Please Dream Responsibly, 1/2
Title: Please Dream Responsibly
Fandom, Pairing: Inception, Ariadne/Arthur/Cobb/Saito/Robert/Yusuf/Eames.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: bloodplay, polyamory, slash, het, slight tentacle!sex, bondage, explicit sex
Summary: "Everyone/Everyone. Ariadne starts private dream spaces that are basically bath houses. She's been quietly populating them with months' worth of every kinky fantasy she can think of, and a lot more she never even knew she had. But one day, the team gets stuck inside her head, and suddenly they're all in the middle of Ariadne's erotic world."
Notes: Written for a prompt on the Inception Kink Meme (can't find the link, sorry). The text of the prompt is in the summary. First part is very NSFW, second part is less so. Also, I'm still not happy with this title, so if you've thought of a better one, please comment and tell me! RAYOR and enjoy!
Ariadne, hooked up to the PASIV, lets out a choked cry that has everyone in the room glancing away from their work and towards her in concern. Her back arches, and for a second she stays that way, held in the air by her own tension; then she collapses back in the lawn chair, panting slightly, breath stuttering.
The team exchanges glances. "Did she tell any of you what she went under for?" Eames asks. He receives four head shakes in return. Saito is there to see what goes on; he's always liked being the tourist. Everyone else is there simply to train, work, wrap things up, and wait for another job to come in. Besides, it's nostalgic. This warehouse looks fairly similar to the one in France, and although it's much closer to Cobb's house - close enough that he can drive there in five minutes or run there in fifteen, if need be - it still feels homey, somehow.
Cobb shrugs. "She muttered something about training, I didn't bother to question it." An answer that should satisfy them, except for that it didn't. "How strong was the sedative you gave her, Yusuf?"
It's Yusuf's turn to shrug. "Pretty mild. Enough for about three hours on the first level. She wouldn't be able to go any deeper without the dream collapsing, why?"
Arthur starts catching on. "Why's she moving, then? We don't move in dreams, do we?" He looks at Saito, who's had the most recent experience watching sedated people. The businessman shakes his head in response. "No. Not unless you are about to wake up, or in extreme pain."
Arthur nods, suspicions confirmed. "My point is that she must be hurt or something, because-" he leans over to check the timer, as he's the closest "-she has a good seven minutes left."
A beat of silence goes by, as everyone looks at each other, the obvious question running through their minds (especially Cobb's): should we do this? Should we really invade her privacy for the sake of satisfying our own fleeting curiosity?
You get three guesses, and the first two don't count.
In practically no time at all, they're out of their seats and hooking up to the PASIV, laying down on the floor in lieu of bothering with chairs. Arthur and Eames are the last to hook up, and Arthur looks to the other man with an attempt to justify intruding on Ariadne's dream. "She might be hurt," he says, and sticks the needle in his vein.
Eames raises an eyebrow. "You might find something a bit more interesting than that, love," he mutters, then hooks up and lets the dream take hold.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
They're in a large area that looks vaguely like the warehouse they work in, but has clearly had significant improvements made on it. For one thing, there's a large swimming pool set in the ground on one side, and the tiled area where there isn't water appears to about the consistency of a mattress.
For another, there are about a hundred of Ariadne's projections in the room, and they're all fucking each other in a variety of diverse and... intriguing ways. Ariadne herself is being held up in the center of the room - the very center, that includes height, too - by what looks like thin black snakes but what on closer inspection Arthur can see is actually the wires from the ceiling, stray electricity playing over Ariadne's body, giving pleasure instead of pain because this is a dream.
She, like everyone else in the room, is completely naked, and as Arthur looks down he realizes that this means them, too. Sort of. Ariadne has apparently dressed them is whatever she thinks will make them look the sexiest. Eames is wearing a pair of jeans (that's it), Cobb is wearing absolutely nothing (oooo-kay), Yusuf and Saito are too far behind him to see, and Arthur himself is wearing... actually, what he normally wears in dreams - formal shirt and pants with a vest and waistcoat.
Arthur has to admit, she has good taste.
Ariadne's head is thrown back, and the tentacles - wires, he reminds himself, wires - are the only thing keeping her in one place. She's completely malleable in their grasp, and she looks like she's never felt better in her life. She gives that same choked cry that she had earlier, louder because she thinks no one's around, and Arthur connects the dots.
"Oh, shit," he says, faintly. The room goes utterly silent and still. A background hum that Arthur hadn't noticed is suddenly gone. Every single projection stops what it's doing and turns towards them. Staring. Silent. Waiting.
"Oh, shit," says Eames, louder, behind him, and Arthur can practically feel Cobb glaring at them both.
Then Ariadne opens her eyes and looks. Straight. At. Them.
