Work Text:
The Premise:
“Dom, can I talk with you for a minute?” Arthur practically dragged the other man away from the group of dream workers who were discussing Cobb’s recent announcement. He finally let go of Cobb’s sleeve and they both came to a stop on the far side of the hotel suite. He looked over at the others in the room. Yusuf was preparing the device while Ariadne chatted eagerly to Eames about how cool this was going to be. Eames, in turn, watched her like an owner would watch an excited puppy at the end of a long day.
“What’s wrong, Arthur?” Cobb asked levelly, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone.
“I don’t understand why I have to do this. My dreams are the most stable of anyone here and you know it.” Arthur crossed his arms in frustration, thinking that this was not necessary for what was required for their current jobs.
“Don’t get cocky, Arthur,” Cobb warned, also crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. “More practice will never go amiss. And…” he looked at Arthur out of the corner of his eye to make sure he had the other man’s attention, “there might be a new job coming up that will test all of our limits.”
“Alright, fine, I respect that,” Arthur nodded, knowing that this very moment was not the one to start asking his friend about this new mystery job; not if he wanted answers anyway. “But why in hell was I paired up with Eames? You would be able to test my focus on keeping stability just as well.”
“You know that’s not true,” Cobb smiled slightly. “You may not want to admit this to yourself but Eames is the only person I have ever met who was capable of ruffling your feathers.” He saw from Arthur’s forced neutral expression that he was still not impressed, “Trust me. You two will provide the best challenges for each other.”
“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to be able to help him,” Arthur admitted, going tense as he saw Eames flash him a smirk before returning his attention to Ariadne’s animated rant.
“Do you really not notice?” Cobb rolled his eyes at the obliviousness of people at times. When he saw Arthur look at him questioningly he sighed, “Eames’s job in a dream is to blend in and to perfectly fit into a certain role, correct?” He saw Arthur nod with his own eye roll, “Yet you are inexplicably skilled at picking him out of a crowd.”
“What are you implying?” Cobb could see his friend’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow suspiciously.
“All I’m implying,” Dom held up his hands in an act of surrender, “is that you two are the best at testing each others’ limits.” He saw Arthur relax against the wall again, appeased. “Look, it’s just five trials. You know you can handle that and that this will benefit you.”
“Alright, alright,” Arthur held up his hands in mock defeat, “I can handle five trials with Eames. Especially if I get to spend them pointing out his flaws,” he smirked.
“However you want to look at it,” Dom held back a second eye roll as they both walked back the short distance to the group. Ariadne was still talking Eames’s ear off but she quieted down when Cobb walked up. “Alright, Arthur and Eames will be going first so you two go get hooked up.”
Arthur could feel Eames watching him pass by towards one of the chairs before heading to his own. He purposefully avoided Eames’s eyes, which were trying to catch his gaze to make some smartass remark. Instead he watched himself slide the needle under his skin before staring at Cobb for further instruction.
When he saw that both men were seated comfortably and set up, Cobb continued his explanation. “Your goal will be to test each other’s main ability in the dreamscape; find their weak points and help them improve upon them,” he stressed when he saw both men’s determined smirks. “You’ll be put under for ten minutes, which will give you two hours in the dream. During the first hour Arthur will be attempting to find Eames while he is hiding in some role. We’ll play you some music and during the next hour Eames will attempt to shatter Arthur’s focus, attack the dream’s stability and cause it to collapse. Any questions?”
“Yeah, one,” Eames readjusted into a more comfortable position on his chair, “Why do we have to do this exactly? I don’t need to be in a dream to ruffle Arthur’s feathers. Isn’t that right, pet?” he smirked over at Arthur, who kept a well-practiced face of neutrality.
Cobb dug up whatever patience he had. “You have to do this in a dream because you can’t uphold roles the same way in reality and pissing someone off out here is very different from causing a dreamer to lose his focus to the point of collapsing a dream.”
“I think we should only have to do this once,” Eames muttered.
“Too bad, Yusuf?” he called and the chemist started the device, drawing both men down into Arthur’s dream and an artificial sleep.
Trial One
Arthur found himself seated at a bar with polished wood that reflected light from the chandeliers above. It was on an elevated stage at the edge of an elegant dance hall; carefully maintained hardwood floors perfect for dancing and numerous crystal chandeliers sparkling high above. He ordered a drink from the nearest bartender who was dressed formally as he continued looking around his dreamscape.
There was a slightly elevated stage in the corner opposite the bar with a gleaming black grand piano sitting empty, cover down to protect it from dust until it was to be used. On the other section of the stage there was a small band playing a mixture of upbeat and slow songs suitable for dancers of various skill level.
“Sir,” the bartender slid his drink across the bar surface with a nod before disappearing to service another customer; a projection. That reminded him of why he was here as he lifted his glass and carefully took a sip. The coolness of the liquid and the heat from the alcohol mixed pleasantly as it slid down his throat.
Taking another slow sip he took his first look at the projections his mind offered to populate the room. All of the men were in their best suits, not a crease to be seen among them all. Arthur looked down at himself for a brief moment to see what he was dressed in and nodded to himself in approval of his double breasted suit. He looked up again and took note of the women mixed in between the men. They all wore formal gowns and glimmering jewellery to match.
Most guests were engaged in polite conversation or traveling across the edges of the dance floor to soon start one. This caused a constant murmur of sound that echoed around the large room. There were also a few couples dancing around to the music and chatting happily with their partners.
He had to find Eames, with some detailed and solid persona to hide behind, somewhere in this throng of people. He didn’t stand from the bar right away, instead considering what he knew about Eames while finishing off his drink. Once he slid the empty glass back towards the inner edge of the bar he stood up, tugged the bottom of his suit jacket back down into place, and began walking along the edge of the elevated stage that the bar was situated on.
Eames was cocky, confident and more than happy to show it. There was a possibility that Eames might be brazen enough to approach him but with this being a time limit Arthur doubted it. So it was likely that Eames wouldn’t come up to him, but Arthur was still almost certain that he would not be able to restrain himself from the most attractive figure he could come up with. In this trial he wasn’t supposed to aim for Arthur’s attention but he doubted that would stop him.
As Arthur continued to skirt the edge of the dance floor, seamlessly weaving between groups of projections, he wondered if he should be looking out for a woman or a man. He knew that Eames was just as comfortable in either form but did not know which he would choose to use in order to capture Arthur’s attention.
There were many beautiful men and women that he passed but he instinctively knew that they weren’t Eames. His eyes danced over figures and faces before sharply flickering back and narrowing in scrutiny and then triumph, a small smile curling his lips. Cobb’s words about Arthur being able to pick Eames out of a crowd briefly flitted across his mind but then he shrugged it off, assuming that he had picked Eames out because he knew enough to look for the most attractive person in the room.
