fiction: anchor come and drag me down
( anchor come and drag me down ) nc-17, ~6500 words, Arthur/Cobb
warning: D/s relationship, collar!kink, sub!Cobb
Cobb used to be a sub with a penchant for being held down, bound and owned. Lately, Arthur's taken to resting his hand on the nape of Cobb's neck which trips his kink big time.
Title stolen from Four Year Strong's Abandon Ship Or Abandon All Hope. A fill for this prompt at inception_kink , thanks to plingo_kat for helping <3
[EDIT]: semi-REwritten @ 14.10.11
"You all right, mate?" asks Eames, and Cobb looks up at him in confusion. He can't think past the warmth of Arthur's palm on the back of his neck, fingers curled on one side and thumb resting on the other. It feels heavy against his skin, hot as well, almost like burning, and the fire spreads to his cheeks, down, down past his hips.
"I'm fine," he rasps, bringing a hand up to his mouth and coughs into it, trying to get rid of the dry sound.
Eames tilts his head at him, looking almost amused, and says, "If you say so."
Arthur clears his throat for attention, still leaning over Cobb's shoulder to point out the positions everyone will be in for the first layer.
"As I was saying," he starts again; grip tightening on Cobb's neck and it feels like he's being leashed; heart leaping into his throat, beating triple time in his chest. He wills himself to calm down, closing his eyes briefly to inhale deeply then exhale.
When he opens his eyes, Eames is still looking at him, head tilted with a curious expression on his face.
-
"Cobb?" questions Yusuf, nudging him slightly and Cobb turns to him, hoping the arousal he feels isn’t plastering his cheeks with red. "Are you all right?"
"I'm good," replies Cobb, quirking a slight smile at him.
Yusuf looks dubiously at him, probably noticing that there is a flush on his cheeks, that his pupils are dilated and that his breaths are slightly laboured. He hopes that Yusuf mistakes it all for a panic attack. Or something drug induced.
Anything than what it actually is.
Arthur's hand tightens on the back of his neck and Cobb chokes on a swallow. He tilts his head up to look up at Arthur, who is standing with his hips pressed against the chair, eyebrow raised in concern. Cobb raises an eyebrow back and tries to relay that everything is fine to Arthur's silent question.
He tilts his head back down again, and if he lowers it more than usual, it isn't his fault.
He misses Yusuf furrowing his eyebrows at him in confusion.
-
"Cobb," whispers Saito, this close to his ear since they're in a huddle, arms thrown over each other's shoulders, shivering against the cold in their practice run of Ariadne's winter wonderland. From what he can see, it looks like quite a challenge.
"Out of concern I must ask if you are all right?"
Cobb breathes out of his nose in annoyance but doesn't show it on his face. Arthur's hand, which isn't on his shoulder but his neck, tightens, and Cobb welcomes the flush of heat it sends through his body.
"I'm all right, Saito. It's just. Really cold.”
"I should take you to the top of Fujiyama one day, Cobb. Maybe then, you can appreciate this level of coldness."
Cobb lets out a chuckle, "Oh, I appreciate the cold, but I have to admit, I’m more of a man of summer."
Arthur's hold tightens even more, and Cobb's eyes flutter at the spark of arousal jolting down his spine. He almost buckles, almost, but regains his composure at the last minute. He throws Saito a reassuring look to his confused one before focusing back into the talk Arthur is giving the rest of the team.
-
The cool of the air hitting the back of his neck when Arthur pulls away is always the worst part of the thrill. It suspends him in panic for a good five seconds before he can breathe again, head falling back against the sofa.
From behind his bangs, he watches the team disband and go to their respective desks. His eyes follow Arthur, watching him settle at his desk and start typing like wild fire; long fingers hitting each key with precision.
"Cobb."
His attention is pulled away from Arthur and towards Ariadne who stands in front of him with her arms around her waist, face pinched in concern.
"Yes?"
"We need to talk," she says and his mouth tilts down in annoyance.
"I don't know what you’re talking about, Ariadne."
She frowns at him, arms shifting up to cross in front of her chest, “I just want to talk, Cobb.”
“Maybe I’m tired of talking.”
Ariadne takes a seat beside him on the sofa, real close and says softly, "Maybe you can tell me why you always get so flustered whenever Arthur is close to you; why you just lose focus all the time, so much that everyone but Arthur can tell that you're not all right."
Cobb narrows his eyes at the floor, not looking at her, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It's nothing."
She touches his knee gently. "You can't say it's nothing, Cobb, everyone has seen it. You've been less discreet about it lately, have you noticed?"
"What do you mean ‘less discreet lately’?" He turns to look at her.
Ariadne looks down her knees, fingers moving to pick at the small hole forming at the knee. "I've noticed it before, sort of, you usually zone out just a bit but you always managed to focus again but lately- well, haven’t you noticed the team’s worried about you?"
Cobb sighs, fingers curling and uncurling in hesitation, and turns to look out at the warehouse, at the others littering it,doing their job.
"If- If I tell you later, somewhere more private and preferably when no one's here, will you leave me alone for a while?"
" I just want to know you’re okay, Cobb," she says, touching his shoulder and if she notices the small involuntary flinch he gives, she doesn't say anything. She pulls away, giving him a small smile and walks off back to her station where model mazes are waiting.
-
The warehouse is empty and Ariadne is standing by the window of the empty break room, low light casting her in an yellow glow.
"Coffee?" he asks, puttering around the bench, making himself a cup.
"It's eight at night," says Ariadne, smiling softly at him. She comes close, sits at the slightly unstable eating table.
He shrugs, adding a spoonful of sugar. "A cup won't keep me up."
"I can't say the same for me. How about water?"
Cobb nods, steps to the fridge for a bottle of water and grabs his cup on the way to the table. He sets the beverages on the table, and takes a seat himself, nervous. Looking down at his cup, he's not sure if consuming it will be a good idea.
Ariadne touches the bottle but doesn't open it. She stares at him. "So."
"So," he repeats.
"You and Arthur."
"Has anyone told you that you're quite blunt?"
"All the time," she says "so, what's going on between you and Arthur?"
"It's nothing," says Cobb, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He sees Ariadne track the movement and she quirks an eyebrow at him.
"I beg to differ. Cobb, whatever’s going on, it's affecting you in the work place and I don’t want anything to go wrong when we’re in the mark’s head. You and Arthur are partners, and if you make a mistake on the job, Saito won't be happy."
Cobb bites his bottom lip and looks down into the dark pool of his coffee. He takes a deep breath and- "Arthur keeps touching my neck."
There's silence, no response from Ariadne and Cobb wonders if she's lost her voice. He looks up to see her wide eyed, lips parted in surprise and she breaks out of her stupor, coughing into her fist.
"I'm sorry," she rasps, opening the water bottle and downing a fair amount. "What was that?"
Cobb feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment.
"Arthur keeps touching my neck."
"Like how you're doing it or the way he usually does it?"
"No," he says, pulling his hand down, "it’s more, like," his hand forms the gesture, "sort o- the way he usually does?”
Ariadne blinks at him like she’s surprised he asked her that. “Well, yeah, Arthur always has a hand on your neck, right?”
"Yeah," he says, swallowing past the lump in his throat, "that’s sort of the problem, when he does it, it just- triggers something."
Ariadne's eyes widen. He can tell she's thinking something awful and he cuts in with, "No, no, not what you're thinking! I just- it's sort of. I used to be. Collared."
She makes a sound, sort of like a squeak.
"Not like a dog, but in a- you know, relationship. But not with Mal," he explains, "she pulled me out of it. Not that she found it disgusting. I was in a bad relationship before I met her, my master wasn’t a very good master but I didn’t do anything about it as long as I had his collar on. She was like this light, after so much hurt, and I fell in love with her after."
He smiles fondly at the memory, remembering how gorgeous Mal looked on that night; how she raged about proper sub care, abuse of trust, how she cut through his collar with her pocket knife, yelling at him to stand on his two feet, rioting about trust and loving only the ones who loved you back.
“So Arthur grabbing your neck… - Does he… know what he’s doing?” asks Ariadne, biting her lip.
Cobb flushes in embarrassment. “I don’t think so. I think he thinks he’s being comforting- I don’t know how to tell him to stop it.”
“Wait- Arthur doesn’t know that you were in a,” she makes a sharp gesture in the air with her hand, “thing? Does anyone know?”
