>>55641
Okay, I love this <3

Dom/Arthur

Sometimes Cobb wonders if Arthur doesn’t dress up just because he knows how badly Cobb wants to dress him down afterwards. He knows he’s not supposed to, but god does he want to; wants to muss Arthur’s hair and pull him around by his tie and push his slacks down around his ankles, get his wrists caught in his jacket and watch him squirm.

Cobb didn’t think he was this violent, this demanding when it came to want, but, then again, look what he did to Mal. A stab of guilt goes through him and in his mind’s eye Arthur makes a needy, breathless sound.

It isn’t long before Cobb turns to his projections.

His Arthur is in a gunmetal grey suit, three buttons, and a silvery blue tie that Mal bought him as a thanks for being a good friend, but his Arthur doesn’t pull away when Cobb rolls the fabric around his fist, tugging Arthur into him. His Arthur is pliant, malleable. His lips shape to fit against Cobb’s mouth while he pulls their hips together. Cobb is greedy. He can be.

Mal is there, a coy smile on her face and a gun resting against her hip. Cobb is unafraid.

The tie is the first to go, sliding out of Arthur’s lapel like water. Arthur holds his hands behind his back obediently while Cobb ties them together, just another reminder that his isn’t real, that Arthur would fight and only a flimsy, pornographic projection would allow himself to be tied up with his own wardrobe.

“It’s okay, Dom,” Mal says soothingly. His Arthur smiles, soft, his cheek dimpling.

Cobb undoes the buttons along Arthur’s suit jacket, the seams of them unraveling under his fingers and the buttons themselves clacking to the floor. He pushes the jacket off Arthur’s shoulders until it gets caught in the tie knotted between Arthur’s wrists. His Arthur’s hair is all flicked out of shape by Cobb’s fingers. Slowly, delicately, Cobb pulls the tails of Arthur’s shirt out of his slacks, pushing the fabric up with his palms. He doesn’t think he’s ever actually seen Arthur’s shirt untucked before. He drinks up the sight until Arthur says his name, frustrated.

Arthur’s hips roll when Cobb pulls his belt from its loops, and Arthur’s slacks slide down his hips, baring the edges of an undershirt and warm skin, literally made for Cobb to dig his fingers into until Arthur hisses.

“Sorry,” Cobb says reflexively.

“Again,” Arthur insists.

Cobb moves his fingers to the tented front of Arthur’s slacks, the button and zipper falling off under his fingertips. He watches the slacks fall, his fingers mapping Arthur’s stomach while the fabric slides down Arthur’s legs. They catch at the projection’s knees and his Arthur brings his legs together with a groan, urging them down. Arthur nearly stumbles over them getting to his knees.

His Arthur rests his head along Cobb’s inseam. He can feel a hint of Arthur’s stubble through his slacks, pricking at his thigh. Cobb’s breathing sounds loud even to him, rough and unsteady. His hand is in Arthur’s mussed hair and Arthur’s eyes are closed. He looks in ecstasy, like sex itself.

“Dom,” he breathes.

Cobb feels the groan rumbling through his chest more than he hears it, too busy fumbling down his own zipper, thumbing his belt open, watching Arthur lick his bottom lip like a starving man. Arthur swallows him down, the head of his cock hitting the back of his Arthur’s throat, dispossessed as he is of real Arthur’s oversensitive gag reflex. He hums, the vibration nearly making Cobb’s eyes roll back into his head. For a second, he wishes he could feel like this forever; before he realizes that he can. Arthur doesn’t have to sleep or eat or even breath if Cobb puts his mind to it. He doesn’t have do anything but kneel here, half dressed like an opened present, and let Cobb fuck his mouth for an eternity.

The thought is terrifying, intoxicating.

Cobb wonders who put it there.

>>55547
This world needs more Eames/Saito. Personally, I felt it way more than the Eames/Arthur thing.

>>55679
I feel the same way. There were a lot more "slashy" scenes in the movie between Eames and Saito than there were between Eames and Arthur.

Thank you for sharing this. So hot, and the last line really got me. Guhhhh the world needs more Cobb/Arthur.

>>55679
Fans are racist.

>>55716
Hence the ignoring of Yusuf.

>>55716
Nah, it's because Arthur and Eames stole the whole show, incepting us in the process.

>>55722
Yusuf was ignored in the actual ad campaigns. They didn't make a movie poster for him, he didn't appear in the trailers..

>>55754
The actor isn't a well known actor so they naturally wouldn't put his name on any posters. It's partly racism, yes, but mostly marketing. If he were in a film with other unknowns he would have been on the poster but since the movie was starring Leonardo DiCaprio it's expected that he wouldn't be present on the posters. In the end, your name will be on a poster because of the blockbusters you've starred in and the Oscars you've won, not of you actual involvement in the movie.

