Apparently my writer's block just needed a new fandom infusion
Title: tonight I'm a hurricane
Summary: "He wants you," Eames whispered into her ear, "and I want him. What do you say we split the difference?"
Fandom: Inception
Word Count: 2819
Rating/Contents: NC-17, double penetration
Pairing: Eames/Ariadne/Arthur
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: JFC this took a long time. But whatever. It is done now. Take it from my sight.
They’d been abandoned, more or less- Saito and Fischer had been collected by their drivers, Cobb was with Miles, Yusuf was running madly through the airport to his connector- so it was just her and Arthur and Eames, making their way towards ground transportation.
Ariadne sped up a little, wanting to be free of the crowds; she still felt the lingering suspicion that, at any moment, they were going to spot her and turn on her. She should have been exhausted, after so much time here, there, and everywhere, but instead she felt exhilarated, excitement tingling under her skin.
“Where will you go?” Arthur asked.
“I have to get back to Paris,” she told him. “But I might spend a few days here first.”
“Visiting friends?”
“My aunt. Where are you going?"
Before Arthur could respond, Eames broke in. “I hate to interrupt this absolutely fascinating conversation, but I think that all three of us," he took each of them by the arm, pulling them around the corner, out of the way of the crowd, "should go right over here."
"What are you doing?" Ariadne asked, as he took her suitcase and set it against the wall.
"Just this," he replied, slipping in behind her and sliding his hands around her waist. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing his way up towards her ear.
"And what is this?" she demanded, even while she was tilting her head to give him better access.
Eames chuckled. "Just a little tradition, love."
She shut her eyes, trying to broadcast an outrage that she didn't feel. "Can you please not feel me up in the middle of LAX?"
"Can I feel you up somewhere else?"
Arthur stepped forward. "It's okay, Ariadne," he said softly. "You don't have to get into this if you don't want to."
She swallowed. "Wh- what would I be getting into?" she asked, though she very much hoped that she already knew the answer.
"He wants you," Eames whispered into her ear, "and I want him. What do you say we split the difference?"
Ariadne pulled away, looking him in the face. "You don't want me?" she challenged.
He grinned, predatory, his gaze moving up and down her body. "Oh, I never said that."
She rolled her eyes, unable to keep from smiling. "Let's just go before we get thrown out of the airport."
"Right," Eames said, nipping her earlobe before releasing her. "Shall we?"
As they left, Arthur slipped his hand into hers.
--
Ariadne had no real idea where they were going; she had been a little distracted by Eames and the way his hands kept appearing in strategic locations. Presently, they had worked their way down into her pants; she clapped a hand over her mouth as his fingers pushed inside of her, the side of his thumb rubbing against her clit. He fucked her slow and hard, kissing and biting her neck, leaning up to whisper obscene things in her ear.
Arthur pulled her hand away from her face, shaking his head at her. His fingers curled around her jaw; his thumb tracked over her lips, pressing gently between them. He was looking at her like he was going to eat her alive, just as soon as he figured out where to start.
Eames did something with his fingertips, and she came, just like that, trapped between Eames's hands and Arthur's eyes.
She was still panting and flushed when the cab came to a stop in front of some hotel. Arthur helped her out of the car, and she stood blinking in the impossibly bright California sun.
"I cannot believe I just did that," she muttered.
"Tell me, sweetheart," Eames said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Exactly what part of your life is particularly believable right now?" He grinned at her reaction. "You hate it when I'm right, don't you? You should ask Arthur about that. He's the expert."
Eames walked her inside, leaving Arthur to deal with the driver and the luggage. There was a line for check-in; Eames spent most of it trying to unhook her bra as subtly as possible. Arthur rejoined them just as they reached the clerk.
"I have a reservation," Eames told her, sliding his ID across the counter.
She looked up at the three of them. "I'm sorry, Mister Trevelyan, but we only have rooms with one king bed available tonight."
He smiled. "That's perfect, thank you."
To her credit, she didn't bat an eyelash, just turned over their keys and wished them a good night.