“No one knows, Ariadne,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I haven’t told anyone, I haven’t told Arthur.”
“So. More secrets then,” states Ariadne, looking sad.
Cob shakes his head, wanting her to understand, “This is not a secret that I want to share with anyone,. It’s not something, that normal society understands.”
“We’re your friends, Cobb, we aren’t ‘normal society’! We do illegal things together, enter people’s dreams and extract their secrets- how could we, of all people, judge anyone?”
“They’re two different things and have no relation whatsoever, Ariadne, you have to understand,” says Cobb, slicking a palm over his hair in frustration. “People find us sick and disgusting, like, like we’re diseased, like something’s wrong with us.”
“Cobb,” she says, averting her eyes. “That’s not what I mean at all, I’m just trying to help. I-”
Cobb puts up a hand to silence her, closing his eyes to take a deep breath and letting it out. “Think nothing of it, Ariadne, I understand that you were just worried.”
“I-“ she starts, sighing softly, “If anything, I just want you to be okay, and maybe talking will help. I’m sure Arthur would-”
His eyes narrow at her, and he stops feeling sad, guilty and nervous. “What part of secret and people hate it, do you not understand?”
“But it’s impacting on your focus, Cobb, you have to tell Arthur to stop and you have to tell the team why you aren’t going to have a breakdown any time soon, we worry.”
“I’ll tell Arthur when I want to tell him. Until then, you can assure everyone else that I’m fine and that my problems have nothing to do with my subconscious or Mal.”
“But,” starts Ariadne, eyebrows drawn together in worry, but Cobb doesn’t want to hear anymore, he shakes his head, waves a hand to cut her off.
“That’s final, Ariadne. You can go now.”
“But Cobb!”
“Go home, Ariadne,” he says, steel in his voice.
She pushes her chair back loudly, the wood screeching against the floor, lips pursed together. The look in her eyes is defiant and it makes him slightly nervous, but she doesn’t say anything else.
-
The next few weeks happen and Ariadne doesn’t raise the argument up with him again. But she does shoot him looks whenever Arthur’s hand settles on the back of his neck, thumb moving in circles, and quirks an eyebrow when he lets out an involuntary shuddering breath.
“The run we did in Ariadne’s winter maze was good, but I’ve noticed some of you forgot some of the paths when it came to getting to X-8,” says Arthur, pointing at the map on the table. His fingers tighten on Cobb’s neck, making him clench his eyes shut against the wave of arousal and snapping his attention back to the map. “You have to remember that going right, left, right will lead you to Y-7 which is not the right way. You want to get to W-9 which is straight, straight, left, straight.”
Eames scoffs at that, folding his arms over his chest.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Eames?” Arthur’s grip turns bruising at his anger and Cobb whimpers softly, leaning into the grip.
“Arthur!” shouts Ariadne, and everyone looks at her. Cobb turns his head to her, glaring, but she ignores him. A look of terror and defiance is painted on her face. “You’re hurting him.”
Arthur looks at her in confusion. “I don’t-”
“Your hand.”
There’s an awkward silence in which Arthur looks down at his left hand, then the right, cupped around the nape of Cobb’s neck. There seems to be a split second where he realises where it is and what it’s doing before he’s pulling his hand away from Cobb’s neck.
The second that happens, the second the cool air starts in on his neck, Cobb’s world comes to a rushing halt; there’s a weight heavy on his shoulders and his heart feels like it’s about to burst. He makes a soft sound, hands coming up to stop Arthur from pulling away completely.
“Don’t,” he says with closed eyes, trying to control his breathing, trying to quell the panic threatening to boil over.
“Cobb,” says Ariadne, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” he hisses, flinching away from her. At the hurt look on her face, he holds up his hand, “Just give me a minute.”
“Cobb,” says Arthur, trying to pull his hand away but Cobb shakes his head, pressing the palm down onto his neck. “I don’t understand.”
“He wants your bloody hand on his neck, okay? Just leave it there,” says Eames.
“You’re always touching it anyway,” pipes Yusuf.
“Or did you not notice, Arthur?” asks Saito, raising his brows.
Arthur looks at him, confused, and says, “But I’m hurting him.”
“You’re not,” says Cobb, “You’re really not.”
“But Ariadne said-“
“Ariadne doesn’t know what she’s talking about, she thinks you’re hurting me but- but I…” he pauses, pulls his hands down into his lap, nails digging into his wrists, “But you’re not, Arthur. It’s the opposite, actually.”
“I don’t-”
“Oh,” says Yusuf, eyes wide, “All those signs…”
“Unbelievable!” chokes out Eames, smothering a laugh behind his hand.
Arthur looks at the both of them, confused. Saito pats him on the back and coughs into his hand. “What I believe Cobb is trying to say is-“
“I used to be collared.”
The whole moment comes to a crashing halt, and everyone just freezes.
Ariadne gives him an encouraging smile.
Cobb takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak. But the words get caught in his throat.
He can’t say anything, and feels a fool for just sitting there with his mouth agape. He touches his throat and looks wide eyed up at Arthur. There’s something in his chest, like a balloon inflating beyond its limit, and he feels like it’s about to burst- he barely registers that he’s panicking through the hitching breaths he takes, unable to breathe properly.
The team watches him, confused and concerned.
Arthur’s fingers flex on his neck, and slowly, as if hesitantly, start to apply pressure.
Like a light switch being flicked, the gesture grounds him and the feeling in his chest deflates. He leans into the touch and closes his eyes.
“Guys, if you could give Cobb and I some time to talk? Take the night off, we can resume work tomorrow morning.”
Arthur’s thumb starts rubbing circles into the side of his neck, and it makes his breath catch, a low moan escaping through his lips.
“Cobb,” breathes Arthur, wet and warm on his ear, “Ssh.”
He shudders under the words and sits perfectly still with his head bow low.
Slowly, almost agonizingly slow, the team leaves. He can feel their eyes on him though he refuses to acknowledge them. The final sound of the warehouse door sliding closed rings through the empty infrastructure, and it echoes in his chest. Now that it’s only him and Arthur, he feels his self control crumbling slightly and he digs his nails harder into his wrists in an attempt to curb it.
Arthur moves to crouch in front of him, hand still heavy on his neck. His other hand touches his face, and Cobb tries not to flinch.
“You want to try and tell me what’s going on?” asks Arthur in a gentle voice.
Cobb hates that Arthur thinks he needs to be treated delicately now. He opens his eyes and glares at Arthur defiantly. “It is what it is,” he rasps, turning his head to clear his throat.
“I think there’s more than that, Cobb. I need to know.”
“You don’t need to know anything,” he snaps, wrenching Arthur’s hand away from him. He clenches his eyes shut at the wave of panic washing over him at their absence. “Just stop touching me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” he says, pushing past Arthur so that he unbalances and falls back. He tries to make a fast getaway, the sound of Arthur scrabbling to stand up loud behind him.
“Cobb, wait, don’t run-”
“I’m not running!” shouts Cobb, picking up the pace, panting.
“Well, could you stop trying to put distance between the two of us!” shouts Arthur, hand grasping his bicep and turning him around.
“Well, could you try and stop being rational and calm and treating me like I’m some sort of deranged-” Cobb freezes at the touch of Arthur’s hands curled around his neck and looks down at Arthur’s arms outstretched in front of him.
“I think I know,” says Arthur, slowly, looking straight at Cobb, eyes boring into his, “what you need. But you have to trust me. Okay? You have to give me some time.” With that, Arthur steps in close, thumbs pressing a bruise into the column of his throat. He kisses Cobb lightly, just a touch, but each time he dips in, he takes it further, goes deeper until his tongue is slicking against Cobb’s.
-
They start the relationship out slow and steady but Arthur no longer curls his fingers around his neck. Instead he uses them to lead Cobb into a kisses by the jaw.
“Does he not want you, love?” asks Eames, a glint in his eyes, while they’re in the break room
“Maybe not in that way,” says Cobb, hand coming up to rub at his neck.
Eames tracks the movement with his eyes and with a smirk, he lifts a hand to chase it.
Someone touches Cobb’s elbow before Eames can complete the gesture though, and Arthur is there behind Cobb, pressed up against him. His hand moves from Cobb’s elbow to wrap fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away, down, before moving back up to play with the collar of his shirt, sliding underneath to tug at the tie knotted at the hollow of his throat.
