violacea | fic: for the job

So, a couple of weeks ago, I was browsing all the unfilled prompts over at

inception_kink, and this one caught my eye. I kept hoping someone else would fill it so I could read it, but eventually I just figured that if you want something done ... well, 'right' is subjective, but hey, this fandom needs all the OT3 fic it can get, as far as I'm concerned. ;)

Title: For the Job
Pairing: Ariadne/Arthur/Eames
Word Count: ~3,200
Rating: R
Summary: Written for this prompt. They wind up having to blend in with an orgy in a mark's dream.

She'd designed a hedonistic-looking den, but Ariadne hadn't actually expected the mark to populate it with an orgy. "We're never letting you be the dreamer again," she hissed at Eames.

"Not my fault," he said, switching from his guise as a nondescript business associate of the mark's back to his regular appearance. "Blame Arthur, he should have known this guy was this much of a pervert. Though," Eames added, watching the mark sandwich himself between two naked women, "I must say, I'm impressed." Ariadne elbowed him.

"We need a new plan," Arthur said. He removed his suit jacket and tie and hung them over a nearby chair. "Obviously, he's not taking any business meetings in here tonight."

"How do we get him to give up his security plans in the middle of all this?" Ariadne wondered.

"You guys think, I'm going to go make sure he doesn't have any surprises planted anywhere in his mind."

Eames raised an eyebrow at Arthur. "You really think this guy has a militarized subconscious?"

"Better safe than sorry."

Arthur disappeared through the door, leaving Ariadne and Eames staring at a plethora of sexual acts, some of which Ariadne hadn't actually known were physically possible. "They probably aren't," she muttered aloud. "Dream, remember?"

Eames ignored her in favor of watching a couple in front of him sink to their knees and begin to strip. A moment later, he visibly shook himself. "Okay. I can probably come up with a body that'll get me in there. What I do from there, I have no idea, but I'll think of something."

"Quickly," Ariadne muttered, as the projections slowly started to turn their attention to them. "We've been spotted."

"Go find a lucky projection to snog or something. I need a minute. I wasn't prepared for this."

"Prepared." An idea tickled at the edge of Ariadne's mind. An outrageous idea, one that caused her to start blushing before she even decided to use it. "Hey, Eames, I know how to do this." Before she could reconsider, she grabbed Eames by the shoulders and pulled him down to kiss him.

He responded far faster than she expected; a moment later, his tongue was darting between her lips. Ariadne let out an involuntary moan. She'd imagined kissing Eames before - whatever, she was a red-blooded heterosexual woman who worked with a couple of hot guys, she had perfectly normal fantasies, thank you very much - but the reality (dream?) of it was a little overwhelming, especially after he slipped his hands down to her ass and lifted her up to be nose to nose with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled back from the kiss, resting her forehead on his. "This is lovely," Eames said, a little out of breath, "but what are we doing?"

"Get me in close to the mark. Keep ..." She started unbuttoning his shirt. "Doing whatever. Blending in."

He bent his head to run his teeth over the skin on her neck. "Is that what you call this?" he murmured in her ear.

Ariadne shuddered. "Go. Just ... finish the job."

She bent to his neck and started to suck lightly as he began to walk to the center of the room. When her tongue swiped over the mark she made, she felt a vibration from his chest that made her tighten her legs around him. "Careful, love," he said, a little hoarsely. "Don't want to drop you."

They were close to the mark. "Put me down," she hissed. He loosened his grasp, and she slid down his body. When she was sure her legs would hold her again, Ariadne grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the mark. When she got to the couch where the mark was avidly watching two impossibly large-breasted naked women make out with each other, Eames wrapped his arms around her waist and slid his hands up under her shirt. She gasped when his thumbs brushed over her nipples. "Eames," she said in what was supposed to be a shocked voice, but somehow ended up being more of a breathy whine. She felt him chuckle into her hair.

Job, she told herself, and made herself ignore the feeling of Eames' body plastered against hers. She leaned towards the mark. "Excuse me," she said, deciding to use the breathy warble Eames had coaxed out of her. "Excuse me?" It would probably have been easier if she were naked - and larger than an A cup, quite frankly - but after a minute the man turned to her questioningly. "Do you have condoms?" she asked. She squirmed as Eames' hands roamed down her belly and under the waistband of her pants. "Because we forgot ... you know, protection."

She felt the change in Eames' body when he caught on. "It's important to be protected," he said over her shoulder, nipping at her ear. "Wouldn't want anything unwanted to appear, would we?"

One of the women in front of the mark reached down to fondle his cock - he was naked, and, well, it was a testament to how good Eames' hands actually felt on her skin that Ariadne didn't lose all interest in sex then and there. The mark groaned and closed his eyes, but waved a hand towards the back of the room. "In the office. Top desk drawer. Have fun."

Eames pulled her away - thankfully, Ariadne turned her head just as the female projection started to bend her head to the mark's cock. "Excuse me," she muttered, "I need to burn his genitalia out of my brain."

"I could give you an alternate visual," Eames suggested, pulling her tight to his body as he walked backwards out of the crowd of projections. She started to make a joke, but then she felt him hard against her belly, and her words disappeared. He bent down close to her ear. "Any time you want, just ask," he breathed.