Arthur gave Eames a look. "Trevelyan? Really?"
He shrugged. "I thought Blofeld was a bit much."
The elevator door had barely closed before Eames was on her again. He gave up any remaining pretence of propriety and shoved his hands up her shirt, pawing at her breasts through her bra, kissing her senseless.
"Don't I get a turn?" Arthur said, mildly, and Ariadne understood, suddenly, her place in all this, the way Eames was using her to pick at Arthur, dangling her just out of his reach. She felt vaguely like she should be outraged at being used, just another ploy in their flirtation. Instead she played into it, pressing herself into Eames's hands; she never expected to have much in common with him, but shaking Arthur's carefully maintained cool was something they could both enjoy.
"Thank god this isn't a glass elevator," she gasped.
Arthur snorted. "If it were, he would be ten times worse."
Eames lifted his mouth away from the mark that he was determinedly sucking onto her neck. "Do give me some credit, Arthur, please," he said. "I would be a hundred times worse."
Before Ariadne could imagine what all that might entail, the elevator stopped at their floor. Arthur kept the two of them moving along- though Eames did nearly give up and ravish one or both of them on the door to 605- and they finally spilled into their room. Their luggage had beaten them there, which was good, because Ariadne had forgotten about it entirely. She detoured into the bathroom; when she came out again, the sight in front of her stopped her in her tracks.
Eames had Arthur backed up against the dresser and was kissing him emphatically, his hands pushing Arthur's thighs apart. They were both barefoot, their suit coats discarded- Arthur's hung off the back of a chair, Eames's tossed haphazardly across it. They kissed like they were accustomed to it, like they'd already figured out every mark to hit, like they were desperate to put that knowledge to good use. Arthur slipped his hand between the two of them, rubbing at the bulge in Eames's slacks. Eames made a throaty, satisfied noise; he grabbed Arthur's tie, using it to pull him closer.
Ariadne couldn't decide whether to feel jealous and superfluous or completely turned on.
Arthur shoved at his shoulder, urging him to his knees; before he went, Eames reached up and eagerly mussed Arthur's carefully slicked hair.
"Been wanting to do that all day," he said, winking, as he slid down to the floor. Arthur sighed in exasperation, but he forgot about it just as soon as Eames unzipped his trousers. He tugged the expensive material down Arthur's hips, letting it drop to pool around his ankles. Arthur kicked them away, uncharacteristically reckless with his clothing, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, getting rid of them as quickly as possible. Eames made a satisfied noise, leaning forward to lick at the head of Arthur's cock. His eyes flickering up to Arthur's, he leaned forward and took it into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked.
Ariadne moaned just watching them; Arthur looked at her suddenly, like he had just remembered she was there. "Come here," he said, holding out a hand.
Eames pulled away from him long enough to add, "Lose the trousers."
Fuck it, she thought, stripping quickly and dropping her clothes onto the floor. It was a little strange, being the only naked person in the room, but it was more than worth it for the way Arthur looked at her, his eyes wide.
She took Arthur's hand and let him pull her in, tucking her neatly against his side, out of Eames's way. He laced his hand into her hair, holding her close so that he could kiss her. He kissed like he did everything else, with precision and single-minded determination; he was a little like a laser beam, and all of that energy focused on her was overwhelming.
The only problem was that Arthur was wearing entirely too many clothes.
She worked the buttons of his vest open, pushing it out of the way so that she could start on his shirt. He made a cursory attempt to help her; there was something odd and thrilling about the way his fingers shook. Unbuttoned, he pushed out of his remaining clothing blindly, not even wanting to leave Ariadne's lips for long enough to look.
Arthur made a noise of frustration as Eames pulled away from him. "Who told you to stop?"
"I'm not done with you yet," he said, stroking him slowly, his eyes locked onto Arthur's. "I want to feel you through her."
Ariadne's breath hitched.
"Unless," he said, looking at her, "you're not up to it."
She swallowed, caught between wanting to play it cool and wanting to babble that it sounded like the best idea ever. "I'm not exactly a blushing virgin."