“Two can play at that game,” murmurs Arthur, it’s not even spoken low for just Cobb to hear. He’s sure Eames heard it too.
Arthur pulls away, face poker straight, straightens Cobb’s tie, palm smoothing down its length and walks away.
Eames cocks an eyebrow at him. Cobb refuses to blush.
“Maybe in that way.”
-
“From what Eames told me, I guess I didn’t have to worry,” says Yusuf approaching Cobb, eyes looking him over.
Cobb raises both his eyebrows in question, putting down his pencil and sketch pad. “I’m sorry?”
“No need to be,” says Yusuf, taking a seat beside him. “I guess I was just- prepared to, you know.”
Cobb has no idea what Yusuf is talking about, and he thinks it shows on his face because Yusuf is starting to look annoyed and flustered.
“Before I became a chemist, I was a doctor,” says Yusuf, slowly, as if Cobb needed the stuttered speed to make sense of him. “So if you need any... medical help, feel free to come to me.” His eyes flicker down to Cobb’s neck and it dawns on him, what the hell Yusuf is on about.
At first he’s angry at what Yusuf is implying, that Arthur would really hurt him, and then he’s depressed at the fact that Arthur hasn’t done anything like that at all, hasn’t even taken a step towards hurting Cobb physically. Past the self-pity, Cobb sees what Yusuf is saying behind those words and he’s touched.
“Yusuf,” he starts, lifting his head to look the man in the eyes, “Thank you.”
There’s a beat in which there could be more to be said, but he lets it pass because he doesn’t know what else to say.
Yusuf seems to realise that Cobb is a man of few words when it comes to things like these because he smiles brilliantly, hand clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I mean, we’re all friends, right?”
The words remind him of Ariadne, shouting at him in anger, ‘We’re your friends, Cobb, we aren’t ‘normal society’! ’.
“If anything has happened, I’ll be more than happy to help you, Cobb. No questions asked.”
“Thank you,” he says again, voice hoarse. He looks away for a second then turns back to Yusuf. “You mentioned something about Eames earlier.”
“Yes,” says Yusuf, nodding, “You see, I was worried about how your relationship with Arthur would affect your health. But Eames told me not to worry because even though you guys are together, he said you weren’t together in the way we all thought you were.”
“You have to know that Arthur would never hurt me,” says Cobb straight away, and he doesn’t know if he means that Arthur won’t hurt him more than he wants or that Arthur won’t hurt him at all. “Don’t listen to Eames, he just- it’s complicated.” He pauses to think if there’s any other way to describe what’s going on but there isn’t. “But I appreciate the sentiment, Yusuf, I’ll keep it in mind.”
“That’s all I wanted you to do.” Yusuf claps him again on the shoulder and stands up, walking away.
Before Cobb can even pick up his pencil and sketchpad, there’s a touch on his elbow and Arthur is draping himself meticulously on the arm of the sofa.
“What was that all about?” he murmurs, hands straightening out the collar of Cobb’s shirt, fingers dipping into the open slit, dragging against his skin.
Cobb draws a breath through his teeth, willing himself not to react to Arthur’s tease. Even though Arthur hasn’t taken Cobb to bed, hasn’t indulged him in his kinks, he’s gotten to teasing ever since the situation with Eames. It’s not fair that Arthur likes to make it look like he’s claimed Cobb when in actuality he hasn’t.
“He just wants to know if we’re doing okay,” he says, smiling up at Arthur.
“And what did you say?”
“I said we’re doing great.” There’s a split second where Arthur may have tensed, may have caught onto Cobb’s lie, but it was so brief that he can’t be sure before Arthur is pressing a kiss to his temple and moving off.
-
Cobb sends Arthur off with a kiss that makes Arthur’s eyes grow dark, hand lingering over the curve of his ass. He watches Arthur leave through the warehouse’s front door and turns back to his desk. The sounds of footsteps make him pause and he looks up to see Saito thumb his nose.
“Saito,” greets Cobb.
“Cobb,” responds Saito, holding his head high.
“Can I help you?”
Saito steps closer and folds his arms over his chest. “About your blossoming relationship with Arthur-”
“Thank you for your concern, Saito,” cuts Cobb, holding up his hand, “the team has already expressed their concerns to me about our relationship. I assure you that it is going on perfectly.”
“That is good to hear, but it is not what I was going to address,” says Saito, with a small smile, “I would like to extend my congratulations first, and offer training for Arthur to partake as a means of introducing him to the art of bondage.”
Cobb chokes at that, coughing twice in his hand to get over his surprise, looking up at Saito with wide eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“I have many connections in Japan, Cobb, even to the underground arts, so that if you need Arthur to learn, then I am ready to share my resources.”
The image of Saito in the bondage scene is wild in Cobb’s mind and he shakes his head to get rid of it, thoughts warping until it’s Arthur. Arthur with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his hands make quick, sharp movements in tying the ropes with precision. The thought of Arthur being able to weave lines around his body, tying him tight so that he’s unable to move but only able to squirm and writhe in the bonds makes his cock twitch in the confines of his pants.
“Saito, I- thank you for the offer but I have to decline in Arthur’s place. Let’s just say... we’re not ready to take a step that way yet.”
Saito nods in understanding, hands moving to delve into his pockets. “Well, if anything, do not hesitate to come to me.”
As Cobb nods, ready to thank Saito again, Arthur comes striding back in, “Oh Cobb, I forgot,” he cuts himself off when he sees Saito and raises an eyebrow.
“Arthur,” says Saito, acknowledging him, and then he nods at them both and walks off.
Arthur gets to the desk, hands reaching for the stack of papers to Cobb’s side and gathers it, sliding it into his bag. “What was that all about?” he asks, putting a hand on Cobb’s shoulder, close to his neck.
Cobb turns his head away, not wanting to say. "Saito was just. Offering his congratulations on our relationship."
"Is that all?" Arthur walks around him, capturing his jaw between his finger and thumb. Cobb meets his eyes and smiles, ducking his head slightly.
Arthur smiles back and kisses him, hand moving down his chest to pull his shirt out of his pants, touching the skin of his hip.
"Arthur," breathes Cobb, taking hold of his tie and pulling him closer. They kiss dirty, tongues tangled up wetly with each other, Arthur's hand pressed to the small of his back, the touch hot.
After a few minutes, Arthur takes a step back, panting slightly, “I need- need to go,” he checks his watch and swears.
Cobb just grins when Arthur runs off, willing himself not to think about Arthur tying him up.
-
After their sixth date, Arthur takes them back to his hotel room.
He leads Cobb to the bedroom with kisses, lays him down and prepares him slowly. It’s nice what Arthur’s doing, it makes him gasp and grasp at the sheets in pleasure but it’s not what his body is wanting, not what it’s been expecting since Arthur first laid hand on his neck.
“Ready?” asks Arthur against his neck, slipping his fingers out to roll on a condom.
“Do it,” says Cobb, threading his fingers through Arthur’s hair as he pushes in.
Arthur starts slow, makes sure he’s comfortable before setting out a steady pace, rocking in and out, fingers wrapping around his cock. He moans at the touch, revels in the fact that this is Arthur fucking him like a gentle lover, that he’s real and not just a figment of induced dreams.
When Arthur comes, Cobb is still hard, knees squeezing his hips, feet pressed against the small of his back.
“Come on,” says Arthur, stroking faster, “come on, Dom.”
Cobb groans low in his throat, arching back his head, “Arthur. Arthur.” His hands shifts everywhere, from the sheets, to the headboard, to the pillow, twisting and grappling until he gets a hand on his own neck, nails digging into skin and dragging red lines down the column of his throat, down his chest.
Arthur seems to freeze for a second before pulling out. Cobb’s left confused and flustered until Arthur pushes two fingers in and slides his hand from Cobb’s cock to his neck, pushing down. “Come for me.”
He gasps through the bruising force and shoots white all over his stomach.
-
“Cobb, your throat,” says Ariadne, circling the desk, and standing in front of him.
“It’s nothing,” he says, holding the collar of his shirt together, trying to look like he’s unaffected by her attention but the truth is, just knowing that the others can see the bruise makes him hard.
“It looks like it hurts.”
It does.
“It doesn’t. Ariadne, I’ve already said-“
“I know,” says Ariadne, pulling the tie hanging from his knee to loop it under his collar, “but I worry all the same.”