He dodged projections as he cut a line across the dance hall, watching Eames’s back as he approached. He—or in this case she—was gorgeous and Arthur wouldn’t deny that. She had luscious curves that begged to be traced, shown off by the clinginess of her dress. The dress itself was made of a red material that shimmered in the light. The straps came up around her neck in a halter style, leaving the back to dip dangerously low and show off more skin than would be considered entirely appropriate at an event like this.
As he approached she turned slightly to talk with another projection that was grazing his eyes over her in a way that made Arthur speed up his steps. But then he saw her eyes flicker towards him before drifting back to the man in front of her quickly and he slowed down, growing more confident.
The action itself was not what gave Eames away as it was a reaction any individual would have to an approaching figure. No, it was Eames’s eyes. They were shaped differently, more feminine, and were even a different colour from the blue green Arthur was used to seeing. But those eyes held a spark that Arthur knew well; an awareness and thrill over a challenge and a con.
Arthur came alongside her and gave the other man a look that made him scurry away at a quick pace. Then he turned his full attention back to examining Eames’s persona up close. Her blonde hair fell down in soft curls past her shoulders and her lips, curved upwards in a shy smile, were stained red. She wore a small choker of diamonds around her neck which caught the light perfectly, pulling attention to her otherwise bare neck.
She held up her hand and Arthur took it in his own, bring it to his lips briefly before letting it drop to her side again. “Hello Eames.”
He looked down at her, this form shorter than him, as she continued smiling and cocked her head to one side in confusion, “Who?” Her voice reminded Arthur of wind chimes, but softer.
“Listen, we can keep going back and forth like this for an hour until it’s your turn or we can get this over with and get out early,” Arthur was aware of the dancing pairs around them but they all seemed to give them a foot of space on all sides, leaving himself and the hidden Eames alone in the middle of the dance floor.
“Oh bloody hell, fine,” the woman’s smile fell but the rest of the person remained. “How did you know? I thought I wore Olivia’s form quite well if I do say so myself,” Eames ran his hands down the body in a scandalous motion, finding a new reason to smirk at Arthur.
Arthur, in turn, did his best to ignore the delicate hands as they traveled and kept his gaze on Olivia’s face. “I knew you’d be cocky enough to pick the most attractive form you had to show off and I was right.”
“That’s it?” Eames raised one plucked eyebrow. “There are plenty of attractive people in here ready to show off.”
Arthur hesitated for just a moment before deciding that the point of this was for them to learn. “Your eyes are what confirmed my suspicion.”
“My eyes? Darling, I didn’t know that you gave me that much attention,” Eames fluttered her long eyelashes with a flirty smile. Arthur rolled his eyes, having been expecting that response. “But I’m not sure I understand; I changed the shape and colour of my eyes.”
Arthur suddenly felt a little flushed, wondering how best to describe what he had seen in Eames’s eyes that had made him so sure of the other’s identity. “There is a spark—or a, a look you have when you’re in the middle of a challenge or a thrill,” Arthur struggled to explain, growing more frustrated with himself as Eames’s smile widened. He sighed, “You know what? I found you. Let’s get on with your half of this trial.”
“How about a dance around the floor first?” Eames smiled up at him, still in Olivia’s form. “Come on, make a girl’s night.”
“No.”
“How about if I look like this?” Olivia’s form slowly melted away into the more familiar form of Eames, smirking and dressed in a suit Arthur could be proud of.
“No.”
Eames pouted, crossing his arms childishly and tucking his thumbs into the inner pockets of the suit’s jacket. “So you want me to cause you to drop the dream so we’ll be done the trial.”
“Yes.”
“One dance won’t kill you, pet,” Eames stuck his lip out, looking pitifully sad. His lips were no longer stained red though they still caught Arthur’s attention for a brief moment.
Taking a quiet breath to centre himself he crossed his arms in what he hopped deterred the notion of dancing entirely. “With you it might.”
“Nothing will make you happier than for me to cause you to drop this dream and have this trial over,” Eames said in almost a questioning tone. Arthur didn’t know why he looked quite as let down as he did.
“Nothing.”
“Alright,” Eames reached one hand further into his jacket before withdrawing it with a gun clutched in his hand. The metal reflected the light of the chandeliers and it was pointed directly at Arthur. “Forgive me, love.”
Arthur did not have time to speak, let alone think. He barely took in Eames’s words before he heard an ominous click and a sharp crack of sound that echoed through the ballroom, stilling the party. He saw Eames’s face, a flash of regret before resolve. Then there was a sharp searing pain for just a second before he bolted up in the hotel’s chair, hand clutching his forehead as the residual pain faded.
He groaned, knowing that he would have this blinding headache for the next couple of hours. He felt a solid hand rest on his shoulder, warmth seeping into his body at the point of contact comfortingly. That was until he heard Eames’s voice, laced with something close to concern, “Are you alright?”
Realizing whose hand was on his shoulder Arthur smacked it away and looked up at the man hovering beside him. “Of course I’m not alright; you just shot me in the head!” It wasn’t the first time he had experienced this, obviously, since it was the best method to wake a dreamer up. But that didn’t mean that it hurt any less than if he had actually been shot in reality. “We’re going under right now and I’m going to tear you to shreds!”
“No, you’re going to take a break,” Dom walked up to him, handing him a glass of water and some aspirin. “Ariadne and I are going to do our first trial and you can do your second one this afternoon.” He gave Arthur a look that discouraged further protest, “So how did your first trial go?”
“We both succeeded,” Eames smirked proudly, as if he and Arthur were a team and had accomplished something together instead of working against one another. “Arthur was able to pick me out in a huge party while I was in one of my most comfortable roles. Then I got him to drop the dream.”
“That doesn’t count,” Arthur ground out, tipping another aspirin out of the bottle and swallowing it dry. “We already know that dying will cause us to drop a dream. That’s not the same thing as causing me to lose my concentration to attack the stability of the dreamscape.
“Arthur is right in a sense,” Cobb spoke while settling himself into Eames’s recently vacated chair. “We are hoping that you can find other ways of ruffling Arthur’s focus and help him strengthen his ability to keep a dream stable. But you have four more trials so don’t worry,” he added at seeing Eames struggle to maintain his formerly cheerful smile.
“Oh fantastic, four more trials!” Arthur bit out as he pulled himself out of the chair to let Ariadne get set up for her first trial. He felt Eames’s hesitant hand at his shoulder but he swatted it away and lay down on the nearest bed, flinging an arm over his face to block out the midday sun.