>>55757

True that. Pretty much the reason Ken Watanabe got more promotion even though the importance of their roles was pretty much equal (well, maybe slightly less for Yusuf).

Not technically porn, but this pairing needs to happen in some form.

Also, the title was, "Um, Uncle Peter?"

And this may be a repost, but have it anyway.

>>55798
I love it

>>55799

i love this, but the way everyone keeps drawing eames with tom hardys tattoos kind of drives me crazy

>>55798
A dozen times yes!
The puffy lips pairing needs to happen!

>>55820
I don't know, I don't think it's particularly far fetched. If they're going to have Eames with tats, they're going to be the same ones as Tom Hardy's.

>>55680
I...don't think we were watching the same movie. More? Do you mean Eames actually caring and not ignoring Saito as he's bleeding? Saito/Cobb i saw through the whole thing.

>>55722
Yusuf is obviously too busy fucking his chemistry set and the sleeping people in his basement.

>>55820
Only tat that bothers me is the face. Like it's watching...

I keep waiting for someone to draw Eames with a loaded dice tattoo. /pointless bump

>>55820
You have no idea how much I'd like to NOT draw the damn tattoos. Bane of my existence. (It's not like you ever see Eames' having any.)
But, yeah.

>>55878
I love this.

>>55878

Oh my god I can't stop laughing.

OH MY GOD.
MAKE IT STOP AHAHAHAHA

>>55856
>Yusuf fucking the sleeping people in his basement

Oh no. What have you done anon. This is the bad want everyone talks about.

>>55835
That's stupid, tattoos are very personal, Eames is NOT Tom Hardy, they haven't had the same life experiences and they don't have the same personalities, so there would be no reason for them to have the same tattoos. I hate it. It's so irrational.
And anyway, we all know that Eames has a butterfly tattooed on his lower back.

>>55909
I'd say that he has Spongebob tattoed there. Imagine all the awkward moments.

>>55909
I would say Eames is more likely to have NO tattoos than Tom Hardy's, but people ~creating the tattoos he has~ based on nothing, to me, is way worse. That fic where Eames had a fucking CROW tattoo, urgh, DNW.

>>55943
Oh well, you can all just shop out the tattoos if you dislike them so much.
(I'm personally just making sure by now that I don't add any of the writings that are somehow connected to TH's son, because those really don't belong on Eames. Unless Eames has a child in your headcanon.)

>>55855
There was also Saito/Eames in the lift when Eames was still the woman, and the way Saito acted when he mistook the real Peter for Eames disguised as Peter - or at least to me these had the slightest slash hints. Saito seemed to smile for him more.

But any Saito is good Saito, I wouldn't object to seeing him with Cobb either.

>>55872
so don't draw them if you don't want to. we never DO see eames shirtless and i think it's highly unlikely he'd have tattoos anyway. especially b/c he's a criminal and tattoos are a really easy way to recognize someone.

people can do what they want, if they want to draw the tattoos they can, but it looks more like rps to me than eames/arthur. to each their own, really, but that doesn't mean i agree that it makes any sense whatsoever.

About Eames and tattoos...
I'm kinda ok with the idea that he could have them. I view it as some sort of totem. After all he's not only breaking into someone's dreams but he also has to play various roles. I guess at some point he could get "is this really me?" kind of mindfuck and tattoos would help him to recognize himself in the mirror.
Plus, I find tattoos sexy.
That's all.

I too am a fan of the tattoos. And people always associate actors with the characters they play, it's inevitable. Like I believe Tommy grew up to be Arthur. (TRUEFAX)

>>55990
Other people Arthur could have grown up from: that kid in Angels in the Outfield. I'm weirdly fond of that one.

>>55992

or even Cameron from 10 Things I hate about you

Wow, did you guys really just spend like 20 posts arguing about tattoos?

Subject change. The story behind this picture is amazing, and I really wish someone would write something with it. (With credit to the artist, naturally.)

>This is a dream, obviously. Eames is a projection of Arthur's mind, and quite illustrative of Arthur's subconscious desires. Arthur, of course, doesn't want to face them -- since they are so different from reality -- and so he chooses to escape the dream by killing himself.

Arthur/Cobb schmoop-sex ahead.
------

One of the problems with a life revolving around dreams, other than the obvious dangers of losing any sense of reality, was the way it made sleep less of a necessity to recharge and more of an addiction, a compulsion. It would start with sleeping longer and longer - six hours turning into ten, turning into fourteen - and when those lengthy sleeps weren't enough, naps became a necessity too. Everyone knew the dangers, had read the reports of people literally sleeping to death, not waking for dehydration or to piss away toxins; the problem with sleep was that it felt necessary, and keeping one's colleagues from falling into weekend-long sleeping sessions was no different from looking out for their health by ensuring they were eating and drinking correctly.

