(no subject)
we live as liars and cheats
arthur/eames, nc-17, 1,071 words.
for this prompt at inception_kink.
don't own, don't sue. just having a little fun.
x-posted to eames_arthur
Eames decides that he's going to quit smoking when he goes off to buy a pack of cigarettes late one night. The five minute drive to the store is just awful, the five minute wait in line is just horrid, and the 7 quid per pack is a heavy burden for his wallet. He tells the clerk "Bensons, darling," and rolls out of there for (what he tells himself is) the last time. He contemplates throwing the pack out the window on the way home.
He laughs at his thoughts and pulls one out, lighting it up. Quit smoking?
"Never ever, darling," he remarks to no one but himself. Never.
---
The next morning, Eames savors almost all the rest of the cigarettes in the pack before Arthur arrives. Arthur isn't particularly keen on his smoking habit, so he attempts to lie low with it whenever possible and when Arthur knocks, all business as usual, he's stamping out his eighth cigarette.
"Shall we, darling?" Eames smiles slyly at Arthur, who rolls his eyes like usual, leading
them out.
Eames makes Arthur stop and buys a pack on the way.
---
And so, weeks later, they are researching and preparing in the warehouse and Eames is itching. Completely dying for a smoke, and as luck would have it, it's raining. Eames looks at Arthur, one of those looks with a bit of a sympathy plea disguised inside. Arthur knows exactly what Eames wants and without saying a word, he grabs his umbrella and walks out of the warehouse. This is the only thing Eames ever asks of him and he asks it often enough.
Outside, it's gray and ice cold, but Eames doesn't care because before long, he's taking a drag of a cigarette, something he hasn't done in hours. Arthur stands close, attempting to keep them both under the umbrella. Eames chuckles, inhaling.
"No worries, love. I don't mind a little water."
Arthur has that stone face he always has, but Eames doesn't care. Partly because of his cigarette and partly because he may have those feelings for Arthur that are deep enough that you don't care a wit about the imperfections. He likes to go with the former, just in case anyone should think he's going soft. He's not sure if he is or isn't, but he would rather focus on tobacco because it's easier to understand. For now.
Eames flicks the butt out onto the pavement and smiles quickly at Arthur.
"Thanks for tagging along, darling."
---
Before Arthur realizes it, he's in London. And even quicker than that, he gets this weird feeling he's never had before. He immediately associates it with Eames, because who else would a weird feeling stem from in his circle of associates? That's when he realizes it, that tick you get, that Eames gets when he...
Fuck.
The last thing Arthur would have ever guessed about himself is that he would start smoking and truthfully, he doesn't want to. But he can't ignore that tick, especially because its the kind that starts off deep in your stomach. Insatiable.
Reluctantly, Arthur finds a corner store nearby and steps inside awkwardly, like he's never bought anything in his life. He almost whispers "Dunhills" to the clerk and pays up, leaving with a fresh, crisp pack of something he swore he wouldn't be caught dead with.
So he figures now, the catch is not getting caught.
He makes his way back to the warehouse, but makes a point of making sure he's not noticed. He leans up against the warehouse, a foot propped up. He lights up, inhales.
Shit, yeah.
He feels tainted, dirty and, dare he say it, perfect.
And just like that, the nicotine's got him.
---
Arthur has enough stealth for a while to pull off the secret smoke breaks. And surprisingly, he's good at keeping it together when he goes out with Eames for his own cigarette excursions. He doesn't ask any questions and neither does Eames, he's safe.
Arthur mentally congratulates himself on a job well done.
---
Arthur realizes how much he loves smoking one day when he goes out for a cigarette in the rain. He tells Eames he's going to the bathroom, who doesn't even notice which direction
Arthur goes in because (for once) he's too busy with work.
Arthur takes his usual spot outside and lights up, taking lengthy drags, filling up his lungs. Part of his love for smoking comes from the peace of it all.
"Ah, darling."
How quickly peace flies right out the window.
"What?" Arthur quickly hides the cigarette behind his back, the smoke spiraling up behind his back, making him a liar already.
"When did the new habit arise, eh?"
Arthur figures there's no use hiding it now, taking another drag. "A while ago."
Eames shrugs, "Well, what can I say? It's sexy."
Arthur almost chokes on the smoke he's inhaled.
"Yeah, I'm very turned on, love." Eames smiles, "I'm also partial to being blunt, so I think I feel like blowing you now, yeah?"
Arthur holds the cigarette between his fingers and his lip between his teeth.
"Good."
Eames leans in, kissing Arthur deeply, the taste of smoke on both their tongues. Before Arthur can kiss back, he pulls away.
"Keep smoking, love."
Eames smirks as he drops to his knees, the cold pavement hitting his expensive slacks. Arthur takes a drag, almost panting. Eames unbuckles Arthur's belt and unbuttons his pants as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, something Eames is remarkably good at. Arthur's breathing is heavy, a combination of the cigarette and every single thing about Eames.
Eames slowly pulls Arthur's underwear down just enough to release his cock, half hard and waiting. He sucks softly on the head and Arthur's already coming undone, smoking at a more rapid pace than ever. The drags are quick, like his breathing, and he's watching Eames because how could he not?
The older man is loving every short breath, every gasp and whimper. He sucks Arthur's cock deeply, his head bobbing at a moderate pace. Eames loves stringing him along.
Arthur's fingers that bring the cigarette to his lips are shaking and he feels his orgasm coming close. "E-eames.."
Eames pulls back, "I know, love."
His movements are fast for the next minute, bringing Arthur closer than he's ever remembered being before Eames came around and with smoke exiting his lips, he comes hard, gasping. Eames pulls back to sit on his haunches, wiping his mouth. He looks up at Arthur, with a face more serious than either of them could ever really manage.