"That's a shame," Eames told her. "But don't worry. I still fully intend to thoroughly corrupt you."
She bit her lip as his hand moved between her legs. "Please tell me you have-"
"My bag, outside pocket," Arthur answered. He shrugged at her questioning look. "It is a tradition."
There were rustling and zipping noises from the floor, but Ariadne was far too busy being kissed breathless to care. She startled as Eames ran his hands up her legs, pushing them apart, and closed his mouth over her. His stubble scraped over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, a counterpoint to the smooth, wet feel of his tongue against her clit. He pressed his fingers inside of her, three this time, moving fast and deep and just right.
She tensed slightly when his fingers moved farther back, but contrary to expectations, he took his time. His slick, deft fingers explored her carefully; he spent a long time just stroking his fingertips over her hole, getting her used to the sensation. His fingers dipped carefully into her, spreading her out, working her open, until, after an eternity, he finally pushed two fingers inside of her. She moaned into Arthur's mouth, clutching at his biceps to keep from falling over.
Eames looked up at her, grinning wickedly. "Oh, this will be fun."
She pulled reluctantly away from Arthur. "God, okay, we should be on the bed by now."
He smiled. "Thought you'd never ask."
Arthur walked over and sat up against the headboard, swinging his long legs up onto the bed. He looked amazing, just sitting there, flushed and eager and all spread out for her like a feast.
Eames swatted her on the ass. "Well, don't just stand there, my dear, go on and get him." She gave him a dark look, but she only succeeded in making him laugh. "If you don't, I will."
She shook her head and climbed up onto the bed, crawling towards Arthur. She was aware that she probably looked more ungainly than sexy, but Eames whistled appreciatively at her anyway. She tried to be smooth, straddling Arthur's thighs, but she overcorrected, landing gracelessly on top of him. "Sorry."
He chuckled, running his hands up her sides to her breasts, his thumbs toying with her small, pink nipples. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for."
The mood was somewhat broken when a condom hit Arthur in the head.
He rolled his eyes. "Very smooth, Eames."
"I am known for my subtlety."
"Whatever works," Ariadne said, picking up the packet and tearing it open with her teeth. She leaned up, rolling the condom onto him before lining them up and taking him in. She sunk down around him, little by little, until he was all the way inside of her. She groaned as he thrust shallowly up into her, working his hips slowly; she leaned down to catch his lips, needing more of his intense, focused kisses.
The bed dipped as Eames came to join them, settling himself behind her, between Arthur's legs. He kissed his way across her shoulders, his hands moving down to the cleft of her ass. He slid his fingers into her again, working them into her deep and slow, letting her ride against them as she moved up and down on Arthur's cock.
It was already too much, and she only wanted more.
She made a sound of protest when Eames pulled his fingers out of her, but then he got right up behind her, pushing her legs a little wider. He wrapped an arm around her- he was still, improbably, wearing his shirt- holding her steady.
"Breathe, love," he said, pushing slowly into her, spreading her apart. It was less than comfortable for a few moments, but then they were both inside of her, filling her completely. She moved, experimentally, rocking back and forth between them, enjoying the stretch, unable to keep her hips from moving a little faster. Her orgasm was a shock; she slapped the headboard, bracing herself, pushing down hard on both of them.
"Jesus Christ," Arthur bit out.
"You are sensitive, aren't you?" Eames said, sounding gratifyingly breathless. "I'll have to test that out later."
"Not right now?" she said.
He laughed."Right now I'm going to fuck you through the mattress."
"Hey," Arthur protested.
"No, darling, I haven't forgotten you're down there." Eames moved his hips slowly, rocking into her; the motion pushed her forward onto Arthur, forcing him deeper inside of her.
Eames set the rhythm, pressing into her over and over again, keeping his hands on her hips to guide her. Arthur pushed back with what little leverage he had, a stuttering counterpoint to Eames, straining up to kiss her, his hands molded to the curve of her small, firm breasts.
