my will is always weak for your advances.
Untitled
Robert/Saito, NC-17 - prompt: " Saito treats Robert like the pretty little thing he is."
778 words
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Robert is a little drunk and therefore prone to making rash decisions; he follows Saito without a word into the presidential suite where Saito sinks to his knees and undoes the button of his pants, where Saito praises his body with warm, firm hands, unfamiliar and seeking, searching every inch for any sign of weakness.
Saito speaks the kind of accented English that makes Robert's blood run hot; Robert knows he is going to regret this again come Monday morning like he has been regretting it for the past four years, letting Saito map every inch of his body with his tongue and broad strokes of his hands, letting Saito push his knees up to his ears and press wet little kisses down the inside of his thighs, leaving bright red marks with his teeth.
-- but Robert's skin is on fire, and the only thing he can think of is the wet complication of Saito's mouth, the hard scrape of Saito's teeth against the vein of his neck, and Saito's cock, which Robert can see even through the half darkness of the room, hard and heavy through the material of his pants.
Saito kisses him, slowly, like a lover unraveling his secrets or paying penitence, but Robert simply isn't the mood for this, maybe later on after they've made peace, but not now when Robert is hot and desperate and wants nothing more but to be fucked six ways to Sunday. He rolls them over on the bed and climbs on top of Saito who lets out a noise of surprise when Robert tugs insistently at his necktie.
Robert pushes Saito's jacket off his shoulders, wiggling a hand between their bodies to unfasten Saito's pants. He can't concentrate long enough to undo the buttons of Saito's shirt so he leaves it on and noses the stubbled skin of his throat.
"Fuck me." he says desperately, eyes clenched shut. "I want you to fuck me. Now."
Saito moans and captures Robert's mouth in a sloppy, brusing kiss. "Yes, anything you want, sweetheart. You name it, and I will give it to you."
Eventually, Saito sinks inside, seating himself all the way in. Any more and Robert's heart will stop. Saito pours himself all over his back, winding his their fingers together, both of their hands braced on the wall as Saito palms Robert's cock in his other hand. Each slow, measured thrust makes the bedframe rattle, and Robert moans and shouts Saito's name, calling him out obscenely.
Robert pushes back against Saito's cock, wanting more, more, more, shuddering and bucking, head slumping down his chest as Saito drives his cock in deep, screwing himself deeper.
"Tell me what you want," Saito whispers into Robert's ear before nipping his earlobe. "Robert, tell me what you need."
Robert gasps, a painful sob welling in his chest as Saito fists his cock. "I need to come. Please. Please, Saito, let me come." He whimpers when Saito pulls all the way out, patting him on the ass.
"On your back, Robert. I want to see your face when you come, shouting my name."
Robert nods hurriedly, his entire body trembling and wound so tight. He does what he's told, breathing harshly, and spreads himself open to Saito's hungry eyes. Saito sucks two fingers into his mouth and screws them inside Robert's clenching hole.
"N-no," Robert protests when Saito starts to finger him thoroughly, making his cock twitch. "Want your cock, please. Saito, please."
Saito obliges because in the end, he always spoils Robert. He takes his fingers out and grasps Robert's ankles, spreading him wide enough that Robert's face burns even brighter in shame.
"Sweetheart," Saito says, grunting when his cock slides all the way home and they are pressed chest to chest. "You are so hot inside, so tight."
"Saito," Robert moans. He wraps his legs around Saito's back and pulls him down for a deep kiss. A few more thrusts and Robert comes, hard, between their bodies, gasping and shaking. Saito follows a few moments after, riding out his orgasm, filling Robert's hole with his come. Saito doesn't move and for a second just lies on top of Robert, catching his breath and pressing tiny kisses to the side of his neck.
When he pulls out, Robert makes a noise of discomfort and pulls Saito back toward him. Saito drapes an arm around him.
"I'm going to sleep now," Robert says, sinking against his chest, "That was good, thank you."
Saito just grunts and runs a hand through Robert's hair. "Anything for you, Robert," he says and then kisses his temple. "Sleep now, sweetheart."
Robert nods and does just that.
Services
Robert/Saito, NC-17 - prompt: " Robert riding Saito hard, and absolutely loving it."
1006 words
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The conference call goes on longer than Saito would like, and by the time the contracts are signed, it's already 10:30.
Saito arrives at the suite an hour and a half later, exhausted and irritable and ready to crawl under the covers. Which is why he is surprised when he sees that Robert is still awake, checking his PDA in bed and wearing a white bathrobe.