Cobb puts his hands in his lap as Ariadne buttons up his shirt, lingering briefly on the button at his neck. “You’re very mother-hennish, aren’t you?”
She smiles, adjusting the length of the tie before starting. “I can’t help it. Believe it or not, I grew up in a family of six. Being the second eldest, it was my job to look after my siblings while my parents and older sister worked.”
“You know that we’re all grown men, right?”
“I know,” repeats Ariadne, ducking her head with an embarrassed smile before finishing the knot and smoothing it out. “There, done.”
“Are you ready, Cobb?” asks Arthur, walking over, wearing a coat over his suit with a briefcase in one hand, another coat in the other.
“Yeah,” says Cobb, accepting the coat Arthur hands him. “Thanks, Ariadne.”
Ariadne just smiles wordlessly, giving a small shrug and gets up to walk away. When she’s at a good distance, Arthur sighs softly and sets down his briefcase, fingers unknotting Cobb’s tie. “Honestly, you should have told her to tie a Pratt knot and not a double Windsor, Dom.”
Cobb doesn’t say anything, just smiles as Arthur pulls his tie free. He starts to get unnerved though, when Arthur starts undoing the top buttons of his shirt.
“Arthur,” he says, trying to step back, but Arthur makes a sharp sound that makes him halt. Fingers touch the bruise decorating his neck, almost caressing them while the thumb applies just the slightest pressure.
“Arthur,” he repeats and this time his voice is rough.
His heart skips a beat when Arthur’s head drops to his chest, forehead against his collarbone. His hands come up to the sides of Arthur’s head, scared, and that’s when he hears Arthur murmuring.
“Sorry,” says Arthur into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not doing it right.”
Cobb’s confused, he’s not sure what Arthur’s talking about. “Arthur?”
“Yesterday,” says Arthur, “yesterday wasn’t right, but.”
So that’s what Arthur’s on about. Cobb shakes his head, opens his mouth to protest but Arthur grabs his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “But give me a few more days, Dom. A few more days and I’ll do it right.” He looks up at Cobb, determination in his eyes, and Cobb nods, closing his mouth.
Arthur smiles wide at him and buttons back his shirt, fingers turning his tie inside out before deftly looping it into a perfect Pratt knot. He tightens it more than usual so that it cuts just the slightest into Cobb’s neck.
If he notices, he doesn’t fix it.
-
Four days later, at a quarter to seven, Arthur comes up to his side and says, “When everyone has left the warehouse, I want you to kneel by my desk and wait for me. Got it?”
Cobb turns to question him but at Arthur’s raised eyebrow, he keeps his mouth shut and nods. Arthur runs a hand up the curve of his shoulder to squeeze his neck gently before turning away towards Saito.
The gesture shocks him as much as the jolt of arousal and he’s left to lean against his desk, hands clutching the edge.
He shakes with anticipation.
This is the first time Arthur’s given him an order and his body is more than willing to comply. He watches Arthur eagerly from the corner of his eyes; making his rounds as he chats to everyone to keep up with their progress, offering feedback and telling them to pack up for the day. One by one he sees everyone leave; Saito, Yusuf, Ariadne then Eames, until Arthur walks past him, giving him a slight glance before disappearing into another room.
That’s when Cobb moves, abandoning his work to walk to Arthur’s desk. He fingers the flaking varnish at the corner before removing his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair tucked under the desk. With a deep breath, he drops to his knees, head bowed and hands by his side.
He waits, the cold seeping from the ground to the bone of his knees, the pain numbing the longer he stays in position. His neck feels like he needs to give it a good stretch to hear it crack, but he doesn’t. He stays absolutely still because this is what Arthur wants.
Time seems to go by slowly while his body thrums with excitement; he’s already half-hard. He doesn’t know how long he’s been kneeling, mind drifting off, and he doesn’t even realise that Arthur is in front of him until his hand touches his head.
“Dom,” says Arthur, threading fingers through his hair, fisting it so that he can pull Cobb’s head back.
Arthur smiles warmly down at him and crouches down, meeting him eye to eye. “I’ve got something for you.”
Cobb raises his eyebrows in surprise as Arthur reaches for the black box on the desk. He doesn’t say anything as he holds it up with one hand, the other lifting the lid to reveal gold satin lining with a black collar lying in the centre, about an inch wide, in leather with a single D ring at the front.
He bites his bottom lip and looks up at Arthur, questioning.
“If we do this, Dom, if you become my sub,” says Arthur, looking at him intently, “it will be whenever you have the collar on. You’ll obey my every command and know that everything that you are, all of you, belong to me. I… know that some have open relationships for this but I’m willing to dedicate myself to you even when you don’t have the collar on and I’m hoping you will do the same for me.
“I’m also aware that I don’t have any prior experience at this but I am open to negotiating our relationship through our time together and if at any time, for any reason, you want out, you just tell me, and I’ll let you go, no questions asked. Do you understand? Do you trust and allow me to take care of you?”
Cobb’s eyes fall shut underneath Arthur’s hand.
“Yes,” he says, “Yes, I trust you to be my Dom, Arthur, I accept your conditions.”
All the tension melts out of Arthur’s body at Cobb’s words and his expression softens.
“Thank you,” he says, leaning in to give Cobb a kiss. When he pulls away, he pats Cobb’s cheek and asks, “Do you have a safe word?”
“Lightning,” says Cobb, watching Arthur set the box down and lifting the collar out.
“Lightning,” repeats Arthur, nodding, “okay- okay,” he removes the padlock from the back of it, unclasping it so it opens, “so- I got you a locking collar,” he explains, wrapping the leather around Cobb’s throat, “so that if. If you ever wanted to give yourself completely to me, then all we have to do is lock it and you’ll trust that anything I do to you is for you.”
Arthur loops the collar around his throat and it’s just the right fit, the butter soft interior hugs the circumference of his neck. A feeling of calm washes over Cobb and he leans in Arthur’s touch as he clasps closed.
“Just know that I’ll always have the key with me when you’re ready,” says Arthur, getting up and stepping back.
The distance between them seems to shift the atmosphere
Cobb watches Arthur stand back, eyes raking over his body like a promise and it makes him shiver.
Arthur quirks a little smile at him, “Is that all right? Did I leave anything out?”
“You did good,” says Cobb, fingers coming up to touch his collar, “I’m surprised. What- what should I call you? Master?”
“You know I always do my research, Arthur is just fine,” says Arthur, and he flicks his hand up, “stand, Dom.”
Cobb stands up at the order, legs weak from all the kneeling.
“Follow,” instructs Arthur, walking off and Cobb does, trying to shake the ache out of his legs as best he can as they move.
They weave through the warehouse, stopping at an out of the way corner that Cobb recognises as Arthur’s little sleeping nook for all the times he doesn’t bother coming back to the hotel. There are things distinctly Arthur there; neatly arranged snacks, piles of notes, documents, photocopies, sketches, a spare suit that’s been bagged for protection and hanging above the head of the mattress, a spare magazine already loaded with 9x19 cartridges sitting beside an empty water bottle.
“Clothes off and lie down,” says Arthur and Cobb’s fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before Arthur has even finished talking.
Arthur doesn’t move to help, just stands there and watches Cobb undress, taking in every movement. He keeps watching even when Cobb is completely naked and positioning himself on the bed; head on the pillow, arms by his side with his legs spread just the slightest. Cobb feels his cock twitch under Arthur’s gaze and coughs into the silence, embarrassed and aroused.
They stay like that for a while, Arthur just keeps looking and Cobb tries not to fidget under his scrutiny, feeling restless, feeling exposed.
“You’re so beautiful,” says Arthur, then, breaking the quiet. The sounds of him stripping; kicking off his shoes, undoing his vest, unknotting his tie is loud in Cobb’s ears. “Just with my collar around your neck- fuck, Dom.”
Dressed in just his shirt and slacks, Arthur makes his way onto the bed, spooning behind Cobb, one arm slung low around his hips and the other playing with clasp of the collar.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers into Cobb’s nape, pressing a kiss below the leather.
Cobb shivers at the touch, at the words. He doesn’t turn around to Arthur, even though he wants to. Instead he catches the hand at his hip and threads their fingers together, hoping that Arthur will understand what he wants to say; how appreciative, how grateful, how happy he is.