"Quit smoking."
arthur/eames, nc-17, 1,071 words.
for this prompt at inception_kink.
don't own, don't sue. just having a little fun.
x-posted to eames_arthur
Eames decides that he's going to quit smoking when he goes off to buy a pack of cigarettes late one night. The five minute drive to the store is just awful, the five minute wait in line is just horrid, and the 7 quid per pack is a heavy burden for his wallet. He tells the clerk "Bensons, darling," and rolls out of there for (what he tells himself is) the last time. He contemplates throwing the pack out the window on the way home.
He laughs at his thoughts and pulls one out, lighting it up. Quit smoking?
"Never ever, darling," he remarks to no one but himself. Never.
---
The next morning, Eames savors almost all the rest of the cigarettes in the pack before Arthur arrives. Arthur isn't particularly keen on his smoking habit, so he attempts to lie low with it whenever possible and when Arthur knocks, all business as usual, he's stamping out his eighth cigarette.
"Shall we, darling?" Eames smiles slyly at Arthur, who rolls his eyes like usual, leading
them out.
Eames makes Arthur stop and buys a pack on the way.
---
And so, weeks later, they are researching and preparing in the warehouse and Eames is itching. Completely dying for a smoke, and as luck would have it, it's raining. Eames looks at Arthur, one of those looks with a bit of a sympathy plea disguised inside. Arthur knows exactly what Eames wants and without saying a word, he grabs his umbrella and walks out of the warehouse. This is the only thing Eames ever asks of him and he asks it often enough.
Outside, it's gray and ice cold, but Eames doesn't care because before long, he's taking a drag of a cigarette, something he hasn't done in hours. Arthur stands close, attempting to keep them both under the umbrella. Eames chuckles, inhaling.
"No worries, love. I don't mind a little water."
Arthur has that stone face he always has, but Eames doesn't care. Partly because of his cigarette and partly because he may have those feelings for Arthur that are deep enough that you don't care a wit about the imperfections. He likes to go with the former, just in case anyone should think he's going soft. He's not sure if he is or isn't, but he would rather focus on tobacco because it's easier to understand. For now.
Eames flicks the butt out onto the pavement and smiles quickly at Arthur.
"Thanks for tagging along, darling."
---
Before Arthur realizes it, he's in London. And even quicker than that, he gets this weird feeling he's never had before. He immediately associates it with Eames, because who else would a weird feeling stem from in his circle of associates? That's when he realizes it, that tick you get, that Eames gets when he...
Fuck.
The last thing Arthur would have ever guessed about himself is that he would start smoking and truthfully, he doesn't want to. But he can't ignore that tick, especially because its the kind that starts off deep in your stomach. Insatiable.
Reluctantly, Arthur finds a corner store nearby and steps inside awkwardly, like he's never bought anything in his life. He almost whispers "Dunhills" to the clerk and pays up, leaving with a fresh, crisp pack of something he swore he wouldn't be caught dead with.
So he figures now, the catch is not getting caught.
He makes his way back to the warehouse, but makes a point of making sure he's not noticed. He leans up against the warehouse, a foot propped up. He lights up, inhales.
Shit, yeah.
He feels tainted, dirty and, dare he say it, perfect.
And just like that, the nicotine's got him.
---
Arthur has enough stealth for a while to pull off the secret smoke breaks. And surprisingly, he's good at keeping it together when he goes out with Eames for his own cigarette excursions. He doesn't ask any questions and neither does Eames, he's safe.
Arthur mentally congratulates himself on a job well done.
---
Arthur realizes how much he loves smoking one day when he goes out for a cigarette in the rain. He tells Eames he's going to the bathroom, who doesn't even notice which direction
Arthur goes in because (for once) he's too busy with work.
Arthur takes his usual spot outside and lights up, taking lengthy drags, filling up his lungs. Part of his love for smoking comes from the peace of it all.
"Ah, darling."
How quickly peace flies right out the window.
"What?" Arthur quickly hides the cigarette behind his back, the smoke spiraling up behind his back, making him a liar already.
"When did the new habit arise, eh?"
Arthur figures there's no use hiding it now, taking another drag. "A while ago."
Eames shrugs, "Well, what can I say? It's sexy."
Arthur almost chokes on the smoke he's inhaled.
"Yeah, I'm very turned on, love." Eames smiles, "I'm also partial to being blunt, so I think I feel like blowing you now, yeah?"
Arthur holds the cigarette between his fingers and his lip between his teeth.
"Good."
Eames leans in, kissing Arthur deeply, the taste of smoke on both their tongues. Before Arthur can kiss back, he pulls away.
"Keep smoking, love."
Eames smirks as he drops to his knees, the cold pavement hitting his expensive slacks. Arthur takes a drag, almost panting. Eames unbuckles Arthur's belt and unbuttons his pants as quickly as he can without seeming desperate, something Eames is remarkably good at. Arthur's breathing is heavy, a combination of the cigarette and every single thing about Eames.
Eames slowly pulls Arthur's underwear down just enough to release his cock, half hard and waiting. He sucks softly on the head and Arthur's already coming undone, smoking at a more rapid pace than ever. The drags are quick, like his breathing, and he's watching Eames because how could he not?
The older man is loving every short breath, every gasp and whimper. He sucks Arthur's cock deeply, his head bobbing at a moderate pace. Eames loves stringing him along.
Arthur's fingers that bring the cigarette to his lips are shaking and he feels his orgasm coming close. "E-eames.."
Eames pulls back, "I know, love."
His movements are fast for the next minute, bringing Arthur closer than he's ever remembered being before Eames came around and with smoke exiting his lips, he comes hard, gasping. Eames pulls back to sit on his haunches, wiping his mouth. He looks up at Arthur, with a face more serious than either of them could ever really manage.
"Quit smoking."