"Hey." Robert says, smiling at Saito when he hears him come in through the door, setting his shoes aside and loosening his tie.
"You're back." Robert beams tiredly. He puts his PDA away, scooting over to his side of the bed. "Good day for business?"
Saito makes a vague gesture with his hand. "I prefer not to talk about it." He sets his jacket aside, and climbs on top of the covers, rolling onto his side to face Robert.
"What about you? Did you have a good day today?" Saito asks.
Robert just smiles and leans down to rub Saito's cheek with a thumb. It's been two years since the inception, since Saito's company bought half of the Fischer empire, and quite frankly, Robert's bed is the last place Saito ever thought he'd end up in. But it is also one of the best things that has happened to Saito in a long long time since the dissolvement of his first marriage and his near-bankruptcy.
Saito sighs, massaging a hand through his hair and feeling the first stirrings of a headache begin. Robert gives him a sympathetic look and climbs on top of him, and even through the robe Saito feels something is not quite right.
"Robert," Saito says, bemused. "Are you not wearing anything underneath the robe?"
Robert looks sheepish but he doesn't respond. Two years, Saito thinks, and slides a hand inside the robe, palming the pale, smooth skin of Robert's thigh and running his thumbs across his hipbones. Robert is hard underneath the silken material, and he lets out a strangled noise when Saito's hand closes around his cock.
"I was waiting for you," Robert pants. "I thought we could have dinner together. You know, for a change." He shifts his hips and bucks twice into Saito's hand.
Saito laughs. "I should have called. I thought I'd be getting back sooner. Had I known you were waiting for me in bed, I'd have canceled all my appointments." He smirks when Robert jerks abruptly around the intrusion of his finger.
"Lube." Robert pants, wiggling around his finger. "We need lube."
Saito locates the bottle in the bedside drawer. He waits until the liquid warms in his palm and then circles Robert's entrance with his finger.
"More," Robert moans. "Fuck. Finger me you dirty bastard."
Saito does so with pleasure, adding a second finger, and then a third when Robert bucks harder, faster down his hand. Saito is so so hard, erection straining in his pants, that when Robert claws at his belt and his zipper, he has to bite his lip not to moan pathetically.
Robert lowers himself on his cock and the sweet tight heat of him is esquisite, surrounindg all of Saito. When Robert has adjusted enough, he starts moving again in Saito's lap, lips pressed tightly together, his head thrown back as he impales himself in slow, smooth strokes, knees trembling.
"I'm going to ride you." Robert says, breathing ragged. He slaps Saito's hand away when Saito reaches for him. "No. Let me do all the work. I want to pleasure you tonight."
He leans forward to brace himself against Saito's chest, fingernails digging hard into Saito's skin. "Does it feel good Mr. Saito? I'd like you to, ah, uggh, e-evaluate my performance."
Saito groans. "Robert. My little Robert." He reaches up to tug Robert down for a kiss and Robert responds to the heat of his tongue with equal fervor, dragging his teeth across Saito's bottom lip, tugging it into his mouth, between his tongue.
"Make yourself feel good, Robert." Saito says when Robert pulls away from the kiss. "Make yourself come from my cock. Don't touch yourself."
Robert nods, hair falling into his eyes as he sucks in a noisy breath. Saito watches Robert continue to ride him, slow and rhythmic, hole stretching around cock; he watches the hard line of Robert's own cock leave faint, wet spots in the fabric of his robe and listens to the bedsprings creak in time with Robert's movements.
Saito clenches his eyes shut, feeling his orgasm building. "Wait, Robert." He holds up a hand. "Stop."
"What?"
Saito rolls them around, moaning when the slightest shift in position makes Robert clench around him. "I want to fuck you like this." Saito says, voice deep and hoarse, pulling Robert's leg up over his shoulder, spreading him apart, open and vulnerable.
Saito thrusts inside slowly and they both moan, eyelids closing, the headboard hitting the wall.
"Fuck." Saito bites his lip. He knows he's not going to last long and neither is Robert who is clawing at the bedspread, one hand clutching the headboard, breath coming up in rapid pants. Robert is hot and tight, so fucking tight inside, and every time Saito pushes in with his cock, Robert just gives and gives and gives, keeps meeting all of his thrusts haflway, tightening his leg around Saito's waist, encouraging him to go deeper, fill me, harder, now, now now.
