(no subject)
So foxxcub made the mistake of making a post about Tom Hardy being in the next Batman movie and something about Catwoman and of course my mind went directly to Arhur being Catwoman and Eames being Batman. Lets just say, it got a little out of hand after that.
Title: The Prowl
Author: trippypeas
Fandom: Inception
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
NOTES:I don't own anything. The Great and Powerful Mr.Nolan is the boss around these parts. Also many thanks to
ohfreckle and wishfulclicking for being really excited about this.
Summary: The Cat smirks, dark eyes sparkling, tongue tracing his lips, leaving them shiny and pink. "Good evening Mr. Eames. I'm here to rob you."
Eames' eyes flash open, hands twisting in the sheets to stop from reacting.
The Cat smirks, dark eyes sparkling, tongue tracing his lips, leaving them shiny and pink. "Good evening Mr. Eames. I'm here to rob you."
"And what makes you so certain of that?"
The man laughs, head thrown back, long pale neck in the light from the moon.
"It didn't take much to get in. And you aren't putting up much of a fight." He sits back on Eames' thighs, reaching into his belt and pulls out a pair of hand cuffs.
"Now be a good boy and sit still while I clean you out." He purrs and quick fingers work as he snaps a cuff around Eames' wrist and one around a slat in the head board.
He moves quickly. He doesn't look for anything, he pulls drawers open with ease and efficiency. He knew what he was coming for. He stops occasionally to study a cuff link or shuffle papers aside, but never longer than a moment.
Eames watches quietly, there's no point in making a fuss, he can replace whatever it is, but it's a rare moment to watch a professional at work.
He doesn't say anything until The Cat lifts a small white box from his sock drawer. It rattles with the loose pearls of his mother's necklace.
"Leave that will you, love? Sentimental value and all."
The Cat lifts an eyebrow in question before peeking inside. The pearls roll smoothly as he shifts the box. He glances at Eames, he must see something there, as he silently places it back in the drawer.
He finishes shortly after that. The Cat cinches his bag shut and pulls it through the loop in his belt.
"All done, darling? Gonna leave with out a goodbye?" Eames asks, rattling his hand cuff against the head board with a smile.
"Don't you worry, I'm sure I'll be back soon." The Cat grins and moves to the window. He winks and tosses something small and silver on the bed. "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames."
The curtain whips with the wind and he's gone.
Eames spends about 15 minutes sitting in the dark of his room before charging down the stairs slapping a hand against Yusuf's door to alert him of his need.
It takes Yusuf 10 more minutes to stumble blearily down to the lair with 2 cups of coffee and Eames is already typing furiously away at the computer.
"Tell me Yusuf," as he swings around to face his friend, "What do you know about The Cat?"
Yusuf scrubs at his face, "That depends. What do you want to know about The Cat?"
"Well for one, How he managed to break in and hand cuff me to the bed." Yusuf's eyebrows shoot up, "And two, Is he seeing anyone?"
*
It takes everything in Eames not to bolt from this party. It’s all old money loitering around in suits and diamonds, smoking cigars and chattering about The New Boat, The New House, The New Car, and in some instances The New Wife.
He sticks to the walls, turning down drinks and smoke to hide in dark corners. He’s here tonight for some reconnaissance. A little planning ahead never hurt anyone, especially if he’s supposed to stop it.
Last week he arrived in time for Constable Cobb to smirk in a strange mixture of amusement and disapproval as he handed over a folded piece of thick crisp cream colored card stock.
The Cat had left him a rather charming note in the place of Mrs. Astor’s favorite Renoir, hinting that he’d be stopping by to this evening’s event.
He knows he looks nonchalant, bored even. But his eyes are sharp and he takes in every shadow and ripple in the curtains.
And there, slinking silky smooth, on the other side of the room is a man with dark eyes and a pale white neck and pure white cuffs. He’s dressed for the occasion, dark stylish suit, hair slicked back and he is beautiful. Clean lines and smile sharp like a blade.
The man waves away a butler, champagne in hand but not touched. He surveys the room quietly, eyes flitting over paintings and figurines almost disinterestedly before falling on him.
