Title: I Do Hope You Remembered The Extra Butter, Darling.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Eames
Spoilers: Inception
Warnings: Oral sex
Disclaimer: They belong to Christopher Nolan, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me.
Summary: Arthur and Eames go to a movie.
Author's Notes: This was written as a gift for my friend Kaylah after she made me an Arthur/Eames banner. Her prompt was: Arthur and Eames go to a movie.
Arthur is standing in line for popcorn at the movie theater while Eames purchases the tickets. The carpet is maroon, the ceiling decorated with ridiculous golden stars, and there is a security guard standing exactly fifteen feet to his left. If he needed to make a quick escape for any reason, there are four emergency exits nearby and he has calculated the precise amount of time it would take to snatch up Eames and bolt out of there before anyone noticed. He knows that the emergency exit to his immediate right would be the fastest route, because it is closest to his parked car's location. He takes in all these facts, stores them for use later if needed. None of these facts really matter at the moment. Arthur turns his attention, with a broad grin plastered across his face, to watch Eames flirt mercilessly with the girl in the box office. He knows that the girl doesn't mean anything; Eames isn't even attracted to women. Granted, he knows a pretty girl when he sees one, but he has no interest in the female body. Flirting is what Eames does best and it almost always wins him some sort of prize in the end. Who could possibly resist the charm of that accent and those lips? Arthur had certainly failed. He prided himself on his iron will and level-headedness. However, Eames had a beautiful way of making Arthur's walls of propriety crumble and reducing him to a quivering heap of wantonness.
Things between the two of them had been steady for quite a while now, since the Fischer job. Something about it had brought them together in a way nothing else ever had. Arthur thinks it might have been the complexity of inception. All the preparation, spending so much time together, and sharing ample amounts of dream time. They learned a great deal about one another and about themselves, simultaneously. Somehow, neither had known that the other was into guys. Eames had laughed and practically shouted, "Arthur? You're into blokes too? Well, hot damn." Even in the dream, with only the two of them there to hear, Arthur felt as though some huge burden was lifted off his shoulders.
Eames struts over to Arthur, pulling him from his reverie, flashing two tickets and a brilliant smile.
"I do hope you remembered the extra butter, darling."
Arthur rolls his eyes and holds up the bag of popcorn for Eames' inspection.
"Of course I did. You'd berate me endlessly if I ever forgot."
Eames simply beams at him and steals the popcorn from his hands, palming a messy handful of it.
"You know that stuff will kill you, right? You're going to die of a heart attack one day, I swear it."
Eames answers between mouthfuls of popcorn, "Cobb would never allow it. He'd be bloody outraged if I died outside of performing some insane task for him."
Arthur smiles knowingly and follows Eames into the dark confines of the theater, whispering, "Indeed."
It's some ridiculous movie about ninjas. Or assassins. Maybe it's ninja assassins? Arthur can't really remember - he didn't pick the film anyway. This one has Eames written all over it. Several of the things Eames loves annoy Arthur endlessly, but they are the very things that he finds so endearing about the handsome Brit. Arthur always pays attention to the movies Eames chooses, so they can converse about the details later. He's watching the movie rather intently, as the men on screen display a fairly decent knowledge of martial arts, and later, he'll look back and know that he should have realized what Eames was about to do. In this moment, he never suspects that a simple tease will lead to much more. He absentmindedly reaches over for a handful of popcorn, splaying his fingers in the buttery goodness, when he feels a strong hand stop him. He shoots Eames a confused look, and begins to say, 'What, I can't have any?' but his words die in his throat because Eames pulls two of the point man's buttered-covered fingers into his mouth and sucks on them lasciviously. Arthur's eyes widen as Eames proceeds to clean every tiny trace of butter off his fingers, using more tongue than is honestly required. He wiggles in his seat uncomfortably, glancing around to make sure that no one else in the theater is witnessing the ridiculously erotic visual of Eames sucking anything with those lips. Christ, those lips were most definitely made to be wrapped around Arthur's cock. After he's done enough teasing to satisfy himself, Eames releases Arthur's fingers with a loud POP! and resumes watching the film, with the faintest hint of a smirk lingering on his face.
Arthur shifts nervously in his seat several times in the next half hour, partially due to the constriction of his pants, which he is blaming on Eames' inability to contain himself in public. Arthur shakes his head in disbelief and shivers a little at the memory of Eames' warm mouth. Oh, how he loves the feeling of it wrapped around him. All the while, Eames is watching Arthur in his peripheral and decides to act before Arthur's erection is gone.
"Oh, sorry, love. Dropped my phone."
Eames is on the floor and for a second, Arthur genuinely believes him; until he feels a pair of hands fumbling with his trousers. Before he can properly protest, his half-hardened cock is completely exposed and Eames is stroking it gently.
"Eames, get back up. There are people -"
"Shhh."
"No, we can't, people can see - not the new Italian silk - I just got this from my tailorrrrnnnngh."
Without warning, Eames sinks his head into Arthur's lap and envelops him in the warm cave that is his mouth. Arthur can feel the vibration of Eames' laughter and the smallest hint of a smile around his cock. Arthur's sudden moan attracts a few startled looks, but he manages to shoot them a strained, polite smile in an attempt to dismiss their prying eyes. Everyone's attention returns to the screen and Arthur sighs in relief.
Eames pushes his head all the way into Arthur's lap, allowing Arthur's cock to hit the back of his throat, and he swallows instinctively, causing the tight-lipped man above him to whimper in both pleasure and frustration. Suddenly, Arthur's hands are in Eames' hair, pushing and pulling. He's at war with himself, wanting Eames to stop because Jesus Christ, they're in a crowded theater, but never wanting him to stop because Jesus Christ, it feels so fucking good. Eames flicks his tongue over the head and feels Arthur squirm above him. One of Eames' favorite visuals is watching Arthur come undone, but a public setting is making it even more intense. Eames palms himself through his pants and moans around Arthur's cock.
Eames wants to take his time and make Arthur practically beg for an orgasm in the middle of this crowded theater, but his own excitement gets the best of him. Eames speeds up his pace, furiously bobbing his head in Arthur's lap, rubbing his hand on his own denim-clad erection. He feels Arthur's head fall back and Arthur's thighs clench, and he knows that Arthur is going to let go any moment. Eames sucks harder, faster, and strokes his own cock with more fervor, desperately trying to push himself over the edge in sync with Arthur.
Arthur is breathing much too heavily - people are staring at him. It's too late now. He can feel the blinding, white-hot pleasure coursing through him and he no longer cares about anyone else in the room. He's whispering incoherently and the only word that Arthur can remember is Eames, Eames, EAMES. As he spills down Eames' throat, it's the only word in the universe that really matters.