Saito comes with a loud grunt and buries himself deep enough to hurt, Robert clenching around his cock, gasping and panting and moaning. Saito rolls off him a second later, his pants pooling around his ankles and his dress shirt only slightly wrinkled. There is a spot of come in the corner -- Robert's come.
"So how did you like my performance Mr. Saito?" Robert grins, one eye closed.
Saito rolls onto his side and stares up at him sleepily, taking Robert's hand and kissing his knuckles. "Always a pleasure doing business with you Mr. Fischer. I would like you to know that I find your services ... most satisfactory."
Robert laughs.
Better
Arthur/Eames, Robert/Eames, NC-17 - prompt: " Arthur joins in on Eames' dream and finds him with projection!Robert."
1522 words
--
It is only a simulation before they jump into the real thing but when Arthur finds them there together on the hallway floor, he turns absolutely livid with irrational anger. He doesn't know where the spike of jealousy comes from -- he doesn't own Eames and Eames doesn't certainly own him, but seeing him fucking Fischer Jr., even though none of it is real, makes something clench deep in his gut.
"What the hell are you doing Eames?" Arthur snaps.
It's the warehouse in Paris, complete with dusty windows and smooth, clean floors. A projection of Robert Fischer is on his hands and knees on the floor, pants rolled down to his ankles, the first three buttons of his dress shirt undone.
Eames is right behind him, driving his cock in deeply, each thrust shoving Projection-Robert forward, turning his knuckles white-tipped. Eames' projection of Robert is perfect down to the tiniest detail, he even got Robert's voice right. When Eames grasps Robert by hips, Robert moans and throws his head back, letting out a strangled cry. His face flushes deep red as he pistons back to meet every one of Eames' thrusts, moaning and whimpering, palms flat against the floor, squeaking obscenely.
Eames grunts as Robert reaches down to stroke his cock in time with his thrusts. Robert is a pale, pink shivering mess, as wanton as Eames would've wanted to imagine him. His hair is in his eyes and his eyelashes flutter closed everytime Eames fucks him in slow, smooth strokes, cock hitting home, there, there, right there!, the color of his cheeks deepening until his breath comes out in rapid pants, between his lips.
"Eames," Arthur says dangerously. "Eames, stop it."
Eames just looks at him lazily, dragging his eyes up from the smooth curve of Robert's back to meet Arthur's gaze.
"I'm just having a little fun, love." he grins, pressing a tiny kiss to Robert's sweaty back. "And besides, it was Robert's idea. Wasn't it, pet?" Robert mewls when Eames thrusts in deep enough to hurt if it didn't feel so good.
"Come on, now," Eames murmurs gently, snaking a hand around Robert's stomach and tweaking a nipple between his fingers. "Tell Arthur how much you're enjoying this. Look up at him, darling. Tell Arthur."
Robert lifts his head weakly, blinking back the hair from his eyes. He is absolutely wrecked, devoid of any self-respect. His hands ball into fists and he looks at Arthur, unseeing, eyes unfocused.
"I need your come," he pants, elbows and knees shaking. "I need your come inside me, Eames. Please. Give it to me."
He slumps down, breathing rapidly and Eames grins triumphantly and thrusts in a few more times, never looking away from Arthur.
Arthur's jaw clenches as Eames continues to fuck Robert, continues to tease him mercilessly and murmur filth into his ear. Finally, Arthur can't stand it. He grabs Eames by the collar of his shirt, shoves him off Robert.
Robert lets out a strangled noise of complaint at the lost of contact, swivelling his head around, knees collapsing underneath him.
"Eames," he moans brokenly, panting. "I need you inside me."
"Fuck off." Arthur hisses, barely even giving him a second glance. He fists the front of Eames shirt and Eames laughs like a bastard. "Are you jealous Arthur?"
Arthur doesn't respond, because maybe he is but that won't change a thing. He shoves Eames to the floor and climbs on top of him, rolling their hips together until Eames bucks and pants underneath him.
Arthur grabs Eames by the collar and pulls him in for a long, bruising kiss. Their teeth clink almost painfully and Arthur bites down on Eames' bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood but Eames doesn't complain and just gives just as much as he gets, clutching a fistful of Arthur's hair in his hands and tracing the inside of Arthur's mouth with his tongue.
"I should've known," Arthur pants, fingers scrabbling to get rid of his pants.
"Should've known what?" Eames asks.
"That you're a lying, cheating bastard!" Arthur snaps.