The squeeze in return is answer enough.
warning: D/s relationship, collar!kink, sub!Cobb
Cobb used to be a sub with a penchant for being held down, bound and owned. Lately, Arthur's taken to resting his hand on the nape of Cobb's neck which trips his kink big time.
Title stolen from Four Year Strong's Abandon Ship Or Abandon All Hope. A fill for this prompt at inception_kink , thanks to plingo_kat for helping <3
[EDIT]: semi-REwritten @ 14.10.11
"You all right, mate?" asks Eames, and Cobb looks up at him in confusion. He can't think past the warmth of Arthur's palm on the back of his neck, fingers curled on one side and thumb resting on the other. It feels heavy against his skin, hot as well, almost like burning, and the fire spreads to his cheeks, down, down past his hips.
"I'm fine," he rasps, bringing a hand up to his mouth and coughs into it, trying to get rid of the dry sound.
Eames tilts his head at him, looking almost amused, and says, "If you say so."
Arthur clears his throat for attention, still leaning over Cobb's shoulder to point out the positions everyone will be in for the first layer.
"As I was saying," he starts again; grip tightening on Cobb's neck and it feels like he's being leashed; heart leaping into his throat, beating triple time in his chest. He wills himself to calm down, closing his eyes briefly to inhale deeply then exhale.
When he opens his eyes, Eames is still looking at him, head tilted with a curious expression on his face.
-
"Cobb?" questions Yusuf, nudging him slightly and Cobb turns to him, hoping the arousal he feels isn’t plastering his cheeks with red. "Are you all right?"
"I'm good," replies Cobb, quirking a slight smile at him.
Yusuf looks dubiously at him, probably noticing that there is a flush on his cheeks, that his pupils are dilated and that his breaths are slightly laboured. He hopes that Yusuf mistakes it all for a panic attack. Or something drug induced.
Anything than what it actually is.
Arthur's hand tightens on the back of his neck and Cobb chokes on a swallow. He tilts his head up to look up at Arthur, who is standing with his hips pressed against the chair, eyebrow raised in concern. Cobb raises an eyebrow back and tries to relay that everything is fine to Arthur's silent question.
He tilts his head back down again, and if he lowers it more than usual, it isn't his fault.
He misses Yusuf furrowing his eyebrows at him in confusion.
-
"Cobb," whispers Saito, this close to his ear since they're in a huddle, arms thrown over each other's shoulders, shivering against the cold in their practice run of Ariadne's winter wonderland. From what he can see, it looks like quite a challenge.
"Out of concern I must ask if you are all right?"
Cobb breathes out of his nose in annoyance but doesn't show it on his face. Arthur's hand, which isn't on his shoulder but his neck, tightens, and Cobb welcomes the flush of heat it sends through his body.
"I'm all right, Saito. It's just. Really cold.”
"I should take you to the top of Fujiyama one day, Cobb. Maybe then, you can appreciate this level of coldness."
Cobb lets out a chuckle, "Oh, I appreciate the cold, but I have to admit, I’m more of a man of summer."
Arthur's hold tightens even more, and Cobb's eyes flutter at the spark of arousal jolting down his spine. He almost buckles, almost, but regains his composure at the last minute. He throws Saito a reassuring look to his confused one before focusing back into the talk Arthur is giving the rest of the team.
-
The cool of the air hitting the back of his neck when Arthur pulls away is always the worst part of the thrill. It suspends him in panic for a good five seconds before he can breathe again, head falling back against the sofa.
From behind his bangs, he watches the team disband and go to their respective desks. His eyes follow Arthur, watching him settle at his desk and start typing like wild fire; long fingers hitting each key with precision.
"Cobb."
His attention is pulled away from Arthur and towards Ariadne who stands in front of him with her arms around her waist, face pinched in concern.
"Yes?"
"We need to talk," she says and his mouth tilts down in annoyance.
"I don't know what you’re talking about, Ariadne."
She frowns at him, arms shifting up to cross in front of her chest, “I just want to talk, Cobb.”
“Maybe I’m tired of talking.”
Ariadne takes a seat beside him on the sofa, real close and says softly, "Maybe you can tell me why you always get so flustered whenever Arthur is close to you; why you just lose focus all the time, so much that everyone but Arthur can tell that you're not all right."
Cobb narrows his eyes at the floor, not looking at her, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It's nothing."
She touches his knee gently. "You can't say it's nothing, Cobb, everyone has seen it. You've been less discreet about it lately, have you noticed?"
"What do you mean ‘less discreet lately’?" He turns to look at her.
Ariadne looks down her knees, fingers moving to pick at the small hole forming at the knee. "I've noticed it before, sort of, you usually zone out just a bit but you always managed to focus again but lately- well, haven’t you noticed the team’s worried about you?"
Cobb sighs, fingers curling and uncurling in hesitation, and turns to look out at the warehouse, at the others littering it,doing their job.
"If- If I tell you later, somewhere more private and preferably when no one's here, will you leave me alone for a while?"
" I just want to know you’re okay, Cobb," she says, touching his shoulder and if she notices the small involuntary flinch he gives, she doesn't say anything. She pulls away, giving him a small smile and walks off back to her station where model mazes are waiting.
-
The warehouse is empty and Ariadne is standing by the window of the empty break room, low light casting her in an yellow glow.
"Coffee?" he asks, puttering around the bench, making himself a cup.
"It's eight at night," says Ariadne, smiling softly at him. She comes close, sits at the slightly unstable eating table.
He shrugs, adding a spoonful of sugar. "A cup won't keep me up."
"I can't say the same for me. How about water?"
Cobb nods, steps to the fridge for a bottle of water and grabs his cup on the way to the table. He sets the beverages on the table, and takes a seat himself, nervous. Looking down at his cup, he's not sure if consuming it will be a good idea.
Ariadne touches the bottle but doesn't open it. She stares at him. "So."
"So," he repeats.
"You and Arthur."
"Has anyone told you that you're quite blunt?"
"All the time," she says "so, what's going on between you and Arthur?"
"It's nothing," says Cobb, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. He sees Ariadne track the movement and she quirks an eyebrow at him.
"I beg to differ. Cobb, whatever’s going on, it's affecting you in the work place and I don’t want anything to go wrong when we’re in the mark’s head. You and Arthur are partners, and if you make a mistake on the job, Saito won't be happy."
Cobb bites his bottom lip and looks down into the dark pool of his coffee. He takes a deep breath and- "Arthur keeps touching my neck."
There's silence, no response from Ariadne and Cobb wonders if she's lost her voice. He looks up to see her wide eyed, lips parted in surprise and she breaks out of her stupor, coughing into her fist.
"I'm sorry," she rasps, opening the water bottle and downing a fair amount. "What was that?"
Cobb feels his cheeks heat in embarrassment.
"Arthur keeps touching my neck."
"Like how you're doing it or the way he usually does it?"
"No," he says, pulling his hand down, "it’s more, like," his hand forms the gesture, "sort o- the way he usually does?”
Ariadne blinks at him like she’s surprised he asked her that. “Well, yeah, Arthur always has a hand on your neck, right?”
"Yeah," he says, swallowing past the lump in his throat, "that’s sort of the problem, when he does it, it just- triggers something."
Ariadne's eyes widen. He can tell she's thinking something awful and he cuts in with, "No, no, not what you're thinking! I just- it's sort of. I used to be. Collared."
She makes a sound, sort of like a squeak.
"Not like a dog, but in a- you know, relationship. But not with Mal," he explains, "she pulled me out of it. Not that she found it disgusting. I was in a bad relationship before I met her, my master wasn’t a very good master but I didn’t do anything about it as long as I had his collar on. She was like this light, after so much hurt, and I fell in love with her after."
He smiles fondly at the memory, remembering how gorgeous Mal looked on that night; how she raged about proper sub care, abuse of trust, how she cut through his collar with her pocket knife, yelling at him to stand on his two feet, rioting about trust and loving only the ones who loved you back.
“So Arthur grabbing your neck… - Does he… know what he’s doing?” asks Ariadne, biting her lip.
Cobb flushes in embarrassment. “I don’t think so. I think he thinks he’s being comforting- I don’t know how to tell him to stop it.”
“Wait- Arthur doesn’t know that you were in a,” she makes a sharp gesture in the air with her hand, “thing? Does anyone know?”
“No one knows, Ariadne,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I haven’t told anyone, I haven’t told Arthur.”