Arthur uncovered his eyes for a brief moment as Dom and Ariadne went under, watching Yusuf hover over the device. He also saw Eames leaning against a far wall. He saw that Eames was watching him, face blank, but looked away when Arthur looked up. Arthur ignored this and pulled the first layer of sheets over his body as he drifted off. He knew that a short nap would ease the headache immensely and prepare him for their second trial later in the afternoon.
- - - - - - - - - -
He woke up two hours later and walked across the room to join the rest of the group who were all gathered around a platter of room service food. His headache was gone with his nap and his anger at Eames mostly evaporated with it. So when Eames shuffled over on the couch to give him space to sit down he did not object and took the spot.
It was an hour or so later when he was sitting down on the hotel chair again, Eames settling into the other one. Ariadne and Yusuf had gone out to pick up some things so it was only Cobb who came over to them. “Alright, so use what you learned in your last trial to increase the challenge and try to find new weaknesses.”
Both men nodded their understanding, sharing a quick glance before lying back in a relaxed position as they felt the device pull them under once again.
Trial Two
Arthur leaned back against the uncomfortably hard back of the park bench, scanning his surroundings. There was a paved walking path that passed in front of him a short distance away where bicycles, strollers, and individuals passed by at varying paces. He saw one young girl in a soft pink dress dance along behind her father as they passed, giggling over the pinwheel she held in her hands. Further in the distance was a large pond surrounded by green hills all sloping down towards its banks. Even at a distance he could see families with spread out picnic blankets and children dashing around the cattails hunting frogs.
He looked over to his left, watching the paved pathway lead towards a set of swings far off in the distance; he couldn’t see the children swinging properly but he could hear their faded giggles of delight. Arthur crossed one leg loosely over the other, resting one arm on the bench’s rusted metal arm and looked to his right. The path wove between a few very old trees until it eventually faded from his view.
Behind him, when he took a brief look, was a long line of pine trees piecing the sky with their height that came from age. Beyond that there was a vast expanse of open field where projections tossed a Frisbee back and forth, a few kids ran excitedly with colourful kites caught in the breeze, and a soccer game was taking place.
He turned back around, tired of straining his neck. He was in relative shade with all the trees around him and only a few streams of warm sunlight danced across the ground as the leaves swayed. The breeze was a little cool as it passed over him, like that of a late spring day, but the still air was comfortably warm.
Once again he remained where he was and considered what he knew of Eames. He doubted that the man was stupid enough to use a very attractive form again, especially in a setting like this where it would be out of place. Arthur tapped a finger on his thigh, wondering if he should leave the bench to search for Eames or whether he thought the man would be bold enough to approach him.
Arthur worried that if he stood up and left the bench that he and Eames might miss each other since this was a vaster dreamscape than a dance hall. He decided to remain where he was, curious about Eames’s plan and persona. He waited and waited and waited but no one approached him. He knew time was disappearing fast and he stood up, suddenly second guessing his decision to remain in one place.
He wondered which direction he should take and decided to warm himself up in the sun by the pond. He walked down slowly, watching every individual he passed until he sat down on a flattened patch of grass. He saw the little girl in pink on the far side of the bank, having joined the effort of catching the elusive frogs. Her father was lounging on some grass across the water from him. Arthur narrowed his eyes slightly, scrutinizing the man who was nearly mirroring him, but decided that it wasn’t Eames after all.
With a sigh he pulled himself up and rejoined the path, wondering what lay in the far distance to the right where trees blocked his view. He watched every person sharing the path with him but no one seemed to catch his attention and no one approached him or even spared him a glance.
He eventually left the path when he saw a huge growth of brush and trees off to one side. Just has he ducked under the final branch of a large tree and came upon a large shed probably used by gardeners he heard the music beginning to play. Not a second later he heard, “Hello Darling.”
It was the voice that startled him, causing him to trip on a hidden tree root. First of all he had not heard anyone come up behind him, and second of all he had not been expecting the voice of a tiny child. His hands waved in the air for a moment, looking for a hold that wasn’t there, before he fell on his back. Arthur groaned in pain as he landed on another similarly hidden tree root, trying to catch his breath around the pain.
The little girl in the pink dress stood over him, little pinwheel clutched in one hand. There was a smile on her lips at Eames’s success of not being found in the time limit. But Arthur could also see a hint of concern in her gray eyes, dampening her smile at the corners of her mouth. Arthur forced himself to ignore the pain and return to a standing position, knocking dead leaves and dirt off his suit.
He looked down at the little girl who wasn’t much past his hip, “Well you did a really good job of hiding; I couldn’t even tell it was you in that role when I saw you. But part of your job is to be unrecognizable even when you approach a mark.”
“I know that,” the little girl answered hotly, “But since you’re expecting me to approach you it is a little more difficult. I decided to just practice my ability to blend in during this trial.”
Arthur nodded at this, “So what do you have planned?”
“We’re going to go in there,” her voice was high pitched and a little sharp. Arthur saw that she was pointing to the gardener’s shed.
With a shrug of his shoulders Arthur dodged the last of the brush and walked towards the shed with the little girl following behind him. He expected the door to be locked but when he tested the knob it only took one hard tug before the door swung open. He stepped inside, suddenly feeling a little nervous. The shed was large enough to hold some lawn mowers, shrub trimmers, rakes, two damaged lawn chairs, and a long rolled up hose in the corner. The walls were made of concrete, probably to keep vandals out, and the windows were set high in the walls. “So what exactly are we doing--?” he began before he heard the door slam shut and the lock click closed.
He turned sharply at the sound but was already too late to prepare for what was about to happen. Eames was already right behind him, in his normal form, and shoved him down into one of the lawn chairs. He tightened some very real looking handcuffs around each wrist and attached them to the chair before Arthur could react beyond giving a good kick to Eames’s left knee.
Eames took a few steps back and massaged his knee with a wince before straightening again. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Arthur strained at the cuffs for a minute until he realized he was more likely to be able to break the chair than them. As he saw Eames reach into his jacket once again he huffed, a bundle of frustration and nerves, “Oh again with the gun?”
Arthur swallowed though when the gun was not pointed at his head but at his knee instead. “You know I was actually just planning on testing whether you lost your concentration when startled, but that didn’t even cause a flicker when I tried. But do you know what did cause a flicker?” Arthur didn’t speak, attention focused on the muzzle of the gun. “The pain from falling on a tree root.”
Arthur took a steadying breath, preparing himself for the pain he would soon experience. He had been shot in the knee before; he wasn’t looking forward to a repeat experience. Eames clicked the safety off, continuing, “When I say a flicker I mean that you caused a few leaves to fall off the tree. But I figured that in the types of dreams we go into that there’s a good chance you’ll get something more than a tree root in your back.”