Sweat rolled off her, prickling against her skin; Eames kissed his way up her neck, licking the salt right off her. He was talking, saying something profane and blasphemous and meaningless, but Ariadne was too busy feeling to listen to him. It was more intense than she imagined, both of them inside of her, working against each other right through her.
They moved faster and faster, getting louder and more desperate. Arthur looked shocked, dismayed, lost, his mouth hanging open, his breath coming in gasps. Ariadne ground down on him harder, drunk on the power of making him like that, wanting to see him come completely apart underneath her. She got her wish soon enough; his eyes went wide and his whole body jerked, his cock pulsing inside of her. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, smiling.
Eames growled and pulled her back against him, fucking into her frantically, his hand sneaking around to press hard against her clit. She threw her head back onto his shoulder when she climaxed; he groaned and shoved into her one more time, cursing as he came inside of her.
When Ariadne finally opened her eyes again, Arthur was looking up at both of them with a strangely fond expression on his face. She winced as Eames eased out of her, kissing her shoulder apologetically and sliding off the bed. She rolled to the side, lowering herself carefully onto the mattress; she was sore everywhere, but it had been totally worth it.
Pausing to deal with the condom, Arthur lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her; she tucked her head underneath his chin, content to drift off just like that.
"Come on, get up," Eames said, prodding her hip. He looked better and less ruffled than he had any right to be, standing there in nothing but a black dress shirt and a grin. "There is a whole night ahead of us, and the very last thing any of us needs is sleep."
Arthur considered him, through half-lidded eyes. "This isn't going to end with us getting thrown out of a strip club again, is it?"
"We weren't thrown out," he protested. "We were asked politely to leave. We were thrown out of the martini lounge." Arthur rolled his eyes, but Eames waved him off. "Anyway, I have a more intimate sort of debauchery in mind for tonight."
Ariadne stretched. "I already feel pretty debauched."
He laughed. "That was just the warm up, love. What, did you really think you were going to get off that easy?"
She threw a pillow at him.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/247281.html.
comments over there.
Summary: "He wants you," Eames whispered into her ear, "and I want him. What do you say we split the difference?"
Fandom: Inception
Word Count: 2819
Rating/Contents: NC-17, double penetration
Pairing: Eames/Ariadne/Arthur
Policies: Read my archiving, feedback, and warnings policies here.
A/N: JFC this took a long time. But whatever. It is done now. Take it from my sight.
They’d been abandoned, more or less- Saito and Fischer had been collected by their drivers, Cobb was with Miles, Yusuf was running madly through the airport to his connector- so it was just her and Arthur and Eames, making their way towards ground transportation.
Ariadne sped up a little, wanting to be free of the crowds; she still felt the lingering suspicion that, at any moment, they were going to spot her and turn on her. She should have been exhausted, after so much time here, there, and everywhere, but instead she felt exhilarated, excitement tingling under her skin.
“Where will you go?” Arthur asked.
“I have to get back to Paris,” she told him. “But I might spend a few days here first.”
“Visiting friends?”
“My aunt. Where are you going?"
Before Arthur could respond, Eames broke in. “I hate to interrupt this absolutely fascinating conversation, but I think that all three of us," he took each of them by the arm, pulling them around the corner, out of the way of the crowd, "should go right over here."
"What are you doing?" Ariadne asked, as he took her suitcase and set it against the wall.
"Just this," he replied, slipping in behind her and sliding his hands around her waist. He lowered his mouth to her neck, kissing his way up towards her ear.
"And what is this?" she demanded, even while she was tilting her head to give him better access.
Eames chuckled. "Just a little tradition, love."
She shut her eyes, trying to broadcast an outrage that she didn't feel. "Can you please not feel me up in the middle of LAX?"
"Can I feel you up somewhere else?"
Arthur stepped forward. "It's okay, Ariadne," he said softly. "You don't have to get into this if you don't want to."
She swallowed. "Wh- what would I be getting into?" she asked, though she very much hoped that she already knew the answer.
"He wants you," Eames whispered into her ear, "and I want him. What do you say we split the difference?"
Ariadne pulled away, looking him in the face. "You don't want me?" she challenged.