Cobb trusted Arthur more than near any other man or woman he'd worked with, couldn't help but trust a man who once had the balls to say that yes, he was attracted to Cobb but no, he wasn't going to act on it so long as Cobb was engaged to Mal.

When that engagement turned into marriage and two beautiful children, Cobb hadn't known how to thank Arthur. Years later when Arthur was the one who helped him, almost more than anyone else, piece his life back together, any attempts to find words of thanks had to be swept aside. There was no point in trying to find words he knew couldn't exist.

After Fischer, and after finally, finally seeing his children again, Cobb had not so much invited Arthur to stay as demanded he come over; Arthur had a professional life open to him that would make others sick with jealousy, but his personal life was decidedly spartan in comparison. Between missions he was reliant on himself and himself alone, and while it encouraged the attention to detail and careful planning his position required, it didn't make for much of a life.

Cobb had approached Arthur after Mal's death before, but always as a wreck, a shell of a man, trapped in limbo with her in every way that counted. Arthur had turned him down, for both their sakes.

That Arthur should approach him with nothing more than a kiss at the breakfast table was typical of his friend, and he had answered "Yes" with another kiss in return.

Cobb had his children to wake for, had a life he looked forward to, but the sleep addiction was still a powerful thing and he could see it in his friend as much as in himself; often woke to find he'd lost the entirety of a morning and the better part of an afternoon.

Arthur slept deeper than he did, and waking him was a chore at first - at least until they reached an agreement.

Arthur was happy to be kept awake or woken through soft kisses and softer touches, painfully beautiful skin asking for delicate treatment even if Cobb had seen it battered and bruised. Sometimes it would hit him hard that even if he felt that he had seen Arthur shot, Arthur bore no bullet wounds. He would touch his fingers to forehead, throat, chest, stomach, thigh, all the places he had seen Arthur shot, places used to wake him - or to torture him, within the dream world.

Arthur would always laugh if he caught him marking out missing bullet wounds, would catch his hand and say, "I'm not dead yet," before opening up for another kiss.

Sometimes it wasn't so much about sex as incredibly lazy wrestling, bumping and grinding not always ending in orgasm, but the thought counted for enough - desperate and needy was something left behind years ago, and Cobb appreciated the fact sometimes touch alone was all they honestly wanted.

Arthur was beautiful enough that just having him there, drowsy and pliant and too tired to watch his mouth, too awake to resist teasing, just having him there was a privilege, one Cobb had never thought he would be allowed; he had loved Mal more than Arthur, he couldn't pretend otherwise, and he could never have loved Arthur unselfishly while still a wreck over her death.

Arthur had waited and waited and pieced him back together, and Cobb had somehow been rewarded for Arthur's patience, had become something whole again, someone who could roll Arthur onto his back and push into him and enjoy it without shame or guilt, someone who could wrap lips around Arthur's cock and suck because it was fun, not because it was a favour.

Arthur's every orgasm felt like proof he had not only fixed his life, he'd fixed the way he dealt with the people in it; Cobb didn't know how long he would have his point man as a colleague, but with Arthur's shirts hung alongside his and Arthur's shoes tucked beside the bed, it seemed he wouldn't have to worry about losing him as a friend for many years to come.

>>56037
I'm ashamed of how hard I lol'd.

Is there a fic to this >>55639 fine piece?

>>55948
Those bits didn't read a lot for me. Cute, yeah, but more like Eames knowing Saito is the only one around he could still fool for a laugh with his transgender shade, and Saito later thinking he's giving a conspiratory nod to his new friend/colleague/only person not too wrapped up in themselves to acknowledge him.

I see them as the kind of friends who willfully stay indebted to each other and party when they're in the same city. But yes: More Saito fucking things!

Eames can have tattoos even if he's a criminal. I think you mean, because of the KIND of criminal he is he just doesn't have them in plain view. Like the arms and upper chest ala Hardy would be a no-no. Well, unless he likes wearing lots of concealer for certain jobs. (C'mon, no dice? Not even on his ass? Pelvic bone? Fine.)

>>55992
Okay, please no. My inner child already hates my fucking guts. I've been trying to see them as two separate people for the past month.

>>56037
I too lol'd so damn hard. ......Yusuf is Professor?

>>56068
fffffffhahahahahaOH MY GOD. I need to see this.
Saito could be the Mayor?
And Ariadne as Ms. Bellum?

"You mean are we okay?" He can't hold back the laugh. "Oh yeah, Eames. We're fine. Just one of our old professional disagreements."