“Just do it already!” Arthur spat, the pent up energy in his muscles that he couldn’t use making him more agitated.
He saw Eames lick his lips nervously and shift his grip on the gun. Some sort of determination crept into his eyes then, and Arthur clenched his eyes shut, holding his breath. There was a moment of heavy silence that Arthur swore could’ve been a full hour, and then he flinched at the sudden sound. “Dammit!” He opened his eyes in time to see Eames put the safety back on and shove the gun down on a workbench.
“You have got to be joking,” he didn’t turned when Arthur spoke. “You put me through all of this and then chicken out at the last minute?” Arthur was seriously considering the possibility of using the chair he was chained to so that he could beat Eames to the ground with it.
“I’m not going to shoot you just to cause you pain,” Eames ground out, staring down at the workbench rather than meet Arthur’s gaze.
“Why not? It’s a dream so it won’t be permanent. Yes it’ll hurt immensely but you’re right; the stability of my dream can be attacked with pain and the only way to avoid that is to work up my tolerance to pain,” Arthur rationalized, a little surprised at himself for trying to talk Eames into shooting him. But he told himself that this was the point of the trials; he had to find his weaknesses and improve upon them to keep the whole team safe during a job.
“I don’t care. Learn to dodge bullets or alter the dreamscape to protect you or something,” Eames still kept his eyes trained downwards.
Arthur could see that his jaw and hands were clenched tightly. “Well if you’re not going to go through with this can you at least get rid of these handcuffs?” Eames came over then but before he could reach for the first handcuff Arthur kicked him squarely in the knee in the exactly same place as he had caught before. Eames took a step back and glared down at Arthur. “Shoot me,” Arthur whispered fiercely.
“If you’re so set on the idea then shoot yourself after I get the handcuffs off,” Eames remained out of reach of Arthur’s legs.
“I don’t have the willpower to shoot myself in the knee,” Arthur admitted darkly.
“Then why do you think I would, pet?” Eames shouted, truly angry now. “What kind of person do you think I am?!”
“I think you’re the kind of person who understands that sacrifices have to be made to keep our team safe when doing a job,” Arthur forced his voice into a softer, calmer tone. He realized with a start that he had personally offended the man when he assumed that Eames would shoot him in the first place.
Eames took a slow, steadying breath before leaning in close to Arthur. He gripped Arthur’s chin and for a second Arthur thought he was going to kiss him. But instead he just whispered, “Fine, if you think this is a sacrifice worth making then you’re getting shot in the knee.” He stalked away to the workbench, still clearly upset about this whole plan even though—and Arthur didn’t dare remind him of this fact—it had been his plan to begin with. “Ready love?” he asked, gun trained once again on Arthur’s knee.
Arthur nodded, some intelligent part of his brain keeping him from voicing an order to have himself shot. A second later there was a deafening crack and Arthur curled over with a gasp, though his hands were bound and unable to put pressure on his searing knee. He struggled for breath as sweat beaded on his forehead and he could feel the dream shuddering around him.
He barely noticed Eames undoing the handcuffs, busy trying to focus on keeping the dream stable rather than give any more attention to his knee. Suddenly he felt a cool hand on his forehead which helped him regain his focus. He let out a whimper, leaning into the touch. The dreamscape gave one last tremble before falling solidly back into place. “Again,” he whispered before he lost his nerve.
“What? I’m not shooting you again!” Eames pulled his body away but kept his hand on Arthur’s forehead.
“Then give me the gun,” Arthur held out a shaky hand. “If I hold the dream through another shot I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to handle anything that happens on a job.”
“You’re insane, you know that right?” Eames muttered with a tone of exasperated affection, hesitantly placing the gun in Arthur’s hand. Arthur gave him a small smirk before placing the gun against his other knee, taking a deep breath, and pulling the trigger.
He tasted blood pooling on his tongue where he had bitten it to keep himself silent. He panted quickly, letting out small whines as his fast heartbeat caused his wounds to throb. His head fell forward onto Eames’s shoulder which was already there waiting for him. Arthur felt tears run down his cheeks and soak Eames’s shirt, his head muffled and dizzy with pain.
He took two deep breaths, feeling Eames’s sturdy hands resting on his back nervously. Then he did his best to move the pain to the back of his mind and focus on the dreamscape around him. He heard screams outside the shed and trees crashing to the ground, small garden tools rattling until they fell off their hooks and onto the floor. With everything he had he focused on returning stability to the dream, putting things back in place.
It took a few minutes before the shuddering stopped and the dream returned back to its stable state. He could hear children giggling and playing out in the field nearby. “You are an insane but incredible individual, love,” Eames whispered against his ear, Arthur’s face still buried in Eames’s neck.
“Thanks,” he whispered genuinely. Tears still fell slowly from his eyes, his knees no better off than they were a minute ago. But Arthur felt something he couldn’t quite understand, especially under the circumstances and pain: he was safe, things would be okay.
The music began playing at that moment and a minute after that Arthur blinked his eyes open to see the sunset outside the hotel’s windows. “How did it go?” Cobb asked from where he was putting away the device. Ariadne and Yusuf were on a couch by the window discussing something quietly.
“It went…well,” Arthur spoke, seeing Eames nod, “I couldn’t even find Eames this time around.” He knew there was nothing wrong with his knees now, the throbbing pain fading by the minute. But he couldn’t bring himself to stand on them yet.
“Yeah, and Arthur’s ability to hold onto a dream through pain is astounding!” Eames beamed at him, walking up beside him to help him when he first put weight on his legs.
Arthur saw Cobb’s worried expression, “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” And just to prove that he wasn’t lying he stood up from his chair, only using Eames’s shoulder for the initial push into a standing position. “Just need a bit of rest,” he added as he walked around the room, stretching the stiffness out of his legs.
“Well you two can head off to your own rooms for the night,” Cobb offered. “Ariadne and I are going to do our second trial and then everyone is going to sleep. You can do your third trial tomorrow morning.”
“Alright,” Arthur nodded, heading towards the door. The pain and stiffness were disappearing with each step he took and by the time he reached his private room a few doors down the hall he was almost back to normal.
He felt Eames brush behind him, passing him in the hallway to reach his own private room the next door over. “See you tomorrow, darling,” he winked at Arthur with a smirk before slipping his key into the door and disappearing with a quiet chuckle. Arthur rolled his eyes and entered his own room quietly.