And smiles. Arthur thinks he's never quite seen anything as terrifying as that smile, because is it full of the glee a person gets when they know they are in complete control.
Oh, shit.
The projections begin advancing, moving sinuously and distractingly, and all five of them look around desperately for something to kill themselves with, because dying by naked mob attack is not one of the deaths Arthur wants to add to his list, nosirree thank you Bob.
But, of course, they're practically naked. They don't have any guns, or even a knife, among them. The only other option is to strangle each other to death, any nobody's very keen on that.
The projections reach Arthur first, and he braces himself, closing his eyes and getting ready to feel... a kiss?
Arthur slams open his eyes, too shocked to respond. ...the hell? He jerks back, looking up at Ariadne, who is grinning like a diabolic fool, then back at the projection. It licks its lips and rolls it eyes in pleasure, and Arthur can't help feeling a little shiver at that pleasure, too. The projection is undeniably both male and very turned on, and it - he? It? Whatever - leers at him, the broad grin melting into something sensual and slow and hot. Arthur can feel heat starting to pool between his legs, and he spares just one more thought to the fact that he is technically supposed to be straight before seeing the way the projection's hips move as he begins to drape himself over Arthur. Then he abandons thinking altogether.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Eames stares at Arthur, blinking. That was new. Projections didn't- Well, clearly they did. Ariadne must be really fucking horny, is all Eames can come up with, because he's never known a projection to get you off instead of kill you.
A hand reaches around under his arm to snake across his chest, and he reacts instinctively, twisting out of the grip and capturing the arm while his other hand goes to his side for the gun that isn't there.
Which might be a good thing, Eames thinks, because the arm he's holding is attached to a very beautiful and rather well-endowed brunette that looks like an arousing blend of Ariadne and, weirdly, the rest of the team. Including him, which makes him pause long enough for the brunette to lean close and whisper, "That's not very nice."
It sound like a line from a bad porno, but the way she says it, husky and low enough to almost be lost in the surrounding noise, is enough to make Eames forget the words. "I don't care what else you do, darling," he tells her as she backs him into the wall, "but keep talking like that."
The brunette smiles, warm and with fire behind it, and leans forward to kiss him. "Lose the pants," she tells him, slipping her fingers under the waistband, and Eames can do nothing but agree.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Cobb has lost track of the rest of the team, and he doesn't care anymore. He'd seen Arthur and Eames go off with single projections, which he really didn't want to spend any more time thinking about than he had to, but he doesn't know where they are now, and it doesn't matter anyway.
He's been welcomed into the crowd, hands and legs and mouths and tongues and teeth all moving against him, with him, in him, around him. It's like floating in a sea of pleasure, and he has really got to remember to thank Ariadne for taking his clothing, because now he's in the water and it means he doesn't have to bother with taking any of it off.
He's being passed around from person to person, male interchanged with female and it doesn't matter because at this point, anyone's lips feel the same on his mouth, around his cock, teasing down his spine.
He's always thought that people who participated in orgies must be some kind of whores or depraved or something, but right now he really doesn't care. He can deal with the consequences later, once he realizes that that is exactly what this is, but right now all he can feel is the pleasure and want, need, take, give, push, pull, being part of the crowd and moving with it as it breathes.
Eventually he stops moving and sort of floats there, in the water and it seems like time distorts, distills, narrows down to right this minute.
A projection catches its teeth against his lip and makes a sound between a growl and a moan that goes straight to Cobb's cock. The pool is shallow here, so he shoves at the projection, toppling it over onto a ledge he didn't know was there before and going with it. They tussle for the position of top, biting and kissing until Cobb can't tell the difference and he's not very surprised when he ends up pinned. Ariadne was always a better architect than him.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Yusuf is standing in the middle of the room, feeling slightly idiotic and not quite sure where to look. He and Saito are both dressed in what the normally wear (Ariadne must be running out of either imagination or patience), except Saito disappeared a little while ago with a projection, and Yusuf doubts Saito is still dressed at all.
Yusuf has never been one to have sex with strangers. Or much at all, really. He was always the kid that would rather do his homework than party, and would much rather have a cat than a girlfriend.
Hence the awkwardness.
He settles for staring at the place where the wall meets the ceiling, seeing as there are no flying projections. As such, he doesn't notice Ariadne staring at him and narrowing her eyes, and he doesn't see the projection until it taps him on the shoulder with its knife.
Yusuf turns around and his eyes widen. Just his luck to get the one that wanted to kill him instead of have sex with him. He spreads his arms out a bit by his sides. "Get it over with, then."
The projection frowns and shakes its head, sheathing the knife. Then it steps forward and arranges Yusuf's hands - one on its waist, the other in its own hand. It's then that Yusuf becomes aware of the projection's clothing. Actually, that the projection is wearing anything at all. He realizes with a jolt that he'd stopped noticing.