He smirks and it sparks something in Eames’ spine. The man moves around the room, stopping here and there to shake a hand or smile politely at some old woman. Eames makes no effort to move, just sips his drink and waits.
“Good evening.:.” The man smiles as he sticks out a hand in greeting. The hand shake is firm and quick, decisive. Eames likes him already.
“Jack Eames.”
The man smiled again, wider this time, and he has dimples, soft sweet indents in his cheeks.
He sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking on his toes. “Arthur.”
“Arthur? Arthur who?” Eames asks grinning and watching Arthur’s smile grow.
He smoothed his tie down in an effort to not reach out and touch.
“I think Arthur will do just fine for now.”
“Shall I show you around Arthur? I’ll have you know this home has a beautiful collection of art. Mr. Saito is fond of post war British artists.” He presents his elbow and gestures to the house as a whole with his left hand.
Arthur loops his arm with Eames and rests other hand on Eames’ bicep. Eames tries not to flex.
“I’ve been waiting all night. Wouldn’t do for me to prowl about all on my own.”
*
It’s not hard really to corner The Cat. The Cat seems all to pleased to let Eames know where he’ll be next.
He doesn’t have any height on the man but he is some what bulkier and uses that to his advantage. He corrals the dark haired man into a corner, looming into his space.
The Cat smirks with superiority but there is something like nervousness in his dark eyes.
“My dear Cat,” Eames growls into his ear, “You are a rather hard man to catch.”
“I make it my business not to be caught.” The Cat drags his fingers down the dark kevlar to Eames’ belt. “I guess I’m going to have to step up my game, Mr.Bat.”
Eames catches his wrist and presses it to the wall above his head. He shifts his hips so that they pin the other man in and traces the edge of the black mask on The Cat’s face. He jerks his head away with a hiss and jabs a bony elbow into Eames’ stomach.
“Mask stays on. Can’t have one without the other. That’s cheating, Mr. Bat.”
He nods once hand smoothing down his face to cup the man’s cheek pressing his lips against the corner of that mouth. That mouth has been haunting him since that first night.
He drags his thumb against The Cat’s lower lip, pressing to see it turn red under his finger before returning. The mouth opens against his, tongue fluttering out to wet lips and he presses the other man against the wall.
They kiss for what feels like forever there in that dark corner of the house before a long leg slips between his thighs and hips rock up against him. He breaks the kiss with a groan and that mouth turns up in a vicious grin. A hand reaches down to cup his erection, stroking.
“Does this suit come off? Or am I just gonna have to make you come in it?” It’s meant to be confident but the words are breathy in his ear.
“That depends,” He wraps a hand around a hip, thumb pressing hard into the bone and he grinds his hips against The Cat’s. “Does yours ever come off?”
He drags his free hand down to hitch the other man’s leg up, hand cupping his ass to lift him from the floor. The Cat groans and drags his nails up Eames’ back. “It’s not fair,” he huffs into Eames’ ear. “ I’d hate to leave you with out any reminder. Your suit isn’t made for sex.” Eames picks up the pace, swiveling his hips working their erections together through the clothe of their suits.
He feels it coming, like a train speeding down the tracks with The Cat’s heavy panting in his ear as his only warning. The other man twists and writhes, trapped between Eames and a hard place, back arching and pale neck pink from exertion, red mouth open as he moans. The Cat swears “Jesus Fuck!” and goes stock still, finally coming against Eames. He muffles his groans into The Cat’s neck as he shakes through his orgasm, legs going weak as he slides down to the floor with the other man panting in his lap.
The Cat bites at his lip, eyes sleepy and sated behind his mask. Eames scratches his fingers through dark curls tugging a little to hear the rumble of a purr. The other man presses his fingers to Eames’ face, caging him in to press a hard kiss to his mouth. A tongue slides against his lips before he’s pushed back, away roughly.
The Cat rises languidly on to his feet astride Eames on the floor. He stretches and Eames watches the pull and stretch of muscle under tight black Lycra. He rolls his neck and runs a hand through his hair. He presses a foot up against the wet spot in Eames suit with a wicked grin and palms at himself before darting out from between Eames’ legs and across the room in a flash.
