angelgazing | What do you do when you think you've been a victim of inception?

Tom Hardy wants you to write porn. BOYS FUCKING IS NORMAL, YOU KNOW, WHAT KIND OF JOURNALIST ARE YOU?

I DO NOT ARGUE WITH THE VALIDITY OF YOUR STATEMENT!

I do, however, argue with the validity of the idea of me attempting to write porn. I just don't see that ending well at all.

It's just that Arthur would be so, so very hot, if he were trying to hold himself back, pretending he wasn't going crazy with want, and then begging while Eames tried to Do the Right Thing and Not Take Advantage, while Arthur is practically crawling in his lap.

So what? If you'd have fun writing it, I say do it. \0/

Exactly. Eames is trying his best to wait it out, because he is a Decent Gentleman, so he goes over and stands by the wall (idk, maybe they're locked in a PYRAMID in a DREAM, and the sexpollen was part of security? you know--distract the intruders so they can't steal shit?) and shoves his hands in his pockets to keep them OFF ARTHUR. But Arthur comes over and GETS INTO HIS SPACE. And Arthur still knows perfectly well that he mustn't remove Eames's clothing without permission, but nobody said anything about his OWN clothes, and god DAMN the pyramid is WARM because it's fucking EGYPT. So he takes his shirt off, of course, that's perfectly sensible, Arthur is being PERFECTLY SENSIBLE about how much he wants to be naked right now.

Porn is hard. (...No pun intended.) (Okay, fine, that's a lie.)

This idea distracted me! I'm trying to do homework, and I just ended up writing, "the program runs suggestively." ::headdesk::

It's not, Eames laughs, it's not that he hasn't wanted Arthur since the first time he completely refused to flirt back. It's just that as much as he wants Arthur, he would also like to keep his bollocks, come the time that whatever is going on here wears off. Eames is a bad man, and he enjoys stealing things and lying and flirting shamelessly, but he is not so bad a man as to take advantage of a good mate of his to get what he's been wanting for so very, very long. And if Arthur could please, please, please, stop asking Eames to fuck him, that would be endlessly helpful and very much appreciated.

(So is Eames. SEE WHAT I DID THERE)

NICHOOOOOLE WHY AM I WRITING SEXPOLLEN COMMENTPORN?? I've never done sexpollen OR commentporn before! It's my first time. BE GENTLE.

Yeah, but, Arthur tries to explain, it's not like being high. He's still got control over all his mental faculties! He knows exactly what he's asking.

Eames snorts. "Like you've ever been high. I bet you came top of your class during your entire time at school including kindergarten."

"Almost every year," Arthur says, "because I skipped second and eighth grade. And of course I got high once, it was practically a requirement to graduate high school."

"Once. Oh yeah, you're certainly the expert. Look, I'm simply not fucking you while you're in an altered state of consciousness, I don't care what put you there. And that's that. Conversation over."

"So you're saying you'd fuck me once I'm sober?"

(I WISH I HAD THAT "I SEE WHAT YOU DID THERE" MACRO WITH COBB'S SQUINTY FACE RIGHT NOW.)

I'VE NEVER WRITTEN COMMENTPORN EEEEITHER! Or... porn of any kind, really, come to think of it. (Also, heh. That's what she said.)

(POV is also hard. Like Eames.)

It's just really difficult to stay still. Arthur feels like he's on fire. Eames wraps his fingers around Arthur's wrists, pulling Arthur's hands off of his shoulders--his eyes closed like he's the one in pain, when Arthur is so hard it hurts--and it's like he'd wrapped his fingers around Arthur's cock, and Arthur can't help but sway up to his tiptoes, trying to get closer. Eames drops his mouth open like he's got any idea, and Arthur's breath catches on a moan.

And he knows, logically, he knows he never would've done this. Never would've been panting for it, if it weren't for that compound. He's got sweat beading along his hairline, and he can't stay still. He knows exactly how to twist his wrist to break the hold, but it's the most Eames has touched him in the hours since this started, since Arthur had ducked his head and pressed his mouth against the place where Eames' pulse was suddenly racing, and breathed out, against his will, "Oh, fuck."

Arthur twists his wrist the other way, echoes the way Eames had grabbed him and steps forward. He pushes his mouth back there, that place under Eames' jaw where he can taste sweat and a blooming bruise. "Eames," he says this time, without meaning to at all, "Eames, please."