The other thing he notices is that the sound in the back of his mind - which seems to be a product of the dream/projections/Ariadne/whatever - sounds a lot like music.
The third thing is that the projection wants him to dance, and has been waiting patiently for he to realize this. He starts and looks in its eyes, then nods, 1, 2, 3, 4, to the meter of the music that only he can hear.
And the two of them begin to dance in time to the beat of the silence.
As they dance, Yusuf can feel his guard relaxing, his morals becoming a little more flexible with each turn. So when the projection leans forward to kiss him, he doesn't protest. He deepens the kiss, dropping the projection's hand and stilling their movement, sliding both hands up the projection's back until he runs into the sheath's leather strap, laden with various weapon and painful-looking things.
The projection pulls back and gives him a wicked grin that sends a thrill of anticipation down Yusuf's spine. The projection senses it and pulls out the knife it'd had before. Yusuf sees its eyes gleam and swallows hard, glazing pleasure warring with instinctive panic. The projection traces the knife along the line of Yusuf's throat, and pleasure wins.
His vision unfocuses as the projection pressed the knife against his vein, just hard enough to draw a line of blood on the surface, and pleasure-laced pain makes him hiss and throw his head back, baring his neck.
But better than that is when the projection leans down and flicks its tongue against the wound, lapping at the blood, and when it kisses him again, he can taste the blood on its tongue.
And then he can't be rid of his morals and clothes fast enough.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Saito can't see what's happening to him. And he loves it.
Fingers sweep across his chest, undo his shirt and jacket, and when he tries to help, he gets a smack on the back of the hand. The second time he tries to help, he gets a smack on the back of the head. The third time he tries to help, he gets a smack on the ass. He stops trying to help after that.
His tie has gone around his eyes, binding them shut, and Saito's pretty sure he doesn't want to open them anyway. The projections have spun him around, and now they are leading him around the bath house area. It's all about trust, he figures. Do I trust them enough not to hurt me or let me fall? Do I trust Ariadne that much?
Of course, it is a dream, so he can't really be killed, but he can still feel pain. That's the whole point.
The projections stop him and turn him around. He stays still, disoriented. Then a pair of hands lands on his shoulders and shoves him over onto his back.
He throws his arms out reflexively, but the surface he lands on is soft and doesn't hurt him. He feels hands pull him into a spread-eagled shape, and then his wrists and ankles are bound to the floor, possibly with part of the floor. The fingers ghost over his bare chest again and he shudders, arching up involuntarily.
"So easy..." a voice breathes in his ear. Saito goes still, fighting the urge to struggle. "Good boy," the voice tells him, and he feels nails trace his abdomen, following the line of the muscles there, one hand going up to circle around his nipples and the other dipping low to his belt.
He feels his belt buckle being undone, the teasing hand playing with the V of exposed skin there. "Need to get rid of these," the voice says, then takes his earlobe between its teeth and sucks. And fuck if it isn't the hottest thing Saito has felt in way too long. Actually, fuck either way.
He whines, deep in his throat, a high-pitched needy sound that stutters into a moan when the hands yank his pants down and his hard cock is surrounded by something warm and wet. He tries to buck into it, but a pair of hands hold his hips down and he feels a warning touch of teeth along with the tongue that is making him whimper though gritted teeth.
"Don't move," a new voice whispers, and Saito has a pretty good idea of where the first voice is. Can't take his mind off it, in fact. He clenches his hands into fists to keep from moving, and oh, God, he's so close, so close, he just needs to move-
The warm and wet vanishes from his cock, and he gasps without meaning to, before the first voice says, "Keep your mouth shut or I'll put something in it."
Saito shuts up and focuses all of his energy on not moving, on not thrusting into the air because he needs to, so much, he needs-
He's sheathed by something different this time, still hot and wet but hot and wet and tight, and he can't help it anymore, he grinds up into the grip of the person holding his hips, but this time they don't stop him, they ride him, and he feels a pair of knees grip his sides and the person slams into him in time with his thrusts.
Then they shift subtly, and Saito's next thrust goes deeper. Whoever is riding him gasps and then exhales, hard. A pair of lips crash into his-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
A wire slithers up behind him, and-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
He thinks it looks familiar, and then he remembers, oh, yes, it's completely plagiarized from Avatar, but it doesn't matter because-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
It's hooking itself to the back of his head, and he can-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Feel everything-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Right as he comes, and he can feel the rest of the team's orgasms as well, setting each other off, six-fold, a hundred-fold as the projections join in-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
And, God, it's the best fucking kick she's ever had.
Part 2: here.