He’s at the door before Eames can gather his sense to move, he shoots him a grin and a wink, “Same Bat time. Same Bat channel.” And he’s out the door in a flash.
Title: The Prowl
Author: trippypeas
Fandom: Inception
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
NOTES:I don't own anything. The Great and Powerful Mr.Nolan is the boss around these parts. Also many thanks to
ohfreckle and wishfulclicking for being really excited about this.
Summary: The Cat smirks, dark eyes sparkling, tongue tracing his lips, leaving them shiny and pink. "Good evening Mr. Eames. I'm here to rob you."
Eames' eyes flash open, hands twisting in the sheets to stop from reacting.
The Cat smirks, dark eyes sparkling, tongue tracing his lips, leaving them shiny and pink. "Good evening Mr. Eames. I'm here to rob you."
"And what makes you so certain of that?"
The man laughs, head thrown back, long pale neck in the light from the moon.
"It didn't take much to get in. And you aren't putting up much of a fight." He sits back on Eames' thighs, reaching into his belt and pulls out a pair of hand cuffs.
"Now be a good boy and sit still while I clean you out." He purrs and quick fingers work as he snaps a cuff around Eames' wrist and one around a slat in the head board.
He moves quickly. He doesn't look for anything, he pulls drawers open with ease and efficiency. He knew what he was coming for. He stops occasionally to study a cuff link or shuffle papers aside, but never longer than a moment.
Eames watches quietly, there's no point in making a fuss, he can replace whatever it is, but it's a rare moment to watch a professional at work.
He doesn't say anything until The Cat lifts a small white box from his sock drawer. It rattles with the loose pearls of his mother's necklace.
"Leave that will you, love? Sentimental value and all."
The Cat lifts an eyebrow in question before peeking inside. The pearls roll smoothly as he shifts the box. He glances at Eames, he must see something there, as he silently places it back in the drawer.
He finishes shortly after that. The Cat cinches his bag shut and pulls it through the loop in his belt.
"All done, darling? Gonna leave with out a goodbye?" Eames asks, rattling his hand cuff against the head board with a smile.
"Don't you worry, I'm sure I'll be back soon." The Cat grins and moves to the window. He winks and tosses something small and silver on the bed. "Go to sleep, Mr. Eames."
The curtain whips with the wind and he's gone.
Eames spends about 15 minutes sitting in the dark of his room before charging down the stairs slapping a hand against Yusuf's door to alert him of his need.
It takes Yusuf 10 more minutes to stumble blearily down to the lair with 2 cups of coffee and Eames is already typing furiously away at the computer.
"Tell me Yusuf," as he swings around to face his friend, "What do you know about The Cat?"
Yusuf scrubs at his face, "That depends. What do you want to know about The Cat?"
"Well for one, How he managed to break in and hand cuff me to the bed." Yusuf's eyebrows shoot up, "And two, Is he seeing anyone?"
*
It takes everything in Eames not to bolt from this party. It’s all old money loitering around in suits and diamonds, smoking cigars and chattering about The New Boat, The New House, The New Car, and in some instances The New Wife.
He sticks to the walls, turning down drinks and smoke to hide in dark corners. He’s here tonight for some reconnaissance. A little planning ahead never hurt anyone, especially if he’s supposed to stop it.
Last week he arrived in time for Constable Cobb to smirk in a strange mixture of amusement and disapproval as he handed over a folded piece of thick crisp cream colored card stock.
The Cat had left him a rather charming note in the place of Mrs. Astor’s favorite Renoir, hinting that he’d be stopping by to this evening’s event.
He knows he looks nonchalant, bored even. But his eyes are sharp and he takes in every shadow and ripple in the curtains.
And there, slinking silky smooth, on the other side of the room is a man with dark eyes and a pale white neck and pure white cuffs. He’s dressed for the occasion, dark stylish suit, hair slicked back and he is beautiful. Clean lines and smile sharp like a blade.
The man waves away a butler, champagne in hand but not touched. He surveys the room quietly, eyes flitting over paintings and figurines almost disinterestedly before falling on him.
He smirks and it sparks something in Eames’ spine. The man moves around the room, stopping here and there to shake a hand or smile politely at some old woman. Eames makes no effort to move, just sips his drink and waits.