Eames just smiles, eyes twinkling, and doesn't altogether deny this.
They manage to undo Arthur's belt buckle through hasty trial and error and by the time Arthur's pants are rolled down to his ankles, Arthur is so hard his cock is heavy between his legs. He pumps himself a few times as Eames works behind him, screwing two wet fingers into his entrance and rolling them around until Arthur clenches and bucks against them, aching to be filled.
"Come on," he whines, rolling his hips. "Fuck me. Hurry."
Eames pats him on the hip. Arthur raises himself a bit higher on his elbows and knees, fists clenched on the floor. He realises he looks exactly like Robert did a few moments ago, about to be taken on the floor like this with only his pants gone and his shirt and vest still on. Robert just watches them with lidded, hazy eyes, lying on his side, hand curled around his cock.
Arthur narrows his eyes. Before he has the chance to tell Robert to fucking look away, Eames slides inside; and it hurts at first as it always does the first five seconds but then Eames moves experimentally and Arthur feels the familiar jolt spiking inside him when Eames presses against that sweet sweet place.
"Fuck," he hisses, panting harshly. He looks up again and Robert is still there, fisting his cock while Eames pounds Arthur in deep, long pulls.
"You're not real," Arthur tells Robert, eyes rising to meet his. "You're just-ah, you're just a projection. You're not real."
Behind Arthur, Eames laughs.
"So you were jealous." he teases, pressing kisses down his back. "Oh, Arthur."
"Shut up!" Arthur hisses. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"
Eames just chuckles. He dips his head and Arthur can feel him laving wet kisses all over his back, his teeth sinking into the smooth curve of Arthur's shoulder.
"I'm yours, love," Eames whispers into his ear before nipping at it, "All yours."
Arthur moans. He feels drunk, suddenly, so full and ready to burst, Eames cock hitting his prostate over and over in slow and measured strokes. Eames presses in deeply, grunting against him, their bodies straining together, damp with sweat. Eames palms Arthur's cock, kissing the side of his neck, his stubble rasping Arthur's skin.
"Come with me, darling." Eames whispers, pulling out and then pushing all the way in; he does this a few times until Arthur rolls his hips back, begging for friction, for sweet release and Eames just laughs and fingers him, pressing the pads of his fingers in shallowly. He flicks his tongue at Arthur's entrance, circling with his thumb and alternating with brief licks and kisses. Arthur bucks and whines and hisses at him to fuck him, fuck him now, with his cock.
"In front of Fischer Jr?" Eames asks innocently. Arthur looks up: Robert is still watching them with the same calm intensity, hand around his cock as he works his fingers inside himself.
Arthur laughs, clenching his eyes shut. "Yes," he says, voice hoarse. "In front of him."
Eames pounds into him hard enough to send Arthur toppling forward on his elbows, filling him deep and spreading him wide open. Arthur hates being held down like this, losing control, but he wants to show Fischer what sets them apart from each other. Eames is his, and sex with Arthur is what he enjoys best, not sex with a projection or sex with anyone else.
Eames grunts and fucks into him, burying himself balls deep, and Arthur meets him halfway just like Robert did earlier, but he also yells encouragement, "Harder, deeper, faster you fucking cunt, faster! Fuck me." to which Eames responds with fervor, rolling his hips, palming Arthur's nipples through his shirt.
"Darling," he says, "Darling, you're so tight and perfect around my cock, your body is sucking me in. Look at how lewd it is, how hungry it is for my cock."
Arthur whimpers when Eames comes inside him, riding out his orgasm and fisting Arthur's cock. Eames pulls out when he finishes and rolls onto his back, grinning at Arthur with a stupid, spent look on his face.
Arthur grunts and continues to lie on his stomach, hole clenching, come sliding down his thighs when he shifts. He feels sore and tired and pretends it isn't Robert in the corner, catching his breath and moaning.
"Fischer's come too." Eames tells him, thumbing Arthur's bottom lip. "He's so sexy."
Arthur glares at him and punches him in the shoulder, but Eames just laughs and tucks him in with one arm. "I was joking, you're both sexy; no need to resort to violence."
When Arthur just grunts and says nothing, Eames continues, "You know, you make better noises when I fuck you, darling. You're tighter too." He reaches down to push his fingers up the mess in Arthur's hole, twisting them around until Arthur's cock twitches in interest and he moans weakly.
"So wanton, the both of you," Eames says, "But you're without a doubt the screamer."