He grinned, predatory, his gaze moving up and down her body. "Oh, I never said that."
She rolled her eyes, unable to keep from smiling. "Let's just go before we get thrown out of the airport."
"Right," Eames said, nipping her earlobe before releasing her. "Shall we?"
As they left, Arthur slipped his hand into hers.
--
Ariadne had no real idea where they were going; she had been a little distracted by Eames and the way his hands kept appearing in strategic locations. Presently, they had worked their way down into her pants; she clapped a hand over her mouth as his fingers pushed inside of her, the side of his thumb rubbing against her clit. He fucked her slow and hard, kissing and biting her neck, leaning up to whisper obscene things in her ear.
Arthur pulled her hand away from her face, shaking his head at her. His fingers curled around her jaw; his thumb tracked over her lips, pressing gently between them. He was looking at her like he was going to eat her alive, just as soon as he figured out where to start.
Eames did something with his fingertips, and she came, just like that, trapped between Eames's hands and Arthur's eyes.
She was still panting and flushed when the cab came to a stop in front of some hotel. Arthur helped her out of the car, and she stood blinking in the impossibly bright California sun.
"I cannot believe I just did that," she muttered.
"Tell me, sweetheart," Eames said, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Exactly what part of your life is particularly believable right now?" He grinned at her reaction. "You hate it when I'm right, don't you? You should ask Arthur about that. He's the expert."
Eames walked her inside, leaving Arthur to deal with the driver and the luggage. There was a line for check-in; Eames spent most of it trying to unhook her bra as subtly as possible. Arthur rejoined them just as they reached the clerk.
"I have a reservation," Eames told her, sliding his ID across the counter.
She looked up at the three of them. "I'm sorry, Mister Trevelyan, but we only have rooms with one king bed available tonight."
He smiled. "That's perfect, thank you."
To her credit, she didn't bat an eyelash, just turned over their keys and wished them a good night.
Arthur gave Eames a look. "Trevelyan? Really?"
He shrugged. "I thought Blofeld was a bit much."
The elevator door had barely closed before Eames was on her again. He gave up any remaining pretence of propriety and shoved his hands up her shirt, pawing at her breasts through her bra, kissing her senseless.
"Don't I get a turn?" Arthur said, mildly, and Ariadne understood, suddenly, her place in all this, the way Eames was using her to pick at Arthur, dangling her just out of his reach. She felt vaguely like she should be outraged at being used, just another ploy in their flirtation. Instead she played into it, pressing herself into Eames's hands; she never expected to have much in common with him, but shaking Arthur's carefully maintained cool was something they could both enjoy.
"Thank god this isn't a glass elevator," she gasped.
Arthur snorted. "If it were, he would be ten times worse."
Eames lifted his mouth away from the mark that he was determinedly sucking onto her neck. "Do give me some credit, Arthur, please," he said. "I would be a hundred times worse."
Before Ariadne could imagine what all that might entail, the elevator stopped at their floor. Arthur kept the two of them moving along- though Eames did nearly give up and ravish one or both of them on the door to 605- and they finally spilled into their room. Their luggage had beaten them there, which was good, because Ariadne had forgotten about it entirely. She detoured into the bathroom; when she came out again, the sight in front of her stopped her in her tracks.
Eames had Arthur backed up against the dresser and was kissing him emphatically, his hands pushing Arthur's thighs apart. They were both barefoot, their suit coats discarded- Arthur's hung off the back of a chair, Eames's tossed haphazardly across it. They kissed like they were accustomed to it, like they'd already figured out every mark to hit, like they were desperate to put that knowledge to good use. Arthur slipped his hand between the two of them, rubbing at the bulge in Eames's slacks. Eames made a throaty, satisfied noise; he grabbed Arthur's tie, using it to pull him closer.
Ariadne couldn't decide whether to feel jealous and superfluous or completely turned on.
Arthur shoved at his shoulder, urging him to his knees; before he went, Eames reached up and eagerly mussed Arthur's carefully slicked hair.