Eames' hand tightened around his bicep and dragged him behind a wall, screening them from the crowded street. "You know what I mean, Arthur."

"Yes, I figured you'd always wanted to do that."

"Quiet, darling. Play nice."

"Unfortunately for you, niceness isn't one of my natural traits."

"Yes, well, you're a nasty piece of work and there's no mistake about that."

He can hear people talking in the street behind the wall and eyes Eames' hungry expression. It's cheap victory, but he'll take what he can get. He doesn't have a heart to break anymore and it's time to play fast and loose with Eames'. The sonofabitch has tried to break his heart under controlled conditions in order to somehow have him to himself. Arthur doesn't know what they're supposed to do once Cobb is out of the picture-- what, gaze longingly at one another and never dare to do anything about it because Eames is bound by some sort of romantic code that forbids him to touch Arthur unless Arthur is exclusively in love with him? Fuck no.

"Was it good for you too?" Arthur asks, silkily, spitefully. Eames backs him up so his ass hits a brick wall, angry and horny and sexy as fuck.

"Knock it off," Eames growls, but his hand is slipping up Arthur's thigh and edging his shirt up, other hand undoing Arthur's belt buckle and shoving his pants down.

"You learn that move in MI6? Eliminating the target by fucking them to death? James Bond must be a real hero of yours, Eames."

"Shut up, Arthur," Two of Eames' fingers slicken the ring of his asshole and his heart pounds wildly. There's nobody on the street right now but someone can easily come along and catch them. Probably won't cause that much alarm. Cobb will probably just mistake it for one of his perverted fantasies again, and Mal's not going to kill him this time because he's already occupied.

Eames turns him around roughly and penetrates him--to be honest, rather painfully--as Arthur leans back against the wall, spreading his legs for balance and steadying himself with his hands against the wall. He likes Eames' cock, he decides--it's long and slim and prods alert around inside him like a blade, sharp as his tongue, which was flickering over the shell of his ear. His hand is tightly woven into Arthur's hair, turning Arthur's face to him as he kisses him and fucks him, steady and deliberate.

"This what you been missing, darling?" For all his physical steadiness, Eames' voice is rough at the edges, masked clumsily with bravado. "Is this what he used to give you?"

"You'd never know," Arthur hisses, resenting him for not being Cobb. It doesn't matter that Cobb is a faithless, stupid bastard who broke Arthur's heart to be with Mal. Arthur still rememberes the fevered, deep-down dirty lovemaking--doing it so very slowly and making each stroke of his cock last a lifetime, watching his face flush and his hot, delicious moans turn to desperate pleas as he begged for Arthur to fuck him.

"I need to know..."

"Really?" Arthur braces his hands on the wall firmly and pushes himself firmly down onto Eames, wanting to be more deeply skewered on his lean, hard cock. He wants to piss him off some more so he'll do it harder, like the rape he assumes that Eames wants it to resemble--a strong, angry quickie against the wall in the dark places of Cobb's mind.

"Yes," Eames pants. "Now hurry the fuck up, will you?"

"Oh--you really want to know, don't you?" Arthur teases, a nervous laugh threatening to resurface. Vindictively, Eames slams into him with a deep, painful thrust that slips back slowly, scraping over his prostate and making him jerk and buck and need to come so badly it hurts. He wants to moan but manages to keep the sound in his lungs, the scream staying silent for now.

He clenches his muscles around Eames' dick, triumphant when he sees Eames' teeth sink into his underlip at the sensation. "All right, Eames--he was hot. Electric..." Eames thrusts angrily into his deliberately resisting muscles. So tight, so goddamn fucking good. The bespoke fabric of his shirt feels like a second skin as the hem of it brushes against the head of his swollen cock. One of the better qualities of dreamscape clothing is that at least it moves the way you want to.

"--he'd do anything in bed--"

Another fierce stroke. What would really make him angry? He grabs at Eames' hair, hoping to get enough of a handful to tug. God, he still smells the same as before, like the first time Arthur met him, stinking of old money but insisting on a cheap woodspice cologne that had never been changed for an upmarket designer fragrance.

"--best fuck of my life--"

Eames' hand closes tightly over his dick, the first time he's done so, surprising him. "Yeah, right..." He squeezes, pushes, dragging Arthur closer to the edge.

"Better than this..."

"Good boys don't lie," Eames snarls, driving his cock in so hard that it's like being split in two, twisting and tugging his dick. Arthur holds back the words because he doesn't dare voice what's going through his mind.

...notbetternowaynotlikethissogoodEamesgodfuckme... "Hypocrite! Bastard fucking sonofabitch..."

He pants insults at him through clenched teeth, because damned if Arthur is going to show him just how much he's enjoying this. Let him think Cobb would always be the better fuck. It'll make him try that little bit harder.