warning? No beating? No-"
"In case you forgot, I did whack you over the head," he assisted her sarcastically. "Now, if you will please leave me to gauze up my wound that you inflicted-"
"But-" she mumbled, rolling her eyes in her amazement. "Really. Just a threat. After I practically destroyed your dignity-"
"I highly doubt that a prostitute has any right to discuss the aspects of dignity," he fired back.
That shut her up. She pressed her lips together until they disappeared into a single cleave on her flesh, her eyes burning furiously at him. He knew he had hit the right target.
"Well," she suddenly exclaimed back, fuming. "I highly doubt a man who enjoyed kissing said prostitute has any more rights to discuss about dignity."
And she hit him right back.
For a moment they glared at each other furiously as flashes of their previous random session in the bathroom involuntarily rushed back to their minds. Unconsciously Arthur noticed how he was previously enticed by the soft flesh of her lips while he was berating her, and the memory made him all the more furious.
Turning on his heel, he stepped into the accursed bathroom and slammed the door, vowing to have the housekeeping team clean the place up until it was pristine with the smell of soap and polished tiles. As he unbuttoned and slid his shirt away to measure the damage of his wound, he could not help but bring himself to think back to how Ariadne had also rested her eyes on his lips at the mention of their kiss.
For a moment, he seriously thought that both of them deserved the beating on their heads.
Title: Bloodlust [6/?]
Author: quillor
Pairing: Arthur/Ariadne, slight Dom/Mal
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Profanity, slight sexual themes
Disclaimer: Mr. Nolan owns everything. This story is also heavily inspired by Daybreakers and based on UglyTruth's Untold Attraction.
Summary:
AU. Humans weren't the kings of the world. Secretly, lurking in the shadows, were the vampires - fine, organized beings who harvested the human's blood. They felt no love, no compassion. Just pure, feral bloodlust.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Arthur reacted as if she had just slapped him across the face.
He withdrew sharply, pulling away to gain some sort of distance from her. His grip on her wrists loosened, and she seized the opportunity to push herself up and catch his lips once again - grabbing handfuls of his jacket and shirt to keep their lips pressed together.
Arthur found his logic and common sense attacked by her sudden gesture. Confused, shocked - torn between natural desires and duty - his hands half-heartedly tugged at her to let go, but clearly she wasn't one to give up. Arthur suddenly found himself under her control, lost under the heat of her lips and the ravaging tips of her fingers nimbly darting down to his waist…
And then there was a piercing pain on the side of his abdomen.
Arthur broke away that moment, but he had no time to observe the damage done - a dull pain exploded by the side of his head, and everything went black.
88888888888
Ariadne stood in the bathroom, gasping and breathing heavily as she threw aside the shower head and tried to throw her mind off the guilt of what she had done. She had actually done it - she was free.
But even then, her hand trembled at the sight of the blood spreading out of his side wound. The knife protruding out of it numbly reminded her of her sin - how she had kissed him senseless and stole his weapon to inflict him the wound. She couldn't press the weapon in deep enough, but it provided her the opportunity to grab the shower head lying idly by their side and bash his head in.
Shakily she grabbed the keys and gun hanging by his belt and fled. Ariadne didn't know where to go, or how. She was barefooted, and if she knew her brother well enough, then he must have had the whole building aware of his dangerous prisoner of a sister - but Ariadne didn't particularly care. Even if she had to end up being caught and stashed back into that room, her breakout would at least reach her brother and give him a good punch in his pride.
A housekeeper passed by her, staring hesitantly. She ran past the lady without batting an eyelash and made her way to the elevator - it was easy enough, the whole floor was designed like a hotel, complete with direction boards plastered over the hallways. She slammed on the button that indicated 'G', her adrenaline rushing at the sheer thought of the outdoors. It never occurred to her that dawn might be approaching, or the fact that America might just be in the midst of a hot afternoon with more than sufficient heat to burn her alive. No - Ariadne had lost track of the time, and she had most definitely never thought of herself as a vampire.
But the elevator clearly reminded her that she wasn't a welcomed member of the company.
"Please insert key card," the digitalized voice of a woman said calmly, clearly nonchalant of her desperation.
"Come on," she hissed, jamming her finger on the 'open' button and quickly propelling herself away to the nearest corridor. The hallway was deserted, and she took the time to place one hand upon her profoundly beating against her rib cage. She was growing more frantic, and she needed to calm herself down to think of a better solution out of this maze of rooms.
Think, Ariadne, she grimly thought, suddenly brought back to the ways her teachers usually shook their heads at her and repeated those two words irritatedly. Think.
That was when her eye caught sight of the hydrant securely positioned by the wall.