Eames wants to groan, but doesn't let himself. It gets trapped somewhere in his chest, rattles around and he can tell by the way that Arthur's mouth turns up that he knows, that he can feel it.

He should leave. Should let Arthur work it out of his system on his own, except that Arthur swears he can't. Except that Arthur's got his pretty brow all furrowed and his bottom lip bitten almost bloody from trying to control whatever this is. He should leave, because it'd be easier for him, but Eames can't seem to walk away from Arthur, when he looks so much in pain. Eames has never had never had difficulties saving his own hide before, but he's also never had an Arthur whose hair is all mussed and whose shirt is all wrinkled, and who keeps stepping toward Eames and then shuffling back again.

"I won't," Arthur says, and stops. His hands are shaking, fingers trembling worse that Eames had ever seen, and it would take a much stronger man than Eames has ever been not to grab them, not to squeeze them encouragingly.

"I know, darling," Eames answers, and even manages to keep the sadness out of his voice. Arthur shakes his head, quick, almost child-like with how vehemently he's trying to deny it, but Eames does. He knows Arthur, once it's worn off, once the drugs are out of his system, that Arthur won't, that Arthur would never.

Eames is many things, but daft is not one of them.

"I won't be mad," Arthur says.

"You are mad."

"I won't be angry," Arthur says, his grip on Eames' fingers nearly vice-like, but his voice so, so very soft.

Eames lowers his mouth to Arthur's ear so Arthur will have to concentrate to hear him whisper. "All right, love, I can see we're at a standoff. Why don't we compromise? I'll give you some of what you want, and you'll be good and hold off on anything else til it's worn off. If you still want more then, I promise you, we'll go somewhere as soon as we get out of here and make it happen."

"Deal," says Arthur, almost before Eames has quit talking.

Eames puts a hand on Arthur's chest to hold him back just a little longer. "One more thing. You let me handle this. If you try to push me, deal's off and you'll get nothing else, sober or not. So don't push, darling. You know I don't make empty threats."

Arthur, Eames can see, is making a heroic effort to compose himself. "You have my word," he says, and holds very, very still.

I would like to cast my vote on this subject: MY VOTE IS "MFY" \o/

Also the thread above is pretty spectacular! *wants more*

I COULDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT BECAUSE MY BRAIN WAS ALL: "HEY, HEY, YOU SHOULD WRITE SOME ARTHUR/EAMES SEXPOLLEN WHERE ARTHUR IS BEGGING AND NO ONE'S LIFE IS HAS HARD AS EAMES. Y/Y?" And I was all, "OMG NO BRAIN, SHUT UP. I HAVE TO BE AWAKE IN THREE AND HALF HOURS. >:( " AND MY BRAIN WAS ALL, "AND IN THE MORNING, EAMES WOULD WAKE UP AND BE TERRIFIED THAT IT HADN'T WORN OFF, AND THEN HE'D BE TERRIFIED FOR HIS MANHOOD, BECAUSE IF ARTHUR DOESN'T KILL HIM SURELY COBB WOULD, AND FAILING THAT HE COULD TOTALLY FIND A SWORD TO FALL UPON BECAUSE ZOMG." And I was just like, "...I fucking hate you, brain. And I am not turning my computer on again until the sun is actually in the sky." And my brain was like, "THAT'S JUST A COUPLE OF HOURS AWAY!" And I was like, "I know, that's my point, you asshole."

Also! Also! Welcome back! Did you have a nice vacation?

I know you need your sleep, BUT I LOVE YOUR BRAIN SO VERY MUCH YOU DON'T EVEN! ALSO, YOU HAVE TO WRITE IT BECAUSE YOU GAVE US A TASTE AND NOW THERE IS CRAVING FOR THIS STORY TO ACTUALLY EXSIST!

Haaaaaaaai! I had much fun and also burned myself to a crisp on the beach, but it was all good because there where lots of tiny kids playing nurses using pieces of bark and algae as bandaids. The burn got charmed away with adorableness <3 I even manage to write a bit of fairytale, fibish the 3rd Temeraire book and also to sign up for inception_bang. I declare this holiday a success \o/

It's just that I feel so betrayed! My brain clearly does not have my best interests at heart! Stupid brain. I think it likes you more than it does me.

