Written for the Inception Kink Meme. The original prompt: I can't find it – but it's there somewhere. This is basically, Eames/Arthur, Maid Costume Kink. Arthur is in the costume as a result of a bet gone horribly wrong.
A Bet is a Bet, But Sometimes a Maid is More.
It was a bet, a stupid bet!
Why did he have to agree to any of this!
Arthur felt humiliated! He was standing, awkwardly, embarrassed, in front of Eames, trying to manoeuvre the (limited) black and white fabric he wore.
"Well, oh la la, Darling"
Arthur glared. Then spun around and reached up, in true maid fashion, to dust the highest shelf in Eames apartment. He ignored the way it pulled the fabric up to reveal more leg, he ignored everything. Perhaps if he just focussed on acting like an ordinary maid he could ignore the fact he was dressed to be a slutty French one!
Arthur could ignore the fact he was sobbing a little bit inside of his head.
He could ignore the way he could hear Eames moving up behind him, the heat coming from his body which told him he was standing right behind him, the hand reaching right past his face, gracing his cheek, to take a book of the shelf.
He could ignore the hand accidentally dropping the book half way to its destination. He could. He could.
Then a hand settled on his hips (the slinky, lacy dress he wore proving he had them) and a smug English voice said
"well, sweetheart, are you just going to ignore that?"
He had to bend to reach it, the hand on his waist forcing him to bend from the waist not the knees as he would have liked to and forcing his barely covered arse to rub against Eames front. His hard, slightly tented front.
Arthur leap away, managing to grab the book mid movement (hey, he may be in a dress but that doesn't mean he wasn't pure ninja) and, in absence of all else, held it out in front of him to use as a weapon.
He is extremely offended when Eames laughs. He once killed a man with a book.
His glare makes Eames chuckle and say "Don't pout, Darling, it can't be a surprise, I mean, you wore the panties."
Arthur's glare turns up a notch. He only wore the panties because his boxers would show and they were yellow today and it clashed with the red detail of the dress.
"Arthur, Love," he said as he neared, chuckling "Why don't you organise my desk, yeah?"
Arthur cast him a nervous, wary glance at Eames before turning around and picking up some pencils and pens, and putting them back in the holder, looking over his shoulder at Eames every once in a while. When everything was orderly and neat Eames advanced, he pulled Arthur back by a hand, just above his groin (he felt the shudder that travelled through Arthur's body at a hand so close to his hardening cock) and said "Darling, you're doing it wrong, here".
In a wide ark he swept his arm across the desk, shoving all of the stuff on top onto the floor in a racket of noise. Arthur is incensed, but just as he is going to berate Eames a hand is slipped under his dress and begins to stroke his dick.
He can't help but moan, and move forward into the strokes. Arthur has always been ridiculously sensitive to touch, especially pleasurable touch and Eames knows exactly where to rub to give to most pleasure to him. The hand continues its rhythmic motion as Arthur is pushed onto the desk. He knows his ass is sticking out from the tiny skirt of the costume like he was presenting himself, but the hand kept on bringing the waves of pleasure and he cannot bring himself to care.
He can feel another hand rubbing the silk and lace of his black underwear and the thought they must have been ruined by the stain of his pre-come rises half formed from his pleasure addled mind. They are tugged down to rest beneath the swell of his lily white ass as Eames's appreciative moans marinated the air like perfume. Arthur is so hard, so desperate for just a bit more!
When Eames touches his arse he cannot help but say "Oh, God, please Sean, please, just fuck me!"
He knows Eames loves it when he acts needy, so he moans and writhes on his hands and pretends to himself the reaction is feigned. He thinks he has won when Eames pulls down the panties and detangles them from the ridiculous heels he has been forced to wear, but instead they are shoved in his mouth and the firm statement that 'hired help does not speak' is spoken to the beat of Eames's hand on his cock. It barely reaches his brain through the feeling but the gag tastes of his pre-come and does stop him from talking.
Eames is pushing lube coated fingers into his ass now, and he can't help but push back against them, even if it does produce those dirty chuckles from Eames. He refuses to call him Sean when the man is being such a lech!
Then he brushes up against something inside of him that makes Arthurs knees weaken and he doesn't care what Eames does as long as it includes that hand movement.
But soon the fingers are gone and Eames is pushing his cock into Arthur. It is blunt and hard, but the preparation is enough and soon he is moving desperately back into Eames's measured thrusts as he tries to rationalise his arousal at Eames's dirty talk to himself.
It doesn't work.
And pleasure streaks up his spine at every calculated push until he is begging through his gag and Eames has finally lost control and is rutting into him like an animal. He hits Arthur's prostate every time and the younger man is soon seconds away from coming, a twist from the wrist in the middle of a stroke on Arthurs abandoned penis is enough to topple him over the edge.
Eames quickly follows, pouring himself into Arthur with a bellow of his name. Arthur is flattered but still pushes Eames out of himself and twists onto his back, Eames still managing to remain between his splayed legs – the pervert. He pulls the improvised panties gag out of his mouth with a disgusted look and says in his best accent. He doesn't think Eames knows French.
"Merci beaucoup, monsieur Eames, c'est très bon pour moi mais je pense vôtre technique fait défait."
"Well, Darling, I think I have a nurses uniform, if you'd like to do it again."
He was right. The dumbass.