- - - - - - - - - -
Trial Three
Arthur’s forehead rested against the cool glass of the taxi window. He glanced around at the cars boxing him in on every side, no one moving an inch. With a groan he sat up straight and stretched his back. “I’m just going to get out here,” he told the taxi driver before hopping out of the bright yellow car. He dodged the immobile cars, heading for the sidewalk.
He heard a rumble of thunder in the nearby sky, dark clouds pushing over the evening sun. People brushed by him quickly on the sideway, rushing to get home after a long day of work and before the sky opened up above them. Many horns blared around him, everyone’s temper rising in the middle of gridlock.
Once again Arthur was unsure about what action he should take. Should he keep moving, looking for Eames in the throng of people in rush hour mode? Would he even be out here or would he be hidden away in one of the many buildings that blocked in the clogged roads?
He decided to move along with the foot traffic, studying everyone he passed. But when the thunder moved closer and it began to rain, it rained. Arthur was soaked through within seconds and he quickly ran into the first building he came to.
It turned out to be a bar and lounge on the lobby floor of a rather lavish hotel. The lights were dim and the air was a little smoky. There were a few business men chatting over drinks at a secluded group of couches, and many other younger and more casual drinkers picking up drinks at the bar or finding a comfortable place for conversation. With a shrug of his shoulders he decided that this would be as good a place as any to wait and went to order a drink and wait.
But Eames never showed up. After a while he knew his time was running out and considered going back outside but the rain was coming down in sheets and his clothes were still damp from his first few seconds outdoors. He figured that Eames would find him for his half of the dream and ordered another drink as the music began. When the bartender handed it to him he took it over to a table by the window looking out onto the street; this way he might see Eames and vice versa.
Many people ran by the window, some lucky enough to have umbrellas and others less fortunate; but no Eames. He was aware of the time that had passed, growing a little bored. It was a relief when the music began playing again and he was blinking his eyes open. The first thing he was aware of in reality this time was Eames’s voice, “Well that was a bloody waste of time. You do know that there is such a thing as too much detail, right darling?”
Arthur looked over at Eames and raised an eyebrow, noting how the man seemed to be shivering. “You didn’t stay out in the rain, did you?”
“I was trying to find you!” Eames glared, rubbing his hands along his arms as if to warm them even though he was back in reality now. “Where the hell were you?”
“When it started raining I ducked into a hotel lounge,” Arthur smirked as Eames’s eyes narrowed.
Both men stood from their chairs, moving out of the way as Dom and Ariadne started getting ready. “Well I’m glad you were comfortable, pet,” Eames’s anger seemed to fade even though his sarcasm remained. Arthur went to the couch to read over the notes Yusuf had made for him on a new compound he was testing out. Eames grabbed a drink from the mini fridge and then sat down beside him. “It’s a shame...” he muttered more to his drink than Arthur.
“What is?” Arthur asked with his split focus.
“I had a really good plan to use on you,” Eames waited until Arthur looked up curiously to flash him the most devious smirk he had in his arsenal. “Now you’re just going to have to wait and wonder.”
Arthur rolled his eyes and returned his attention to reading Yusuf’s notes, not entirely conscious of how he was biting his lip nervous or Eames’s eyes on this subconscious reaction.
- - - - - - - - - -
The sun had already set when Eames, Arthur and Yusuf entered the hotel room they had been using for the trials. Everyone had gone down to the hotel’s restaurant to grab some dinner and then Cobb and Ariadne had excused themselves to go check out a collection of books on dream theory that had just gone on display at the nearby museum. “Missing out on a real party, we are,” Eames faked a moan of despair as he collapsed into his chair.
“Actually I was really looking forward to reading those...” Yusuf began sadly.
“Then go,” Eames waved aimlessly at the door. “You might as well enjoy yourself while you’re here.”
“I couldn’t leave you dreaming without someone watching...” Yusuf said it in a tone that was just begging for Eames to contradict him.
“We don’t need you watching us sleeping,” Eames scoffed. “Just push the button, catch up with Cobb and Ariadne, hope they really meant checking out books when they said that, and we’ll take care of ourselves.”
“Are you sure?” Yusuf asked, clearly ready to dash out the room the next second. Eames rolled his eyes and nodded. Arthur, who had remained silent during the discussion, shrugged neutrally and nodded as well. “Thanks!” He pushed the button and they both saw the man dashing for the door as their eyes closed heavily.
Trial Four
Arthur stepped down into the second story theatre box that gave the best view of both the theatre and the stage. His shoes touched soft red carpet and he took his seat in one of the two chairs set up in the reserved box, the other one remaining empty. The cushions on the chair were the same deep red and Arthur could feel himself sinking into them with how soft they were.
Before the lights dimmed for the show Arthur leaned forward on the golden railing to look around the huge theatre. He had decided that one large building would be better suited for these trials than large expanses of city or park. He watched projections milling about, greeting people and trying to find their seats; he wondered if he would have to wait until intermission to track Eames down.
“Looking for me, darling?” he started at the voice behind him, whirling around quickly to see Eames enter the reserved box. His hair was combed back but his scruff remained where it was. He was decked out in a suit with a tie that drew attention to his eyes, their familiar mixture of green and blue. They flashed in time with Eames’s smile as he closed and locked the door leading to the hallway behind him. “Don’t want any projections bothering us, do we?”
Arthur watched him suspiciously as the man, looking every bit like he did in reality, picked up the second chair by the arms and dropped it right beside Arthur’s so that the armrests were touching. “You’re not doing a very good job of hiding,” Arthur stated, hoping for some explanation as Eames sat down in his chair.
“Like I said before, pet, I have a plan to make you drop your dream. I thought to myself, why waste an entire hour?” Eames grinned at him, a little too close for Arthur’s comfort, as if this was a wonderful surprise. Arthur opened his mouth to say something but Eames shushed him, “Be quiet, Arthur! The show is starting.” Arthur rolled his eyes but gave up as the lights in the theatre dimmed. The curtains drew back and a solitary actor rushed on stage, dressed in the Victorian era style. They were barely through the first scene before Eames leaned dangerously close to him, “To have a play in a dream the dreamer has to have it memorized right?”
“Yes,” Arthur whispered back.
“Wow...” Eames said with a mix of awe and depression over what Arthur shoved into his head. “That’s certainly...something,” he flashed Arthur a quick smirk before returning his attention to the stage. When the next scene started Eames leaned over again, “So did you want to go see that book collection as well?”
“I’ve already read them all and one I actually wrote,” Arthur sent Eames a smirk mixed with a genuine smile.
Eames shook his head, “Why am I not surprised?”
“Just shut up and enjoy the play.”