"Been wanting to do that all day," he said, winking, as he slid down to the floor. Arthur sighed in exasperation, but he forgot about it just as soon as Eames unzipped his trousers. He tugged the expensive material down Arthur's hips, letting it drop to pool around his ankles. Arthur kicked them away, uncharacteristically reckless with his clothing, and hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer briefs, getting rid of them as quickly as possible. Eames made a satisfied noise, leaning forward to lick at the head of Arthur's cock. His eyes flickering up to Arthur's, he leaned forward and took it into his mouth, his cheeks hollowing as he sucked.
Ariadne moaned just watching them; Arthur looked at her suddenly, like he had just remembered she was there. "Come here," he said, holding out a hand.
Eames pulled away from him long enough to add, "Lose the trousers."
Fuck it, she thought, stripping quickly and dropping her clothes onto the floor. It was a little strange, being the only naked person in the room, but it was more than worth it for the way Arthur looked at her, his eyes wide.
She took Arthur's hand and let him pull her in, tucking her neatly against his side, out of Eames's way. He laced his hand into her hair, holding her close so that he could kiss her. He kissed like he did everything else, with precision and single-minded determination; he was a little like a laser beam, and all of that energy focused on her was overwhelming.
The only problem was that Arthur was wearing entirely too many clothes.
She worked the buttons of his vest open, pushing it out of the way so that she could start on his shirt. He made a cursory attempt to help her; there was something odd and thrilling about the way his fingers shook. Unbuttoned, he pushed out of his remaining clothing blindly, not even wanting to leave Ariadne's lips for long enough to look.
Arthur made a noise of frustration as Eames pulled away from him. "Who told you to stop?"
"I'm not done with you yet," he said, stroking him slowly, his eyes locked onto Arthur's. "I want to feel you through her."
Ariadne's breath hitched.
"Unless," he said, looking at her, "you're not up to it."
She swallowed, caught between wanting to play it cool and wanting to babble that it sounded like the best idea ever. "I'm not exactly a blushing virgin."
"That's a shame," Eames told her. "But don't worry. I still fully intend to thoroughly corrupt you."
She bit her lip as his hand moved between her legs. "Please tell me you have-"
"My bag, outside pocket," Arthur answered. He shrugged at her questioning look. "It is a tradition."
There were rustling and zipping noises from the floor, but Ariadne was far too busy being kissed breathless to care. She startled as Eames ran his hands up her legs, pushing them apart, and closed his mouth over her. His stubble scraped over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, a counterpoint to the smooth, wet feel of his tongue against her clit. He pressed his fingers inside of her, three this time, moving fast and deep and just right.
She tensed slightly when his fingers moved farther back, but contrary to expectations, he took his time. His slick, deft fingers explored her carefully; he spent a long time just stroking his fingertips over her hole, getting her used to the sensation. His fingers dipped carefully into her, spreading her out, working her open, until, after an eternity, he finally pushed two fingers inside of her. She moaned into Arthur's mouth, clutching at his biceps to keep from falling over.
Eames looked up at her, grinning wickedly. "Oh, this will be fun."
She pulled reluctantly away from Arthur. "God, okay, we should be on the bed by now."
He smiled. "Thought you'd never ask."
Arthur walked over and sat up against the headboard, swinging his long legs up onto the bed. He looked amazing, just sitting there, flushed and eager and all spread out for her like a feast.
Eames swatted her on the ass. "Well, don't just stand there, my dear, go on and get him." She gave him a dark look, but she only succeeded in making him laugh. "If you don't, I will."
She shook her head and climbed up onto the bed, crawling towards Arthur. She was aware that she probably looked more ungainly than sexy, but Eames whistled appreciatively at her anyway. She tried to be smooth, straddling Arthur's thighs, but she overcorrected, landing gracelessly on top of him. "Sorry."
He chuckled, running his hands up her sides to her breasts, his thumbs toying with her small, pink nipples. "You have absolutely nothing to apologize for."
The mood was somewhat broken when a condom hit Arthur in the head.
He rolled his eyes. "Very smooth, Eames."