Someone on the internet has totally written Arthur/Eames sexpollen. I read one of them, even, but it was not what I wanted. Arthur was not begging and Eames was not conflicted by the ramifications of sleeping with someone under the influence of magically sexpollen. And without those two things happening, I don't know, I just find it a lot less hot. I mean, Arthur! Can you imagine him trying to hold himself back, and just not being able to, and he doesn't want Eames to call Yusuf, Christ, he just wants Eames to fuck him, it's not like he's asking that much.

Aw, I'm glad you had fun! And I can't wait for the fairytale thing. Not even kind of at all. Sadly, sadly, it has come to my attention that every single word I have written for the bakery thing sucks. It's a terrible, terrible thing, when you realize a story you're writing is terrible in the middle of it. :\

I think it likes you more than it does me. I have nothing against it *g*

I'm totally with you on that one! If you take out the conflict both in Arthur and Eames, the story'd be borderline pwp; not that that would be a bad thing, but I want them to have some sort of characterization! I want the really awkward coffession of love under-the-influence/the-morning-after! It would increase the hotness level to untold heights! I still say you should deliver this to the fandom at large... then your brain would feel very appreciated and it would love you, too! :D?

I hate when that happens. I had to scrap a whole section of the fairytale because it was going on a tangent of its own. I'm sure that those words were totally awesome, though!

Well, it doesn't torture you all the time, does it? I am under constant attack. It hardly fosters a warm and comfortable working environment. Stupid brain. :p

I am all for PWP! It just didn't hit the characters they way I felt it should. And, you know, Arthur. Begging. I didn't realize this was a thing I needed in life, but apparently it just really, really is. And, and, and...

"I would," Arthur says, and bites his lip again, and he can't stop the way his hips push forward, in time with the sweep of Eames' thumb across his side. A gentle swipe, supposed to be calming but it's just making Arthur crazy. All he can think is how close Eames is to actually touching him while still completely refusing, even when Arthur's shirt is half-undone and he's straddling Eames' lap. He gasps, when he manages to buck just enough in Eames' grip that the pad of his thumb drags in a slow, torturous arc across the skin of Arthur's belly. "Fuck," he hisses, and somehow manages to hear through the rush of blood in his ears the way that Eames echoes it faintly and almost lost.

"I'd do it for you," Arthur tells him, finally, panting the words across Eames' cheek. Trying to direct Eames' hand to the open button of his trousers with a horrifying lack of success. "Come on, Eames, I'd do it for you."

And Eames laughs, again, like he did that time in the dreamscape when the mark's projections had gotten their hands on him and he was asking Arthur for a final kiss as Arthur pushed the barrel of a Glock into his temple. Eames laughs like he's tired. Like it hurts. And it just scrapes at Arthur in all the wrong ways, pulling out every shred of him that had clung to his reluctance to touch. Eames says, "That's hardly the same, darling, and we both know it," with a valiant effort at a smirk that falls flat somewhere around melancholy. "Wouldn't exactly take a drug to make me want it."

::clears throat::

I am getting ready to leave and go shopping, because I feel the need to spend money I shouldn't to relieve stress, and also get something with a lot of sugar that could masquerade as coffee. But I have some options for you, kk? I have a little over 4000 words on the bakery thing, and I told you I'd do my best to get it done for you and failed. So, so, I can a) try to work on the bakery thing this weekend or, b) try and write this sexpollen thing.

Also, I would be willing to trade the terrible unbetaed 4000ish words of the bakery thing that I have currently written for a peek at the fairytale thing. TRADE.

You get to decide!

Edited 2010-08-20 22:35 (UTC)

I firmly believe that is just your brain's way of challenging you to always better yourself :D

Begging!Arthur. Everybody should have some in their life, trufax.

*dies* How so awesome? How? *wants more*

I want both! How can you choose? But..uh... maybe you could wrap up the sexpollen one? You left me hanging on the one and I need more of it! The bakery one looks like it's going to be something epic and I wouldn't want you to rush it <3

And omg! *slaps handful of fairytale words on the table* TRADE! I AM ALL FOR TRADING IF I GET THOSE AWOSOME, AWESOME WORDS!
I could even slip in the doodle I drew for the first part :D

You are too, too kind.

Hahahaha. Wrap up the sexpollen one. You are hilarious. I can't figure out how to start it. Or POV. Do I do it from Arthur's POV, where he's desperate and trying not to show it? Eames' POV where Arthur is desperate and trying not to show it, and... Yeah, never mind, I just answered my own question. Eames offers just all kinds of conflict. Yummy, yummy, conflict.