Eames groaned and slumped down in his chair. By the time the play was approaching the end of act one Eames was fidgeting to such an annoying degree that Arthur began considering throwing him over the balcony rail. Eames looked on, eagerly clapping when the curtain fell for the end of act one. But before he could even stand up the next act began, intermission cut out for the projections who did not appear bored in the slightest.
Arthur had almost forgotten Eames’s promise of a mystery plan until he felt the other man’s warm hand slide onto his thigh. He looked over at Eames with a warning glare before knocking the hand away. He did not seem deterred though because a few minutes later Arthur felt the hand come to rest on his crotch and begin massaging gently. Arthur knocked the hand away again, this time with more force. “What are you doing?” he hissed.
“Isn’t it obvious, darling?” Eames raised a mocking eyebrow, purposefully dropping that warm hand right back over Arthur’s covered cock. “Or has no one ever done this to you before?”
Arthur knocked the hand away a third time in outrage and, if he was being honest with himself, before an embarrassing reaction started. “But why are you doing this to me?”
“Well I figure that if pain could make you lose focus, then pleasure could do the same,” Eames smirked, his hand returning with purpose. Arthur let out a sigh, a little more breathy than he had meant it to be as the hand began massaging and groping him through his pants. Before he could build up his resolve to knock Eames’s hand away again, the other man spoke, “Are you afraid to admit that I might be right?”
Arthur sent him a glare before gritting his teeth and slipping down in his chair slightly, allowing the other man to continue, if only to prove him wrong. He could already feel his pants growing a little tight and from the look on Eames’s face, he could feel it too. When he was hot and hard in his pants he felt Eames’s fingers quickly plucking the buttons open and dipping his hand inside to grasp him tightly.
Eames kept a tight grip as he gave Arthur’s hard flesh slow and powerful strokes. Arthur let out a tiny moan and allowed his head to fall back against the top of the chair, hips shallowly thrusting upwards in time with Eames’s pattern. But much to Eames’s frustration the performance continued on without so much as a stutter from an actor.
Eames continued moving his hand, loving the feel of Arthur thrusting his heated flesh into his fist. Growing bolder he leaned over and began kissing along Arthur’s exposed neck, nibbling along his jaw and under his ear expertly. He felt Arthur quiver under him minutely as he marked Arthur’s neck for anyone to see. His lips quirked upwards into a smile against Arthur’s skin when he heard the main actor stutter. He twisted his grip with his next strong stroke as a reward, practically glowing at Arthur’s tiny groan.
But it still wasn’t enough for Eames, who suddenly pulled his hand away. Arthur whined at the loss, blinking his eyes open to look around. What he saw made him gulp. Eames was on his knees in front of Arthur, grabbing the belt loops of Arthur’s pants with his thumbs and shimmying them and Arthur’s boxers down to his ankles.
Arthur then watched in morbid fascination as Eames leaned forward, smirk twisting those sinful lips as they engulfed him and took in as much as he could manage. The fact that Eames did not break eye contact for the entire move caused Arthur to tilt his head back and groan loudly.
Eames continued at a slow pace, the look of his cheeks hollowing along with his movements leading Arthur to let out breathy moans he could not control. He felt Eames’s lips retreat, “Hush love. Have a little courtesy for those watching the show,” Eames kissed along his length. Those words, along with the sudden realization that a lot of people could see what was happening if they just happened to look over caused Arthur to tense and then thrust his hips up violently into Eames’s mouth. The man hummed in surprise around his sudden mouthful and then pulled away for a breath, “My, my, pet. I didn’t know the idea of someone watching would get you so hot.”
“Just shut up,” Arthur panted and placed a hand on the back of Eames’s head, pushing him back down insistently.
Eames chuckled and resisted Arthur’s blatant hint, “Think about it. Absolutely anyone in this theatre could choose to look over at this box. What do you think they’d see, love? You arched back, mouth hanging open, and a head bobbing up and down.” This time he followed Arthur’s push and took the cock in his mouth again as a reward for the beautiful moan Arthur gave him.
From then on he didn’t waste time with words. He allowed Arthur’s hand, fingers tangled tightly in his mussed hair, to lead him for the most part; though he twirled his tongue around on his own accord just to see Arthur come undone. He could tell Arthur was coming closer to his end as he slipped down lower in his seat, legs spread wide to accommodate Eames, with noticeable pauses in the actors’ lines.
Arthur wondered briefly to himself how Eames knew how to do this and why he was so good. He forced himself to raise his head, watching Eames swallow him whole with lidded eyes. He combed his fingers through Eames’s hair as he bobbed up and down. When Eames realized that he was being watched he raised his eyes to Arthur’s and winked wickedly, pulling a breathy whine from Arthur’s lips.
Eames picked up the pace from the subtle clues Arthur’s body was giving him; tense muscles, one hand clenched on the armrest while the other pulled Eames’s hair almost painfully, hips thrusting up into the moist heat that was Eames’s mouth without a steady pattern. There were also noticeable hints from the dreamscape itself. Actors would stand in place without lines or stuttering through the ones they remembered. The giant ornate chandelier that hung in the middle of the sculpted ceiling was swaying slightly, the crystals banging together making a sound similar to a wind chime.
“Eames…” came Arthur’s warning, though it was unnecessary as the ground began to quiver under their feet. But Eames did not pull away like Arthur was expecting, instead taking him all the way and sucking hard. He allowed Arthur a few uncontrolled thrusts, fighting his gag reflex, before the man above him let out a beautiful moan and he felt warmth fill his mouth.
He swallowed it all, licking Arthur clean before carefully pulling his pants back up as far as he could manage. He was about to tell Arthur to stand up so he could pull them up the rest of the way but when he looked up he saw that the man was a boneless heap, watching him hazily. Eames’s heart jumped at that face; flushed, eyelids heavy, and a true smile playing at the corner of his lips. The fact that Arthur had managed to hold onto the dream through Eames’s plan didn’t even disappoint the man in the slightest when he saw that expression.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t and that this could fall apart with the smallest mistake, Eames stood in one fluid motion and caught Arthur’s lips with his own. He tensed for a moment, worried that he had well and truly screwed up when Arthur’s lips remained still. But then he felt Arthur’s hand rest on the back of his neck and pull him into a deep kiss harshly.
They were quickly lost in each other; kissing, biting, exploring. Their lips locked together and they forgot to breathe, too wrapped up in their momentary pleasure. So when they were suddenly blinking their eyes open in a dark hotel room they were both panting. They realized that because Yusuf had left there had been no music to warn them that the end of the dream was coming. He had also forgotten to leave a light on so the room was only lit by the dim glow of the streetlights far below.