“So. More secrets then,” states Ariadne, looking sad.
Cob shakes his head, wanting her to understand, “This is not a secret that I want to share with anyone,. It’s not something, that normal society understands.”
“We’re your friends, Cobb, we aren’t ‘normal society’! We do illegal things together, enter people’s dreams and extract their secrets- how could we, of all people, judge anyone?”
“They’re two different things and have no relation whatsoever, Ariadne, you have to understand,” says Cobb, slicking a palm over his hair in frustration. “People find us sick and disgusting, like, like we’re diseased, like something’s wrong with us.”
“Cobb,” she says, averting her eyes. “That’s not what I mean at all, I’m just trying to help. I-”
Cobb puts up a hand to silence her, closing his eyes to take a deep breath and letting it out. “Think nothing of it, Ariadne, I understand that you were just worried.”
“I-“ she starts, sighing softly, “If anything, I just want you to be okay, and maybe talking will help. I’m sure Arthur would-”
His eyes narrow at her, and he stops feeling sad, guilty and nervous. “What part of secret and people hate it, do you not understand?”
“But it’s impacting on your focus, Cobb, you have to tell Arthur to stop and you have to tell the team why you aren’t going to have a breakdown any time soon, we worry.”
“I’ll tell Arthur when I want to tell him. Until then, you can assure everyone else that I’m fine and that my problems have nothing to do with my subconscious or Mal.”
“But,” starts Ariadne, eyebrows drawn together in worry, but Cobb doesn’t want to hear anymore, he shakes his head, waves a hand to cut her off.
“That’s final, Ariadne. You can go now.”
“But Cobb!”
“Go home, Ariadne,” he says, steel in his voice.
She pushes her chair back loudly, the wood screeching against the floor, lips pursed together. The look in her eyes is defiant and it makes him slightly nervous, but she doesn’t say anything else.
-
The next few weeks happen and Ariadne doesn’t raise the argument up with him again. But she does shoot him looks whenever Arthur’s hand settles on the back of his neck, thumb moving in circles, and quirks an eyebrow when he lets out an involuntary shuddering breath.
“The run we did in Ariadne’s winter maze was good, but I’ve noticed some of you forgot some of the paths when it came to getting to X-8,” says Arthur, pointing at the map on the table. His fingers tighten on Cobb’s neck, making him clench his eyes shut against the wave of arousal and snapping his attention back to the map. “You have to remember that going right, left, right will lead you to Y-7 which is not the right way. You want to get to W-9 which is straight, straight, left, straight.”
Eames scoffs at that, folding his arms over his chest.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Eames?” Arthur’s grip turns bruising at his anger and Cobb whimpers softly, leaning into the grip.
“Arthur!” shouts Ariadne, and everyone looks at her. Cobb turns his head to her, glaring, but she ignores him. A look of terror and defiance is painted on her face. “You’re hurting him.”
Arthur looks at her in confusion. “I don’t-”
“Your hand.”
There’s an awkward silence in which Arthur looks down at his left hand, then the right, cupped around the nape of Cobb’s neck. There seems to be a split second where he realises where it is and what it’s doing before he’s pulling his hand away from Cobb’s neck.
The second that happens, the second the cool air starts in on his neck, Cobb’s world comes to a rushing halt; there’s a weight heavy on his shoulders and his heart feels like it’s about to burst. He makes a soft sound, hands coming up to stop Arthur from pulling away completely.
“Don’t,” he says with closed eyes, trying to control his breathing, trying to quell the panic threatening to boil over.
“Cobb,” says Ariadne, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t touch me!” he hisses, flinching away from her. At the hurt look on her face, he holds up his hand, “Just give me a minute.”
“Cobb,” says Arthur, trying to pull his hand away but Cobb shakes his head, pressing the palm down onto his neck. “I don’t understand.”
“He wants your bloody hand on his neck, okay? Just leave it there,” says Eames.
“You’re always touching it anyway,” pipes Yusuf.
“Or did you not notice, Arthur?” asks Saito, raising his brows.
Arthur looks at him, confused, and says, “But I’m hurting him.”
“You’re not,” says Cobb, “You’re really not.”
“But Ariadne said-“
“Ariadne doesn’t know what she’s talking about, she thinks you’re hurting me but- but I…” he pauses, pulls his hands down into his lap, nails digging into his wrists, “But you’re not, Arthur. It’s the opposite, actually.”
“I don’t-”
“Oh,” says Yusuf, eyes wide, “All those signs…”
“Unbelievable!” chokes out Eames, smothering a laugh behind his hand.
Arthur looks at the both of them, confused. Saito pats him on the back and coughs into his hand. “What I believe Cobb is trying to say is-“
“I used to be collared.”
The whole moment comes to a crashing halt, and everyone just freezes.
Ariadne gives him an encouraging smile.
Cobb takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak. But the words get caught in his throat.
He can’t say anything, and feels a fool for just sitting there with his mouth agape. He touches his throat and looks wide eyed up at Arthur. There’s something in his chest, like a balloon inflating beyond its limit, and he feels like it’s about to burst- he barely registers that he’s panicking through the hitching breaths he takes, unable to breathe properly.
The team watches him, confused and concerned.
Arthur’s fingers flex on his neck, and slowly, as if hesitantly, start to apply pressure.
Like a light switch being flicked, the gesture grounds him and the feeling in his chest deflates. He leans into the touch and closes his eyes.
“Guys, if you could give Cobb and I some time to talk? Take the night off, we can resume work tomorrow morning.”
Arthur’s thumb starts rubbing circles into the side of his neck, and it makes his breath catch, a low moan escaping through his lips.
“Cobb,” breathes Arthur, wet and warm on his ear, “Ssh.”
He shudders under the words and sits perfectly still with his head bow low.
Slowly, almost agonizingly slow, the team leaves. He can feel their eyes on him though he refuses to acknowledge them. The final sound of the warehouse door sliding closed rings through the empty infrastructure, and it echoes in his chest. Now that it’s only him and Arthur, he feels his self control crumbling slightly and he digs his nails harder into his wrists in an attempt to curb it.
Arthur moves to crouch in front of him, hand still heavy on his neck. His other hand touches his face, and Cobb tries not to flinch.
“You want to try and tell me what’s going on?” asks Arthur in a gentle voice.
Cobb hates that Arthur thinks he needs to be treated delicately now. He opens his eyes and glares at Arthur defiantly. “It is what it is,” he rasps, turning his head to clear his throat.
“I think there’s more than that, Cobb. I need to know.”
“You don’t need to know anything,” he snaps, wrenching Arthur’s hand away from him. He clenches his eyes shut at the wave of panic washing over him at their absence. “Just stop touching me.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do,” he says, pushing past Arthur so that he unbalances and falls back. He tries to make a fast getaway, the sound of Arthur scrabbling to stand up loud behind him.
“Cobb, wait, don’t run-”
“I’m not running!” shouts Cobb, picking up the pace, panting.
“Well, could you stop trying to put distance between the two of us!” shouts Arthur, hand grasping his bicep and turning him around.
“Well, could you try and stop being rational and calm and treating me like I’m some sort of deranged-” Cobb freezes at the touch of Arthur’s hands curled around his neck and looks down at Arthur’s arms outstretched in front of him.
“I think I know,” says Arthur, slowly, looking straight at Cobb, eyes boring into his, “what you need. But you have to trust me. Okay? You have to give me some time.” With that, Arthur steps in close, thumbs pressing a bruise into the column of his throat. He kisses Cobb lightly, just a touch, but each time he dips in, he takes it further, goes deeper until his tongue is slicking against Cobb’s.
-
They start the relationship out slow and steady but Arthur no longer curls his fingers around his neck. Instead he uses them to lead Cobb into a kisses by the jaw.
“Does he not want you, love?” asks Eames, a glint in his eyes, while they’re in the break room
“Maybe not in that way,” says Cobb, hand coming up to rub at his neck.
Eames tracks the movement with his eyes and with a smirk, he lifts a hand to chase it.
Someone touches Cobb’s elbow before Eames can complete the gesture though, and Arthur is there behind Cobb, pressed up against him. His hand moves from Cobb’s elbow to wrap fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand away, down, before moving back up to play with the collar of his shirt, sliding underneath to tug at the tie knotted at the hollow of his throat.
“Two can play at that game,” murmurs Arthur, it’s not even spoken low for just Cobb to hear. He’s sure Eames heard it too.