YOU SHOULD EMAIL ME IMMEDIATELY SO THAT WE CAN MAKE THIS TRADE. IT IS THIS USERNAME AT GMAIL.COM

Edited 2010-08-21 20:38 (UTC)

I'm really not!

I BELIEVE IN YOU! And conflicted!Eames is ♥!

JUST SENT YOU AN EMAIL! Hopefully my horrible grasp of the English language/terrible writing skills combo won't kill your brain...

The last time I tried to write porn was probably something like 6 years ago. And even then it was terrible. I mean, terrible. And usually very vague.

The thing is, I just have this vision of Eames, the tips of three fingers buried in Arthur, panting against the sweaty small of Arthur's back while Arthur whines and tries to rock against his weight to get him deeper. And the sounds he's making, the heat of him, it's probably enough to make Eames come right then and there, but. But he licks the sweat off of Arthur's spine, slowly, one vertebra at a time, and tries to swallow down his want and keep his fingers steady, because this isn't for him. This can't be for him. He's a terrible man for wanting it to be.

Gmail is denying me access! It won't let me seeeeee. I WANT TO SEEEEE.

*dies again and again and again* *grabby hands* moar please

Gmail is stupid and changed the privacy settings without asking me >:( Try again now? if it doesn't work I'll send it again as an attachment

Arthur is burning up. His knuckles are white where they grip onto the bedsheets. The pretty flush of his cheeks is hidden, because he's got his face buried into the hotel pillow like he can't bare to to see, not anymore. He whines again, high pitched and it wraps around Eames' heart and tugs in the most distracting way.

"Hey, hey, hey," Eames says, his voice still rough, his mouth pressed just below and behind Arthur's ear, "shush, Arthur, I've got you, yeah? Said I'd take care of you, and I will, darling." He brushes his thumb across the back of Arthur's hand, hoping he'll release his grip before he hurts himself. "I'll take such good care of you," he can't help but say, breathless. "But I won't hurt you. I won't."

"I know," Arthur answers, grumpy and muffled by the pillow. He shakes Eames' hand off the back of his just to lace their fingers together. "Just--"

"Please." Eames closes his eyes tightly, rests his weight just a little bit more on the backs of Arthur's thighs to keep him still. "Just relax. Please."

Still I am deniiiied!

goddddddddddddd. I can't even. *rolls all over it*

Grrrrrr. Ok, let's try the ol' linky way (https://docs.google.com/document/edit?id=10Y6PPfbm-lESL-1rc7UGmtBWYHFIRUQSw-CufiRfXFw&hl=en&authkey=CKSfpeoL)!

OMG OMG OMG OMG THE NOISES I JUST MADE AT THE PICTURE COULD ONLY BE HEARD BY PUPPIES. THAT IS JUST OMG.

SO, SO ADORABLE. I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE REEEEST. ::FLAILS::

oh wait! I think I have resolved the problem! You should be able to see it now...

I have sent you an email with what I've got so far of the bakery thing. Except for the notes about scenes I've still got to write. And the rough draft outline of another scene, because I am horrified by it. But, but. OMG. Yours is SO CUTE. I CAN'T EVEN STAND IT.

NO NO NO YOURS IS THE MOST SPECTACULAR! OMG!!! BOYS! It's so amazing! How are you so effing talented? I've read it all two times already and I'm going for a third because omg! *flails* the hearteyes I'm making, you don't even know!

I've written part three and a draft of part four in my notebook! I'll type them tomorrow and also add the second doodle (which i drew last week but forgot to scan) (this fairytale keeps getting failier with every word I add, but at least I'm having fun...)

NO, OMG IT IS NOT BUT I'M GLAD YOU LIKE IT ANYWAY. ::HUGS::

YOURS IS THE MOST SPECTACULAR OF AAALL. IT IS SO ADORABLE! SO VERY ADORABLE!

ditto on all of the above. that's all.

...and I still don't have any Inception icons. *sigh* although this is my dedicated Inception icon.

I need at least a billion more Inception icons. I just keep using this one because then I can get distracted by JGL's mouth. ::stares for a while::

I do greatly enjoy that dude, you know.

Also, also, I'm ignoring your ditto on the grounds that you were mean to me. So there. :p

CRUEL. Both in the taunting me of JGL's mouth and your lack of willingness to bend to my needs and desires.

LIES. I'm like sunshine and puppies and awesome. Honestly, it's like you don't know me at all.

What do you do when you think you've been a victim of inception?

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