Well I've been on a songfic kick for awhile. And a dom-Arthur apparently too... Anyway, all of the songs belong to the most amazing underground band ever, Innerpartysystem. American Trash, Don't Stop, New Poetry, Heart of Fire, Obsession, and The Hook and the Cross do not belong to me. Neither do the delish Eames and Arthur. They're Nolan's idea, brilliant man. And as always read, enjoy, review.

I've got this planet

I'll try to save it

I'm satisfied with myself

Don't care for anyone else

I'm so united when I stand

****.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.****

He'd have her six ways to Sunday. Wasn't hard. He'd seen her, prettied up, expensive jewels dripping off her skin. He watched her until she looked up from her wine flute. She eyed him, trying to be coy. She blinked, took a shuddering breath.

She knew that he knew that she knew...he didn't do fucking coy.

Had she come in with someone? Didn't matter because she was going to leave with him. He gulped down his wine, put it on the tray of a passing server and stalked over to where she stood. He was hungry, and from the looks of it, she had an appetite too.

He had her against the wall. What he wanted from her really didn't concern a bed. She screamed, loudly, clenching around him, fingernails scrabbling against the wall. In his head he counted.

Twice over the table.

Twice on the sofa, her in his lap.

This was now going to be her second time against the wall. She came hard and he shortly after. All in all it was a satisfying little tryst and nothing more. He'd give her about an hour more of his time before leaving her in the hotel room.

Consider him sated.

I got, you want

It just don't stop

I got, you want

it just don't stop

This is entertainment

Lies are entertainment

You are down on your knees

Begging me for more

****.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.****

"So...you'll come back tomorrow," the young man asked. He had lovely orange-red hair and it smelled of blueberries. He had nervous blue eyes, nervous because Eames was returning less and less.

"Yes, of course darling, now give us a kiss."

Lips met and strong arms wrapped around the smaller shape. Eames kissed the man breathless, watching as a blush rose to the younger man's cheeks. He was getting closer all the time to his goal, however, he still didn't have it. He bit and tugged on the man's bottom lip. He relished in the slight gasp that the youth emitted.

Might as well revel in the indecency because he was leaving for good tomorrow. He'd fuck the man well and for hours, just enough so he wouldn't feel too bad. He'd even pay for the room.

He wasn't a complete heathen.

Lie to me

It's the new poetry

It's the language that we speak

****.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.****

She wasn't into ties, she'd said. She was just like him, she'd said. She was into whatever he wanted her to be.

Well, that may not have all been the truth but the efficiency with which she'd taken off his clothes was certainly convincing.

She was good, very good. Eames was sure she'd make some man very happy, just not him. Her lips traveled lower, nipping, sucking, teasing. He was game, so long as she didn't start spouting 'I love yous', so long as she didn't plan on leaving her number.

She could certainly suck cock like a pro. He threaded his fingers through her hair dark hair. He really did appreciate it. Her lilting Bolivian accent, her wide hips, and luscious, luscious lips.

When he left, because he really had somewhere to be in the morning, he hoped she'd remember him fondly. In fact, he'd make sure of it.

"Enough of that darling, it's my turn to have a taste."

Sit back, relax, recover

a fine time for me to mention you

get down, regret and wonder

who really ever tells the truth

****.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.****

Two for one. Eames loved couples, because with the two of them together there were no messy, stringy ties. The blond was much smaller and compact than her girlfriend. She also needed a little more coaxing. That was fine, because Eames was all about freeing inhibitions. He tilted her chin and took her mouth in a very convincing kiss. He pulled away to gauge her reaction.

Well, sometimes couples were a little messy. He looked over at her lover, the darker taller female. She eyed the two of them and quickly crawled over to her girlfriend. He smiled, understanding her little display.

It wasn't as if he was jealous.

What keeps the pressure building?

What takes your breath away?

What do I have to do to make you...want to

Fall in love with me?

What is your satisfaction?

I'll give you all you need

What do I have to do to make you...want to

Fall In love with me?

****.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.****

"What do you want," the younger man said irritably.

What I want is you.

"Nothing, so what exactly is the plan then?"

"You'll find out when everyone else does. Really, don't you have somewhere to be?"

No, fucked a maid, the owner of a fine mansion, and a nurse with a serious love for kink. No, Arthur, you wretched man, I have nowhere to be.

"You seem a little tense darling. Have you and Ariadne-"

"None of your business."

Ah, so still on the market.

Eames sat down on the edge of the table. Arthur was well immersed in an article he was reading online. His tapered fingers scrolled every few seconds, his dark eyes stared at the screen intensely. Eames almost licked his lips, but held himself in check.

"You really want Ariadne?"

Arthur looked over at him, eyes tearing him up and throwing him down, frayed, frazzled and scattered.

"Whom or what interests me doesn't really concern you does it?"

It does, it really does.

"It...it does."

Eames watched a startled expression flit across Arthur's face. Eames stood up and left.

And I cried out to you I need you baby

I need you here to satisfy

I need you baby

I promise you I'm still alive

But you're a liar

You're a sinner, you're a god

I need you baby

I'd sacrifice myself cause that's what keeps me strong

****.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.****

"Did you mean what you said?"

"Depends on what I said."

Depends on whether you want it to be said.

"Why does it matter to you?" Sharp eyes fixed on him. Eames suppressed a shiver. He'd always wanted those eyes on him. They'd been working together for years. He'd been lying to himself for years. Who would want to confess to themselves that they loved someone so unyielding?

"You asked about Ariadne. When I told you it was none of your business...you said something interesting."

"Did I? What did I say Arthur?"

Work for it Arthur, because I need to hear the truth or at least be able to hear the lie. Tell me the truth...even if I don't deserve it.

"That it did matter to you. I have two questions."

"Please, ask."

"Do you love Ariadne?"

The woman? Oh, no, Arthur. Now, please ask the other question. Ask me for the truth.

"Is is me you want?"

Eames licked his lips and then finally looked up at Arthur.

"Do you really have to ask?"

"No...but I wanted to ask anyway. Did you know that I knew?"

"Yes, but we're liars you and I. I knew I'd have to wait."

Arthur smirked. The young man's fingers traced gently along the side of his face, dancing gently along his jaw. He moved closer and brushed his lips against Eames'. This time Eames could not suppress his shudder.

"I'm glad that you did and I'm glad that you finally told the truth."

"Not to sound completely cliche, but the truth...did it just set me free?"

"No,"Arthur said pulling away, "you're clothes are still on. Meet me at my apartment in an hour, I'll see if there's anything to be done about it."