Arthur pulls away, face poker straight, straightens Cobb’s tie, palm smoothing down its length and walks away.
Eames cocks an eyebrow at him. Cobb refuses to blush.
“Maybe in that way.”
-
“From what Eames told me, I guess I didn’t have to worry,” says Yusuf approaching Cobb, eyes looking him over.
Cobb raises both his eyebrows in question, putting down his pencil and sketch pad. “I’m sorry?”
“No need to be,” says Yusuf, taking a seat beside him. “I guess I was just- prepared to, you know.”
Cobb has no idea what Yusuf is talking about, and he thinks it shows on his face because Yusuf is starting to look annoyed and flustered.
“Before I became a chemist, I was a doctor,” says Yusuf, slowly, as if Cobb needed the stuttered speed to make sense of him. “So if you need any... medical help, feel free to come to me.” His eyes flicker down to Cobb’s neck and it dawns on him, what the hell Yusuf is on about.
At first he’s angry at what Yusuf is implying, that Arthur would really hurt him, and then he’s depressed at the fact that Arthur hasn’t done anything like that at all, hasn’t even taken a step towards hurting Cobb physically. Past the self-pity, Cobb sees what Yusuf is saying behind those words and he’s touched.
“Yusuf,” he starts, lifting his head to look the man in the eyes, “Thank you.”
There’s a beat in which there could be more to be said, but he lets it pass because he doesn’t know what else to say.
Yusuf seems to realise that Cobb is a man of few words when it comes to things like these because he smiles brilliantly, hand clapping him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I mean, we’re all friends, right?”
The words remind him of Ariadne, shouting at him in anger, ‘We’re your friends, Cobb, we aren’t ‘normal society’! ’.
“If anything has happened, I’ll be more than happy to help you, Cobb. No questions asked.”
“Thank you,” he says again, voice hoarse. He looks away for a second then turns back to Yusuf. “You mentioned something about Eames earlier.”
“Yes,” says Yusuf, nodding, “You see, I was worried about how your relationship with Arthur would affect your health. But Eames told me not to worry because even though you guys are together, he said you weren’t together in the way we all thought you were.”
“You have to know that Arthur would never hurt me,” says Cobb straight away, and he doesn’t know if he means that Arthur won’t hurt him more than he wants or that Arthur won’t hurt him at all. “Don’t listen to Eames, he just- it’s complicated.” He pauses to think if there’s any other way to describe what’s going on but there isn’t. “But I appreciate the sentiment, Yusuf, I’ll keep it in mind.”
“That’s all I wanted you to do.” Yusuf claps him again on the shoulder and stands up, walking away.
Before Cobb can even pick up his pencil and sketchpad, there’s a touch on his elbow and Arthur is draping himself meticulously on the arm of the sofa.
“What was that all about?” he murmurs, hands straightening out the collar of Cobb’s shirt, fingers dipping into the open slit, dragging against his skin.
Cobb draws a breath through his teeth, willing himself not to react to Arthur’s tease. Even though Arthur hasn’t taken Cobb to bed, hasn’t indulged him in his kinks, he’s gotten to teasing ever since the situation with Eames. It’s not fair that Arthur likes to make it look like he’s claimed Cobb when in actuality he hasn’t.
“He just wants to know if we’re doing okay,” he says, smiling up at Arthur.
“And what did you say?”
“I said we’re doing great.” There’s a split second where Arthur may have tensed, may have caught onto Cobb’s lie, but it was so brief that he can’t be sure before Arthur is pressing a kiss to his temple and moving off.
-
Cobb sends Arthur off with a kiss that makes Arthur’s eyes grow dark, hand lingering over the curve of his ass. He watches Arthur leave through the warehouse’s front door and turns back to his desk. The sounds of footsteps make him pause and he looks up to see Saito thumb his nose.
“Saito,” greets Cobb.
“Cobb,” responds Saito, holding his head high.
“Can I help you?”
Saito steps closer and folds his arms over his chest. “About your blossoming relationship with Arthur-”
“Thank you for your concern, Saito,” cuts Cobb, holding up his hand, “the team has already expressed their concerns to me about our relationship. I assure you that it is going on perfectly.”
“That is good to hear, but it is not what I was going to address,” says Saito, with a small smile, “I would like to extend my congratulations first, and offer training for Arthur to partake as a means of introducing him to the art of bondage.”
Cobb chokes at that, coughing twice in his hand to get over his surprise, looking up at Saito with wide eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“I have many connections in Japan, Cobb, even to the underground arts, so that if you need Arthur to learn, then I am ready to share my resources.”
The image of Saito in the bondage scene is wild in Cobb’s mind and he shakes his head to get rid of it, thoughts warping until it’s Arthur. Arthur with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as his hands make quick, sharp movements in tying the ropes with precision. The thought of Arthur being able to weave lines around his body, tying him tight so that he’s unable to move but only able to squirm and writhe in the bonds makes his cock twitch in the confines of his pants.
“Saito, I- thank you for the offer but I have to decline in Arthur’s place. Let’s just say... we’re not ready to take a step that way yet.”
Saito nods in understanding, hands moving to delve into his pockets. “Well, if anything, do not hesitate to come to me.”
As Cobb nods, ready to thank Saito again, Arthur comes striding back in, “Oh Cobb, I forgot,” he cuts himself off when he sees Saito and raises an eyebrow.
“Arthur,” says Saito, acknowledging him, and then he nods at them both and walks off.
Arthur gets to the desk, hands reaching for the stack of papers to Cobb’s side and gathers it, sliding it into his bag. “What was that all about?” he asks, putting a hand on Cobb’s shoulder, close to his neck.
Cobb turns his head away, not wanting to say. "Saito was just. Offering his congratulations on our relationship."
"Is that all?" Arthur walks around him, capturing his jaw between his finger and thumb. Cobb meets his eyes and smiles, ducking his head slightly.
Arthur smiles back and kisses him, hand moving down his chest to pull his shirt out of his pants, touching the skin of his hip.
"Arthur," breathes Cobb, taking hold of his tie and pulling him closer. They kiss dirty, tongues tangled up wetly with each other, Arthur's hand pressed to the small of his back, the touch hot.
After a few minutes, Arthur takes a step back, panting slightly, “I need- need to go,” he checks his watch and swears.
Cobb just grins when Arthur runs off, willing himself not to think about Arthur tying him up.
-
After their sixth date, Arthur takes them back to his hotel room.
He leads Cobb to the bedroom with kisses, lays him down and prepares him slowly. It’s nice what Arthur’s doing, it makes him gasp and grasp at the sheets in pleasure but it’s not what his body is wanting, not what it’s been expecting since Arthur first laid hand on his neck.
“Ready?” asks Arthur against his neck, slipping his fingers out to roll on a condom.
“Do it,” says Cobb, threading his fingers through Arthur’s hair as he pushes in.
Arthur starts slow, makes sure he’s comfortable before setting out a steady pace, rocking in and out, fingers wrapping around his cock. He moans at the touch, revels in the fact that this is Arthur fucking him like a gentle lover, that he’s real and not just a figment of induced dreams.
When Arthur comes, Cobb is still hard, knees squeezing his hips, feet pressed against the small of his back.
“Come on,” says Arthur, stroking faster, “come on, Dom.”
Cobb groans low in his throat, arching back his head, “Arthur. Arthur.” His hands shifts everywhere, from the sheets, to the headboard, to the pillow, twisting and grappling until he gets a hand on his own neck, nails digging into skin and dragging red lines down the column of his throat, down his chest.
Arthur seems to freeze for a second before pulling out. Cobb’s left confused and flustered until Arthur pushes two fingers in and slides his hand from Cobb’s cock to his neck, pushing down. “Come for me.”
He gasps through the bruising force and shoots white all over his stomach.
-
“Cobb, your throat,” says Ariadne, circling the desk, and standing in front of him.
“It’s nothing,” he says, holding the collar of his shirt together, trying to look like he’s unaffected by her attention but the truth is, just knowing that the others can see the bruise makes him hard.
“It looks like it hurts.”
It does.
“It doesn’t. Ariadne, I’ve already said-“
“I know,” says Ariadne, pulling the tie hanging from his knee to loop it under his collar, “but I worry all the same.”