That's right - the emergency exit.
Quickly she ran through to the end of the hallway, practically ripping the iconic grey door open and flinging herself up the stairs. She didn't know just how many stories she was from the ground floor, but her hearing could tell better. She caught soft noises of people chattering, bustling, heavy footsteps - and they were just up ahead, perhaps a sheer two flights of stairs away.
Ariadne ran up, up, up. She amazed herself how amazingly prolonged her stamina had been transformed to last - perchance she did have the ability to appreciate the vampiric privileges of superhuman strength. Jumping joyfully up one more step, she pressed her ear against the exit door, trying to hear if the bustling was audible enough to indicate the ground floor -
"If you were looking for some good music, darling, then MTV will be a much better choice. Preferably on a high-grade TV as well."
Ariadne screamed and jumped back, pressing herself against the wall. The owner of the surly voice laughed humorously at her, his silver eyes glinting with glee.
"There's no need to get so jumpy, love," he said, smiling. "Let me guess. Old Artie got too cruel with you?"
She blinked. "How did you-"
"Ah, love, The Fantastic Mr. Eames knows everything," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Quickly his hand darted to his pockets (his bulging pockets, Ariadne noticed) and took out - well, a fresh red apple.
"Want some?" he asked, offering it to her.
Ariadne could merely stare. Apples had once been her favorite choice of fruit, but now the sheer sight and scent of them were the least appealing. She found herself reminded of her current prime food and realized now that her stomach was demanding for more after all that exercise she had forced upon her body. The thought disgusted her, and she looked away.
Eames didn't seem to be following her line of thought and merely juggled the apple with one hand.
"No, darling?" he asked, raising one eyebrow. When Ariadne did not respond he merely shrugged and bit his own fangs into the juicy flesh of the fruit, munching it as if he had been human. Ariadne stared incredulously at him.
"You're a vampire," she murmured, slightly feeling a queer sense of repulse at the sight. It was like seeing someone eat inedible pieces of wood or nails.
Eames smirked. "I know, darling. I'm just trying to get in the flow of Twilight fever." He dropped the apple down one leg and kicked it up into the air, only to catch it back.
Impressive as it was, Ariadne was beginning to think that this vampire was slightly a lunatic. Why the hell wasn't he restraining her for being an escapee? Why the hell was he joking around with her? And why - why the hell wouldn't he budge over that door if he didn't have any intention of catching her?
She was suddenly reminded of the weapon in her hand and she quickly pointed it at him threateningly, trying to ignore the slight quivering of her hands.
"Move over," she hissed, gesturing towards the door. "Move over or I'll shoot."
Eames dramatically dropped the apple and held his hands up in submission, his mouth in a large 'O'.
"Stolen Artie's precious Glock, did you?" he inquired, his voice almost a slow purring. "Smart, Ariadne. Very smart."
"Shut up," she snapped, drawing closer to the bulky vampire. "I'm serious. I'll shoot."
Eames merely chuckled softly. "And to what good, darling? I'm an undead. You should know better."
"Doesn't mean it won't hurt," she shot back, feeling her courage well back to her chest. "Pain is in the mind, Mr. Eames." She took the time to mock-enunciate his name. It felt good to have a vampire in submission to her.
Surprisingly, the older vampire reacted somewhat to that quote. He gave her a knowing look and took a step backwards.
"Sure, love," he sighed, pressing himself against the opposite wall as she approached the door, her gun still pointed at him. When he had clearly showed no signs of retaliation, she quickly turned the door knob and flung the metal frame open, ready to engulf in her freedom…
Instead, she found the hurling butt of a knife attacking her field of vision, a dull pain to the temple - and then an explosion of colors and lights as she dropped backwards to a pair of strong arms.
888888888888888888
"Lenient on the job, love?" Eames laughed as Arthur stashed the Glock securely by his side and threw the unconscious body of Ariadne over his shoulder. Judging by the creasing of his forehead and the way Arthur was clenching his fists, Eames could tell that he was just a fraction below his boiling point.
"Shut up, Eames," he growled, wincing slightly as his fingers curled around the wound by his abdomen. Eames whistled accordingly.
"That's some pretty nice scratch, Artie."
"I told you to shut it, Eames-"
"What did she do, darling? Please, satisfy Mr. Eames…"
The Brit was now mock-batting his eyelashes at Arthur, clasping his hands together as if he was a prissy lady from a cartoon. Arthur growled at the level of immaturity and merely clasped Ariadne as he descended down the stairs.
"You could've just grabbed her, you know," Eames called out from up ahead. "She didn't even pull the safety off."