“Good evening.:.” The man smiles as he sticks out a hand in greeting. The hand shake is firm and quick, decisive. Eames likes him already.
“Jack Eames.”
The man smiled again, wider this time, and he has dimples, soft sweet indents in his cheeks.
He sticks his hands in his pockets, rocking on his toes. “Arthur.”
“Arthur? Arthur who?” Eames asks grinning and watching Arthur’s smile grow.
He smoothed his tie down in an effort to not reach out and touch.
“I think Arthur will do just fine for now.”
“Shall I show you around Arthur? I’ll have you know this home has a beautiful collection of art. Mr. Saito is fond of post war British artists.” He presents his elbow and gestures to the house as a whole with his left hand.
Arthur loops his arm with Eames and rests other hand on Eames’ bicep. Eames tries not to flex.
“I’ve been waiting all night. Wouldn’t do for me to prowl about all on my own.”
*
It’s not hard really to corner The Cat. The Cat seems all to pleased to let Eames know where he’ll be next.
He doesn’t have any height on the man but he is some what bulkier and uses that to his advantage. He corrals the dark haired man into a corner, looming into his space.
The Cat smirks with superiority but there is something like nervousness in his dark eyes.
“My dear Cat,” Eames growls into his ear, “You are a rather hard man to catch.”
“I make it my business not to be caught.” The Cat drags his fingers down the dark kevlar to Eames’ belt. “I guess I’m going to have to step up my game, Mr.Bat.”
Eames catches his wrist and presses it to the wall above his head. He shifts his hips so that they pin the other man in and traces the edge of the black mask on The Cat’s face. He jerks his head away with a hiss and jabs a bony elbow into Eames’ stomach.
“Mask stays on. Can’t have one without the other. That’s cheating, Mr. Bat.”
He nods once hand smoothing down his face to cup the man’s cheek pressing his lips against the corner of that mouth. That mouth has been haunting him since that first night.
He drags his thumb against The Cat’s lower lip, pressing to see it turn red under his finger before returning. The mouth opens against his, tongue fluttering out to wet lips and he presses the other man against the wall.
They kiss for what feels like forever there in that dark corner of the house before a long leg slips between his thighs and hips rock up against him. He breaks the kiss with a groan and that mouth turns up in a vicious grin. A hand reaches down to cup his erection, stroking.
“Does this suit come off? Or am I just gonna have to make you come in it?” It’s meant to be confident but the words are breathy in his ear.
“That depends,” He wraps a hand around a hip, thumb pressing hard into the bone and he grinds his hips against The Cat’s. “Does yours ever come off?”
He drags his free hand down to hitch the other man’s leg up, hand cupping his ass to lift him from the floor. The Cat groans and drags his nails up Eames’ back. “It’s not fair,” he huffs into Eames’ ear. “ I’d hate to leave you with out any reminder. Your suit isn’t made for sex.” Eames picks up the pace, swiveling his hips working their erections together through the clothe of their suits.
He feels it coming, like a train speeding down the tracks with The Cat’s heavy panting in his ear as his only warning. The other man twists and writhes, trapped between Eames and a hard place, back arching and pale neck pink from exertion, red mouth open as he moans. The Cat swears “Jesus Fuck!” and goes stock still, finally coming against Eames. He muffles his groans into The Cat’s neck as he shakes through his orgasm, legs going weak as he slides down to the floor with the other man panting in his lap.
The Cat bites at his lip, eyes sleepy and sated behind his mask. Eames scratches his fingers through dark curls tugging a little to hear the rumble of a purr. The other man presses his fingers to Eames’ face, caging him in to press a hard kiss to his mouth. A tongue slides against his lips before he’s pushed back, away roughly.
The Cat rises languidly on to his feet astride Eames on the floor. He stretches and Eames watches the pull and stretch of muscle under tight black Lycra. He rolls his neck and runs a hand through his hair. He presses a foot up against the wet spot in Eames suit with a wicked grin and palms at himself before darting out from between Eames’ legs and across the room in a flash.
He’s at the door before Eames can gather his sense to move, he shoots him a grin and a wink, “Same Bat time. Same Bat channel.” And he’s out the door in a flash.