Cobb puts his hands in his lap as Ariadne buttons up his shirt, lingering briefly on the button at his neck. “You’re very mother-hennish, aren’t you?”
She smiles, adjusting the length of the tie before starting. “I can’t help it. Believe it or not, I grew up in a family of six. Being the second eldest, it was my job to look after my siblings while my parents and older sister worked.”
“You know that we’re all grown men, right?”
“I know,” repeats Ariadne, ducking her head with an embarrassed smile before finishing the knot and smoothing it out. “There, done.”
“Are you ready, Cobb?” asks Arthur, walking over, wearing a coat over his suit with a briefcase in one hand, another coat in the other.
“Yeah,” says Cobb, accepting the coat Arthur hands him. “Thanks, Ariadne.”
Ariadne just smiles wordlessly, giving a small shrug and gets up to walk away. When she’s at a good distance, Arthur sighs softly and sets down his briefcase, fingers unknotting Cobb’s tie. “Honestly, you should have told her to tie a Pratt knot and not a double Windsor, Dom.”
Cobb doesn’t say anything, just smiles as Arthur pulls his tie free. He starts to get unnerved though, when Arthur starts undoing the top buttons of his shirt.
“Arthur,” he says, trying to step back, but Arthur makes a sharp sound that makes him halt. Fingers touch the bruise decorating his neck, almost caressing them while the thumb applies just the slightest pressure.
“Arthur,” he repeats and this time his voice is rough.
His heart skips a beat when Arthur’s head drops to his chest, forehead against his collarbone. His hands come up to the sides of Arthur’s head, scared, and that’s when he hears Arthur murmuring.
“Sorry,” says Arthur into the fabric of his shirt. “I’m not doing it right.”
Cobb’s confused, he’s not sure what Arthur’s talking about. “Arthur?”
“Yesterday,” says Arthur, “yesterday wasn’t right, but.”
So that’s what Arthur’s on about. Cobb shakes his head, opens his mouth to protest but Arthur grabs his hand and presses a kiss to his knuckles. “But give me a few more days, Dom. A few more days and I’ll do it right.” He looks up at Cobb, determination in his eyes, and Cobb nods, closing his mouth.
Arthur smiles wide at him and buttons back his shirt, fingers turning his tie inside out before deftly looping it into a perfect Pratt knot. He tightens it more than usual so that it cuts just the slightest into Cobb’s neck.
If he notices, he doesn’t fix it.
-
Four days later, at a quarter to seven, Arthur comes up to his side and says, “When everyone has left the warehouse, I want you to kneel by my desk and wait for me. Got it?”
Cobb turns to question him but at Arthur’s raised eyebrow, he keeps his mouth shut and nods. Arthur runs a hand up the curve of his shoulder to squeeze his neck gently before turning away towards Saito.
The gesture shocks him as much as the jolt of arousal and he’s left to lean against his desk, hands clutching the edge.
He shakes with anticipation.
This is the first time Arthur’s given him an order and his body is more than willing to comply. He watches Arthur eagerly from the corner of his eyes; making his rounds as he chats to everyone to keep up with their progress, offering feedback and telling them to pack up for the day. One by one he sees everyone leave; Saito, Yusuf, Ariadne then Eames, until Arthur walks past him, giving him a slight glance before disappearing into another room.
That’s when Cobb moves, abandoning his work to walk to Arthur’s desk. He fingers the flaking varnish at the corner before removing his jacket and draping it over the back of the chair tucked under the desk. With a deep breath, he drops to his knees, head bowed and hands by his side.
He waits, the cold seeping from the ground to the bone of his knees, the pain numbing the longer he stays in position. His neck feels like he needs to give it a good stretch to hear it crack, but he doesn’t. He stays absolutely still because this is what Arthur wants.
Time seems to go by slowly while his body thrums with excitement; he’s already half-hard. He doesn’t know how long he’s been kneeling, mind drifting off, and he doesn’t even realise that Arthur is in front of him until his hand touches his head.
“Dom,” says Arthur, threading fingers through his hair, fisting it so that he can pull Cobb’s head back.
Arthur smiles warmly down at him and crouches down, meeting him eye to eye. “I’ve got something for you.”
Cobb raises his eyebrows in surprise as Arthur reaches for the black box on the desk. He doesn’t say anything as he holds it up with one hand, the other lifting the lid to reveal gold satin lining with a black collar lying in the centre, about an inch wide, in leather with a single D ring at the front.
He bites his bottom lip and looks up at Arthur, questioning.
“If we do this, Dom, if you become my sub,” says Arthur, looking at him intently, “it will be whenever you have the collar on. You’ll obey my every command and know that everything that you are, all of you, belong to me. I… know that some have open relationships for this but I’m willing to dedicate myself to you even when you don’t have the collar on and I’m hoping you will do the same for me.
“I’m also aware that I don’t have any prior experience at this but I am open to negotiating our relationship through our time together and if at any time, for any reason, you want out, you just tell me, and I’ll let you go, no questions asked. Do you understand? Do you trust and allow me to take care of you?”
Cobb’s eyes fall shut underneath Arthur’s hand.
“Yes,” he says, “Yes, I trust you to be my Dom, Arthur, I accept your conditions.”
All the tension melts out of Arthur’s body at Cobb’s words and his expression softens.
“Thank you,” he says, leaning in to give Cobb a kiss. When he pulls away, he pats Cobb’s cheek and asks, “Do you have a safe word?”
“Lightning,” says Cobb, watching Arthur set the box down and lifting the collar out.
“Lightning,” repeats Arthur, nodding, “okay- okay,” he removes the padlock from the back of it, unclasping it so it opens, “so- I got you a locking collar,” he explains, wrapping the leather around Cobb’s throat, “so that if. If you ever wanted to give yourself completely to me, then all we have to do is lock it and you’ll trust that anything I do to you is for you.”
Arthur loops the collar around his throat and it’s just the right fit, the butter soft interior hugs the circumference of his neck. A feeling of calm washes over Cobb and he leans in Arthur’s touch as he clasps closed.
“Just know that I’ll always have the key with me when you’re ready,” says Arthur, getting up and stepping back.
The distance between them seems to shift the atmosphere
Cobb watches Arthur stand back, eyes raking over his body like a promise and it makes him shiver.
Arthur quirks a little smile at him, “Is that all right? Did I leave anything out?”
“You did good,” says Cobb, fingers coming up to touch his collar, “I’m surprised. What- what should I call you? Master?”
“You know I always do my research, Arthur is just fine,” says Arthur, and he flicks his hand up, “stand, Dom.”
Cobb stands up at the order, legs weak from all the kneeling.
“Follow,” instructs Arthur, walking off and Cobb does, trying to shake the ache out of his legs as best he can as they move.
They weave through the warehouse, stopping at an out of the way corner that Cobb recognises as Arthur’s little sleeping nook for all the times he doesn’t bother coming back to the hotel. There are things distinctly Arthur there; neatly arranged snacks, piles of notes, documents, photocopies, sketches, a spare suit that’s been bagged for protection and hanging above the head of the mattress, a spare magazine already loaded with 9x19 cartridges sitting beside an empty water bottle.
“Clothes off and lie down,” says Arthur and Cobb’s fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before Arthur has even finished talking.
Arthur doesn’t move to help, just stands there and watches Cobb undress, taking in every movement. He keeps watching even when Cobb is completely naked and positioning himself on the bed; head on the pillow, arms by his side with his legs spread just the slightest. Cobb feels his cock twitch under Arthur’s gaze and coughs into the silence, embarrassed and aroused.
They stay like that for a while, Arthur just keeps looking and Cobb tries not to fidget under his scrutiny, feeling restless, feeling exposed.
“You’re so beautiful,” says Arthur, then, breaking the quiet. The sounds of him stripping; kicking off his shoes, undoing his vest, unknotting his tie is loud in Cobb’s ears. “Just with my collar around your neck- fuck, Dom.”
Dressed in just his shirt and slacks, Arthur makes his way onto the bed, spooning behind Cobb, one arm slung low around his hips and the other playing with clasp of the collar.
“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he whispers into Cobb’s nape, pressing a kiss below the leather.
Cobb shivers at the touch, at the words. He doesn’t turn around to Arthur, even though he wants to. Instead he catches the hand at his hip and threads their fingers together, hoping that Arthur will understand what he wants to say; how appreciative, how grateful, how happy he is.
The squeeze in return is answer enough.