"Go back to your midnight snacking, Mr. Eames," Arthur grimly answered, hauling the vampire girl down to her room.
He had no idea how to describe the mixture of feelings that attacked him right now. Disgust? Wrath? Incompetence? Arthur never failed a job. Never. And to let himself get distracted on a simple duty of guarding an inexperienced, baby vampire girl? The sheer thought of his failure filled his chest with shame and the disgusting feeling of ineptness again.
Pushing through the door with one side of his body, he dropped Ariadne roughly to her bed, quickly clicking her wrists and ankles together with the metal cuffs he had learnt to befriend while stationed as her guard. She was stirring now, the temple of her head slightly red from the impact he had brought with the butt of his knife. With the butt of the knife she had used to stab him. Arthur gritted his teeth at the thought and had to summon all composure and control to stop himself from punishing her with violence. There was no regret nor sympathy as he witnessed the slow bruising of her temple.
"Where…?" she mumbled incoherently, her eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to clarify her vision.
Arthur stood by, folding his arms and staring back at her coldly as Ariadne finally managed to capture him in her field of vision. To his delight, she looked petrified at the sight of him - and, well, terrified. She masked it all with a look of defiance, though, or at least an attempt at it.
"…What?" she mumbled, looking away.
"Look at me," he growled, and she winced. A second time, and her eyes were forced to meet his.
"Do you think you can escape me, Miss Cobb?" he snarled, kneeling down to level with her gaze. She flinched at their sudden proximity and tried to edge away but he grabbed her by the arm and kept her still, his nails digging down to her soft flesh. He could hear her inhale a sharp breath and held it, whether in fear or anticipation he could not decide. Still, the gesture satisfied him.
"Well?" he pressed on, raising one eyebrow. "Do answer."
Her tongue darted out to momentarily brush against her lower lip before she swallowed. Arthur found himself slightly enticed by the pink flush of her lips before bringing himself back to her face, reminding himself that it was her intrusive kiss that had led him to his downfall.
Ariadne opened her mouth slightly, only to clamp it back together again as if trying to voice out a simple reply and finding her vocal chords failing at the attempt.
"Ye-no," she finally croaked out in a hurry, mashing the words together in her indecision between the desire to defy him and the pressure to submit to him. Arthur noticed the slight quivering of her arm under his grip.
As hard as it was, he finally took a deep breath, and retrieved his arms, shoving them down his pockets. He reminded himself that torturing the prisoner mentally wasn't a part of his job, even when he desperately needed to restore her respect of him as a guard dog. No. As much as Arthur wanted this little girl to know her place, he did not want another Mal…
It wouldn't be fair for Cobb.
So he decided to scrutinize her one last time and sent her his final message. "Try something like that again, and I'll make sure Cobb doesn't allow you out for a lifetime. And stop trying - no vampire in their right mind is going to help you."
And with that, he turned his back on her and made his way to the bathroom. He expected her to sigh with relief now, and probably go to bed like a good, little girl. Maybe even cry to her pillow.
"That's it?"
That was certainly not one of the choices he had laid out mentally for her. Arthur stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes impatiently. Her impudence was just… astounding.
Breathe, he told himself before turning himself back to her.
"Yes?" he snapped, scrunching his eyebrows at her, who was staring back at him in disbelief.
"That's it?" she said again, waving her cuffed hands at him. "Just a warning? No beating? No-"
"In case you forgot, I did whack you over the head," he assisted her sarcastically. "Now, if you will please leave me to gauze up my wound that you inflicted-"
"But-" she mumbled, rolling her eyes in her amazement. "Really. Just a threat. After I practically destroyed your dignity-"
"I highly doubt that a prostitute has any right to discuss the aspects of dignity," he fired back.
That shut her up. She pressed her lips together until they disappeared into a single cleave on her flesh, her eyes burning furiously at him. He knew he had hit the right target.
"Well," she suddenly exclaimed back, fuming. "I highly doubt a man who enjoyed kissing said prostitute has any more rights to discuss about dignity."
And she hit him right back.
For a moment they glared at each other furiously as flashes of their previous random session in the bathroom involuntarily rushed back to their minds. Unconsciously Arthur noticed how he was previously enticed by the soft flesh of her lips while he was berating her, and the memory made him all the more furious.
Turning on his heel, he stepped into the accursed bathroom and slammed the door, vowing to have the housekeeping team clean the place up until it was pristine with the smell of soap and polished tiles. As he unbuttoned and slid his shirt away to measure the damage of his wound, he could not help but bring himself to think back to how Ariadne had also rested her eyes on his lips at the mention of their kiss.
For a moment, he seriously thought that both of them deserved the beating on their heads.