Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from the movie Inception, those are purely from the genius mind of Christopher Nolan; I'm just borrowing them for a little while. I hope you enjoy the story and reviews are always appreciated.
-Libby :)
Tilt
It takes all she has not to gasp when she wakes up. She fumbles for her Bishop. Her breathing only slows when she feels its heavy weight in her palm. She wants (needs) to see it tip over to make sure she's actually awake. In the dreams, the chess piece tilts, but never falls all the way, like how children make their soda cans tilt at lunch when there's just the right amount of liquid left. She can't test the token out though, it will attract too much attention, and she can't afford to be recognized by Fischer, even in that fleeting, déja vu, kind of way. So, she must be content to simply hold her token until they land.
Dom gets off the plane and out of their lives as fast as possible and Ariadne is left with Eames, Arthur, and Yousuf. They decide to get a hotel room so that they can talk everything out. Yousuf makes it to the taxis outside before he decides he needs to go back home, back to his patients underneath his office. Eames, Arthur, and Ariadne are left and she wonders how long it will be before the team is down to one.
Eames buys them all a round of shots. Ariadne doesn't even sniff the glass before she tilts her head and chugs the drink. She coughs for a moment, but feels instantly better. They still haven't talked about anything, and Ariadne thinks (hopes) they're both crawling out of their skins too.
Arthur is still beautiful and cold, his outfit perfectly pressed and razor sharp. Eames still jokes and teases, but his eyes soften whenever Ariadne catches them.
She's not sure who made the executive decision not to talk about it (Dom?), but after three more tequila shots (she should have known) she can't hold it in any longer. A single sob escapes her lips, and before she knows it, her carefully constructed façade is breaking, like the mirror she created in Dom's dream, during her second attempt at dream sharing.
Arthur looks at Eames, unsure of what to do for once, but then emotions were never his strong suit.
Eames quickly gathers her up and carries her toward the door. She can hear the club music blaring as soon as they step outside, but she's focusing on trying to keep it together for as long as possible, at least until they reach the safety of the hotel rooms.
Ariadne can't tell if Arthur is following them or not; she hopes so. She needs both of them to be there; only they understand what she's going through.
It isn't until Eames gently places her on the comfortable bed that she knows it's finally safe to let go. Eames spends the better part of an hour rubbing her back and cooing softly in her ear and she (almost) feels better. Arthur doesn't say a word, just watches her carefully, a worried look on his face.
"Come on luv, will you tell us what's eating you?" Eames finally asks when Ariadne seems to calm down. She's staring blankly with no expression on her face, but it's really her dead eyes that worry him. He hasn't known her long, but he knows one of the components that make her up are her deep, expressive eyes.
Eames keeps gently talking to her, but is getting no reaction. He's actually quite shocked when Arthur jumps up and smacks her smartly across the cheek.
Ariadne startles, and before Eames can punch him, Ariadne grabs Arthur in a tight hug.
"What happened to us? What happened in there?" She asks desperately. Arthur squeezes her and takes a step back to look at her.
"We were very close to being trapped in limbo." He says. Ariadne nods her head as if this is the answer she was looking for. Then she does something that shocks all (none) of them. She grabs Arthur by his perfectly pressed tie and kisses him hard on the mouth.
Surprisingly, or maybe not so, Arthur takes control of the situation and he's not sweet or tender. His kiss is rough and demanding, his hands clawing at her hair, ripping her shirt off. The Point Man is always so reserved and controlled; sometimes he needs a release.
Eames watches for a few minutes before removing his shirt and coming to stand directly behind Ariadne. He pulls her to his chest; time stops. Ariadne can feel his muscular chest and hot skin, but it's his smell that sends her careening over the edge. He smells like sweat and skin and a hint of something else, dirt maybe? It's distinctly masculine. Arthur smells like fancy soaps, and between the two of them she acknowledges the beautiful dichotomy. She doesn't have to choose, she can have both of them.
Ariadne leans her neck back, letting Eames gently nip and suck on her collarbone while Arthur tongues her nipples. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined this. Just when she thinks this moment can't be any more sensual, Arthur stands up, grabs Eames by the back of the neck and kisses him. A surge of heat shoots to Ariadne's core and she moans, loudly.
"Like that Princess?" Eames asks, his accent sending a gush of wetness straight into her panties, "you should have been around during our first year of jobs together." Ariadne looks at Arthur, astounded, and is rewarded with a wink.
She looses control after that, and lets the two men worship her body. She's not sure when they switch, but suddenly Eames is standing in front of her and she can feel his soft lips under hers. He catches her off guard with a sharp bite, and she can't believe she's not dreaming.
Eames pulls her with him as he flops onto the bed. Ariadne strips off his khakis, not at all surprised that the cocky Brit goes commando. She is surprised however, when she feels Arthur's fingers and tongue inside of her. This is a game she's never played before and she can't be more excited to try something new. She leans down and takes Eames' beautiful cock in her mouth, smiling devilishly when he screams out "Fuck!"
He's already so turned on that it doesn't take long for her to bring him over the edge. He shouts delectable, dirty, British slang words when he comes. And suddenly, she's on the bed with Arthur's tongue in her mouth and Eames' tongue down below. She can taste herself in Arthur's mouth and she kind of likes how she tastes. Arthur moans when she takes two of his fingers and sucks her juices off of them, hard. Eames catches her eye and smirks at her while redoubling his efforts until Ariadne can see nothing but stars.
As soon as she recovers, she's on her knees on the bed, beckoning both men to join her. Eames and Arthur share a private glance and Ariadne wonders what it means. It's clear enough when they approach her, Arthur kneeling behind her while Eames is in front of her.
She's not nervous that Arthur is going into virgin territory. She knows he will never hurt her. She suddenly feels warm lube around her tight hole and she wonders where he got the lube, do they keep it around "just in case?" Arthur is slowly inserting a finger and she cries out from the new sensation. Eames catches her cries in his delicious mouth. Eames is fingering her while Arthur is preparing her other hole, and Ariadne can't think straight. There is too much stimuli, her body is going into sensory overload. She barely has time to register Arthur's missing digits when she's plowed into from behind and the front all at once. This time, she manages to scream.
"Oh my God!" she cries out. Eames can't even joke back because he's engulfed in the most wonderful sensations he's felt in a very long time. Arthur is nearly catatonic.
Slowly, the two men start moving inside of her, and she feels more full and complete than she's ever felt before. Is this love? Or just the most intense and amazing sex she's ever had?
None of the threesome last long, and as Ariadne's body clenches with her orgasm, she drags the two men with her.
When she regains consciousness, she realizes she's never been more sated. Both men have their arms around her and all of their legs are in a tangled heap on the bed. She kisses both of them lightly on the mouth and they smile gently in their sleep. She doesn't want to be anywhere but in this moment. After a few minutes she is overcome with exhaustion and drifts off to sleep.
She awakens organically, which rarely happens anymore. She can't recall if she dreamt or not. Two sets of eyes are watching her as she stretches, popping the joints in her neck and back. She turns and smiles at Eames and Arthur before opening her mouth and saying what she's been thinking for weeks now, "I just can't tell what's real and what's a dream anymore." Eames and Arthur look at her, but Arthur is the one who speaks, taking the words out of Eames' mouth.
"Does it matter?" Ariadne takes a deep breath and decides (realizes) that it doesn't. She places the metal bishop on the table and tips it. Eames pulls her to him and crushes her mouth with a kiss. She doesn't see that the Bishop tilts.
~Fin~
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