"I am known for my subtlety."
"Whatever works," Ariadne said, picking up the packet and tearing it open with her teeth. She leaned up, rolling the condom onto him before lining them up and taking him in. She sunk down around him, little by little, until he was all the way inside of her. She groaned as he thrust shallowly up into her, working his hips slowly; she leaned down to catch his lips, needing more of his intense, focused kisses.
The bed dipped as Eames came to join them, settling himself behind her, between Arthur's legs. He kissed his way across her shoulders, his hands moving down to the cleft of her ass. He slid his fingers into her again, working them into her deep and slow, letting her ride against them as she moved up and down on Arthur's cock.
It was already too much, and she only wanted more.
She made a sound of protest when Eames pulled his fingers out of her, but then he got right up behind her, pushing her legs a little wider. He wrapped an arm around her- he was still, improbably, wearing his shirt- holding her steady.
"Breathe, love," he said, pushing slowly into her, spreading her apart. It was less than comfortable for a few moments, but then they were both inside of her, filling her completely. She moved, experimentally, rocking back and forth between them, enjoying the stretch, unable to keep her hips from moving a little faster. Her orgasm was a shock; she slapped the headboard, bracing herself, pushing down hard on both of them.
"Jesus Christ," Arthur bit out.
"You are sensitive, aren't you?" Eames said, sounding gratifyingly breathless. "I'll have to test that out later."
"Not right now?" she said.
He laughed."Right now I'm going to fuck you through the mattress."
"Hey," Arthur protested.
"No, darling, I haven't forgotten you're down there." Eames moved his hips slowly, rocking into her; the motion pushed her forward onto Arthur, forcing him deeper inside of her.
Eames set the rhythm, pressing into her over and over again, keeping his hands on her hips to guide her. Arthur pushed back with what little leverage he had, a stuttering counterpoint to Eames, straining up to kiss her, his hands molded to the curve of her small, firm breasts.
Sweat rolled off her, prickling against her skin; Eames kissed his way up her neck, licking the salt right off her. He was talking, saying something profane and blasphemous and meaningless, but Ariadne was too busy feeling to listen to him. It was more intense than she imagined, both of them inside of her, working against each other right through her.
They moved faster and faster, getting louder and more desperate. Arthur looked shocked, dismayed, lost, his mouth hanging open, his breath coming in gasps. Ariadne ground down on him harder, drunk on the power of making him like that, wanting to see him come completely apart underneath her. She got her wish soon enough; his eyes went wide and his whole body jerked, his cock pulsing inside of her. She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead, smiling.
Eames growled and pulled her back against him, fucking into her frantically, his hand sneaking around to press hard against her clit. She threw her head back onto his shoulder when she climaxed; he groaned and shoved into her one more time, cursing as he came inside of her.
When Ariadne finally opened her eyes again, Arthur was looking up at both of them with a strangely fond expression on his face. She winced as Eames eased out of her, kissing her shoulder apologetically and sliding off the bed. She rolled to the side, lowering herself carefully onto the mattress; she was sore everywhere, but it had been totally worth it.
Pausing to deal with the condom, Arthur lay down beside her, wrapping his arms around her; she tucked her head underneath his chin, content to drift off just like that.
"Come on, get up," Eames said, prodding her hip. He looked better and less ruffled than he had any right to be, standing there in nothing but a black dress shirt and a grin. "There is a whole night ahead of us, and the very last thing any of us needs is sleep."
Arthur considered him, through half-lidded eyes. "This isn't going to end with us getting thrown out of a strip club again, is it?"
"We weren't thrown out," he protested. "We were asked politely to leave. We were thrown out of the martini lounge." Arthur rolled his eyes, but Eames waved him off. "Anyway, I have a more intimate sort of debauchery in mind for tonight."
Ariadne stretched. "I already feel pretty debauched."
He laughed. "That was just the warm up, love. What, did you really think you were going to get off that easy?"
She threw a pillow at him.
This entry was automagically crossposted from http://sabinetzin.dreamwidth.org/247281.html.
comments over there.