Slowly coming back to reality Arthur checked his pants, making sure they were completely on and done up. He risked a nervous glance over at the other chair, barely able to see more than an outline of the other man who was sitting still. He swallowed, finally realizing what they had done even if it was only in a dream. The fact that a part of Arthur wanted it to be reality caused him to stand up, confused and terrified.
“Arthur…” he heard the other man begin nervously, but he was already halfway across the hotel room. He told himself he wasn’t running—it was just a brisk walking pace—as he bolted for his own hotel room. He heard feet pursuing him and he slammed the door closed, locking it with the dead bolt. Eames’s footfalls rushed up to his door, stopped, and Eames knocked hesitantly, “Arthur please, I—we--” he heard Eames sigh in frustration and defeat. “Please?”
Arthur bit his lip, hand moving towards the dead bolt. But then he stilled his hand, not understanding the feelings that were in conflict inside him. He dropped his hand to his side again, standing in perfect silence. He heard Eames let out another sigh and a whispered curse before his footfalls started up again and he heard Eames’s hotel door slam shut.
He swallowed and lay down on the bed, nerves and something else unfamiliar making him too tense to consider sleep. Instead he was left staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. There was a lot he had to figure out and understand before he and Eames shared another dream tomorrow.
- - - - - - - - - -
Trial Five
Arthur tapped one of his betting chips on the table nervously. He couldn’t believe he had actually agreed to go into another dream with Eames so quickly. He had spent most of the night studying the ceiling and trying to sort through all the confusing thoughts and feelings running through his body. Arthur thought he had come to some sort of decision about how to handle things but when he saw Eames as they prepared for the last trial his throat closed up and he went under without a word.
What was he supposed to do now? What would Eames think? What had Eames been thinking these last few days, these last few months? Just thinking about it made Arthur’s stomach twist so he shoved the thoughts aside and dropped two chips down for red, watching the roulette spin. He wasn’t big on gambling but he needed something to occupy himself.
He was seated at one of the many tables spread out along the gambling floor, a sea of chiming slot machines in rows off to one side. Some people walked around the floor, chatting excitedly with friends, while the more serious gamblers were quiet and focused on their game. Waiters in perfect dress shirts and vests wandered around with purpose, picking up empty glasses and bringing drink orders to players unwilling to give up their spot at a table for something as trivial as hydration.
Arthur scanned the balcony above that looked down on the playing floor; looking for Eames and having no clue what to look for. Someone caught his eye and he trailed the person until they were lost in the crowd. “Sir?”
Arthur jolted back into himself, turning swiftly to meet the gaze of the person in charge of the table. “Sorry?”
“You won that round,” the man stated again, trying to hand him some chips. He probably thought Arthur was drunk or something, based on the look he was being given. Arthur nodded politely and took the chips.
He considered leaving the table to find a different game but decided that he was too unfocused to play much else. He set another few chips on a random number and watched the roulette spin. “Is this seat taken?”
Arthur looked up sharply at the man who was smiling down at him, taking the empty seat beside Arthur. He looked a little older than Eames, probably late thirties, and his black hair fell into his eyes which Arthur saw were a soft hazel. “Eames?”
“Sorry, who?” the man continued to smile, genuine confusion on his face.
“Oh, my mistake,” Arthur muttered, watching his chips being dragged away dully.
The projection, clearly unfazed, began talking happily to Arthur who gave polite nods and more or less ignored him. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Eames?” he turned in his seat, coming face to face with a waiter.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t heard of that type of drink before,” the waiter blinked in apologetic confusion.
Arthur sighed; he was going insane! “That’s a shame. I don’t need anything else, thank you.” The waiter nodded and disappeared into the mess of people again.
He eventually picked up his chips and left the roulette table, losing his patience for the projections trying to talk to him. He had chosen a dreamscape where they would be more likely to talk to make this last round a challenge, but he was in no mood to deal with the results. He found himself joining a table for Craps, drawn to the familiarity of dice. A group of people crowded around him to watch as he threw the dice, receiving a little money in return. “Gamble often?” someone asked at his side.
Arthur was so frustrated with the projections by now that he didn’t even spare the man a look, instead taking the offered dice and throwing them again. Everyone clapped excitedly when he rolled a four and a three. “No,” he finally thought to answer, “I don’t like to leave things to chance.”
The man gave a grunt of approval, falling silent as Arthur threw again. Even though he was silent, Arthur could tell that the man was still there, watching. Eventually he got annoyed and stepped aside, offering him the chance to throw. The man gave a nod and took his place while Arthur slipped in beside him.
While the other man played Arthur studied him. He was probably early forties with styled brown hair that stayed away from his clean shaven face. His eyes were a dark brown that almost looked black when they were shadowed by the man looking down at his betting chips. The man was very thin with his suit tailored to fit well. He gave Arthur the impression of a strict business man.
When the man drew Snake Eyes he gave a frustrated huff and turned back to Arthur. “Care to take a chance?” he waved his hand at the table steadily, no flicker of anything familiar to Arthur.
But those words struck him and the rest of the dreamscape fell away as secondary. “Eames?” he whispered, trying not to show how nervous he was about the response.
Even though he wasn’t sure what kind of response to expect, the one he received startled him, “Bloody hell! How do you always know?”
Arthur’s eyes widened, Eames’s voice pulling through the role before the rest of his form returned to his normal appearance. He shrugged helplessly, both of them stepping away from the table so some projections could begin playing. “There was nothing wrong with your role at all. The words just made me guess…” he admitted.
Eames sighed, now fully himself, “I guess you just know me too well, darling. And not a moment too soon,” he added with a small smile as the music began to play, signalling the end of the first hour in this dream.
Arthur chuckled humourlessly when he saw Eames’s expression. He decided that the man was right and that he did know him too well because even though Eames wore a smile and appeared relaxed, Arthur could somehow tell how sad and unsure the other man was. “Come with me,” he said quietly, leading the other man off the gaming floor and into the lobby where they grabbed an elevator.
The music was just fading away as the elevator started its ascent. He and Eames stood across the elevator from one another, tense and silent. There were mirrors on three of the four walls as well so it was kind of dizzying. Arthur took a deep breath, resolving to continue what he decided upon last night. “Do you know the lyrics to that song?” he asked Eames quietly.
The other man seemed a little surprised by the question, and a little amused as well, “I don’t know much French, I’m afraid.”
“I do,” Arthur saw Eames give an ‘I’m not surprised’ eye roll but he stayed focused, pushing himself away from the elevator’s wall. “Non, rien de rien…Non, je ne regrette rien…” he muttered as he paced closer until he was standing directly in front of Eames, their eyes nearly level. “No, absolutely nothing. No, I regret nothing,” he whispered before closing his eyes and leaning forward to catch Eames’s lips which were open in surprise.
He was worried that the man would shove him off, reject him the way Arthur had rejected him the night before. But the response was almost instantaneous and he found himself being pinned to the mirrored wall insistently. Arthur’s back was pressed against his reflection’s back while Eames and his reflection did wonderful, sinful things to Arthur’s mouth that caused him to gasp breathlessly.
Arthur pushed back desperately, wanting this kiss to say so much. He wanted to apologize for how he reacted the night before and to prove to Eames how much he wanted this. As they fell to the floor, Arthur kissing Eames while straddling his thighs, Arthur was pretty sure the man got the message. Eames pulled away and latched his lips onto Arthur’s neck hungrily, leaving Arthur to pant and work the buttons of Eames’s suit open.
As the dress shirt finally opened, exposing Eames’s chest to Arthur at the expense of a few popped buttons, they felt the elevator slow. The door chimed and slid open with two little old ladies in floral dresses standing there. They looked down at the two men on the elevator floor, both panting and flushed. “My word!” one yelled.
“Oh, bugger off!” Eames reached over and hit the button to close the doors, immediately returning to his previous activity of peppering Arthur’s pale neck with small red marks.
“Shouldn’t we—find a room?” Arthur muttered half-heartedly even as he dipped his head down and teased one of Eames’s exposed nipples.
Eames grunted at the contact, thrusting his hips up shallowly into Arthur. “Fuck that. We’ll find a bed and do it on there later, pet,” he said with a smirk and another shallow thrust upwards before grabbing Arthur’s hair and pulling him down for another demanding kiss.
As they continued their kiss they slowly worked on peeling away each other’s clothing until they both lay bare. Arthur grimaced slightly at the thought of the carpet they were lying on but was distracted by Eames rolling them over and then twisting Arthur more so that he lying on the discarded suit jackets on his stomach. He felt his hard length being pressed into the soft material as Eames began running his fingers curiously over Arthur’s back and ass, causing him to groan. “What are we going to use…?” he saw Eames reach into one of the suit’s pockets, “You have got to be joking.”
“Well this is a dream,” Eames smirked as he held a small tube of lube before coating his fingers and slowly preparing Arthur while running his free hand over Arthur’s smooth skin, mapping his body thoroughly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realized enough to hit the ‘stop’ button, freezing the elevator between floors.
Arthur swallowed nervously; finally ready to admit this to himself and to the man who was making his nerve endings spark. “I wish it wasn’t.”
Eames’s eyes sought his in the mirror and Arthur saw them widen in surprise before softening. Then he watched as Eames leaned over him, fingers still moving at a slow pace, and kissed his back between his shoulder blades. Arthur never thought a gesture like that could be so…loving, but when he saw Eames’s face as he pulled away he felt his heart flutter. “I promise that as soon as we find a bed to ourselves in reality I will make this far more than just a dream.”
Arthur smiled despite himself at those words. He was not used to this warm feeling inside him but he also didn’t mind it. Eventually their gaze broke and Eames returned his focus to preparing Arthur. It wasn’t long before Arthur wanted much more than fingers. “Are you planning on doing that all day?” Arthur muttered darkly, thrusting himself back onto Eames’s fingers with a clear message.
“Patience, love,” Eames chuckled, pulling his fingers out and coating his own twitching member excitedly. Then he grasped Arthur’s narrow hips and pulled him up onto his hands and knees. As he positioned himself and slowly pushed in he watched Arthur’s face in the mirror’s reflection, watching for any signs of pain. But all he saw was a flash of impatience so when he was all the way in he pulled out and pushed back in immediately.
Arthur moaned, voice low, as he watched his reflection being fucked in an elevator. For a second he wondered what he was thinking but then Eames hit a spot that made him gasp and scrap his nails along the mirror, looking for something to grab onto. Eames continued moving at a hard, steady pace with a grin of triumph, aiming for that spot again. When Arthur finally recovered he met his own dark eyes in the reflection. He wanted this and he was taking it without regrets. That is what I’m doing, he thought solidly.
With this realization he finally let himself go, pushing back to meet Eames’s solid thrusts halfway to make him sink even deeper than before. This caused Eames to throw his head back and groan throatily as he gripped Arthur’s hips harder. Arthur knew that if this was reality he would have bruises the next day. The thought made him excited for what would come after this dream was over, thrusting back harder.
When Eames found that bundle of nerves again Arthur grunted, gripping the material of a suit jacket so tightly that the seams began to tear. Immediately Eames shifted his angle, suddenly hitting that spot almost every thrust. Arthur felt himself clenching around Eames’s heat, the shocks of pleasure causing his entire body to tense. This in turn caused Eames’s pace to quicken while he panted heavily.
They were beginning a vicious cycle without realizing the effect it was having on the dreamscape. The lights began to flicker and the elevator began to tremble, but all they could do was push into each other with everything they had with no care about staying quiet; instead letting the other hear the pleasure they were feeling.
Eames leaned over Arthur, hips moving without a steady pattern anymore. He reached around to stroke Arthur in time with his movements with one hand while he placed the other sweaty palm on a mirror for balance. He placed short kisses and bites down Arthur’s spine as best he could between continuing his movements and trying to breathe.
Without any warning beyond a desperate gasp from Arthur, Eames felt Arthur’s come paint his hand and Arthur clench around him. He groaned against Arthur’s shoulder, burying himself deep with one final thrust before reaching his own glorious end. His hips continued thrusting shallowly at their own accord, spilling himself deep inside Arthur.
He looked up, watching Arthur’s expression in the mirror. That was the second they heard an ominous twang sound, metal cable snapping apart, and the elevator slipped away beneath them. The freefall jolted them awake and suddenly they were back in the hotel room, Cobb reading a book over by the window. They both caught each other’s gaze, shocked, as their breathing slowly returned to normal. “It actually worked.”
Cobb, having heard the voice, looked up from his book, “You’re back early.”
“I ah—managed to make Arthur lose enough focus to drop the dream,” Eames smirked.
“That’s impressive,” Cobb bookmarked his page and walked over to help them clean the needles and put the device away. “Did you figure out a way to keep it from happening during a job?” he asked, looking over at Arthur curiously.
“Yeah,” Arthur nodded, maintaining a neutral expression. Just don’t have sex with Eames on a job, he thought to himself.
“Well that’s good,” Cobb smiled, clearly impressed. “I bet you two are glad that you’re finally done with these trials.”
“Oh I don’t know...” Eames caught Arthur’s eye with a hidden smirk.
Arthur shrugged, having a difficult time fighting down his own smirk, “A little more practice would never go amiss.”