Before she could respond, Eames walked straight into another body - Arthur. Ariadne took a shaky breath, expecting to have to defend her approach (this was for the job, just the job, right?). But when she looked up at Arthur, his eyes were dark enough to be almost black, and the look he tossed between Ariadne and Eames was something far different than disapproval. "Arthur," she said, intending to explain what was happening.

... but then, Eames grabbed Arthur with one arm and kissed him roughly, and Ariadne lost every thought that had been floating in her head.

Arthur didn't protest. She expected him to shove Eames away, or at the very most, to humor Eames and glare when Eames finally let him go. She never expected Arthur to grab Eames' face with both hands and thrust his tongue into his mouth. They kissed like they already knew each other's mouths ... which they probably did, now that she thought about it. Ariadne, still clinging to Eames, felt his moan vibrate throughout her body. She tried to pull away, but he held her firm against his side. When they separated, all she could do was stare. "Um," she said. "Wow."

Eames smirked at her. "Not our first time."

"Gee, really?" She rolled her eyes.

"Well, this is certainly one way to blend in." Arthur stepped in so that he was lightly pressed against both of them. Ariadne suddenly found it hard to breathe. "I assume," Arthur said, laying a hand in Ariadne's hair, "that we have a plan?"

"Office, top desk drawer," she replied, gesturing to the door at the back of the room.

"Good."

Without warning, Arthur grabbed her arm and pulled her out of Eames' grasp. His mouth was rough on hers, demanding surrender in a way Eames hadn't. And yes, she'd had fantasies about this as well, ever since a chaste kiss stolen inside another dream. Ariadne wound her arms around his neck and hung on for dear life, parting her lips and pressing as close to him as physics would allow. Somewhere at the edge of her awareness, she heard Eames murmur, "Oh, you gorgeous things."

When Arthur finally drew back, his mouth was wet and swollen, and he gave her a small, triumphant grin. "Now we're all even."

"Didn't know we were keeping score," she said under her breath.

"Job," Eames said, pushing Arthur's shoulders forward, which propelled Ariadne backwards. She stumbled a little, but Arthur caught her by the arm and pulled her back in to his body. Eames was nuzzling the back of his neck, and Ariadne leaned in to press a kiss to the hollow of Arthur's throat. Arthur made a small noise and tightened his grip on Ariadne's arms. Their motion was slow and halting, but Ariadne was unable (or unwilling) to pull away and walk faster, and Eames seemed similarly unmotivated to let go of Arthur's waist. Eames' hands brushed against Ariadne's belly, causing her shirt to ride up; his knuckles dragged against her bare skin, and she shivered.

When they made it to the door to the office, they broke apart, allowing Ariadne to open the door. She looked inside - two projections stood behind the desk, staring back at her. "Shit," she muttered. After a split second of thought, she plastered a smile on her face and half-stumbled through the door. Once inside, she started to pull her shirt over her head. Her back was to Arthur and Eames, but when her shirt was lifted above her head enough to obscure her vision, she felt hands (slender fingers - Arthur's hands) skim up her sides and finger the elastic band of her bra. She quickly pulled her shirt all the way off and tossed it aside. The projections were still watching them, but they were moving to the side of the room, out of the way. "It figures," she heard Eames mutter, "that he'd have voyeuristic projections." When Ariadne turned around, she saw that Eames had also shed his shirt; Arthur looked from Ariadne to Eames and back again, his eyes dark and glittery.

Job. Right. Ariadne started backing up towards the desk. Eames quickly took two steps forward and swept Ariadne off her feet, causing her to make an undignified squeak. She found herself deposited on the edge of the desk. Eames pressed his mouth to hers once again, and she instinctively wound her arms around his neck again, pulling him close. A moment later, she felt Arthur climb up on the desk behind her. She was half-aware of the sound of the desk drawer opening. Arthur dropped a couple of feathery-light kisses on Ariadne's bare shoulder, but she figured he was more occupied finding the plans they'd come into the dream to steal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the projections watching them closely, so she pulled Eames even closer, until he was bent over her, pinning her torso to the desk. They effectively hid Arthur's hands from the projections, but Ariadne was more keenly aware of Eames pressed heavy against her skin and the smell of his cologne, which shouldn't be so distracting in a dream, should it?

Eames' hands slid up on the desk, past Ariadne's head. She heard a quiet rustle - paper changing hands. Then, Arthur leaned over her and bent his head to Eames' shoulder. She heard Eames let out an oath when Arthur bit his skin lightly; Eames stood up and pulled Arthur farther across the desk, while Ariadne slid out of the way and found herself in possession of the security plans. That had been the plan all along - they needed to know the layout of the mark's office building, and Ariadne was the logical choice to decipher blueprints and floor plans. So, while her two companions manhandled each other on the desk (effectively blocking her from the projections), she bent over the plans and attempted to memorize them. It was hard to concentrate, though, when Arthur let out a strangled moan that sent shivers straight down her spine. She glanced up to see that one of Eames' hands had disappeared down the front of Arthur's slacks; she heard her own voice let out a high-pitched whine and quickly looked back down at the papers. She had a job to do. Really.

Luckily, the plans were pretty straightforward, and Ariadne committed the locations of all the video cameras and motion detectors to memory. When she slid the papers back into the drawer, she wondered how much time they had left. She couldn't really remember if they'd been in the dream for ten minutes or an hour. It was all very distracting, especially when Arthur made Eames stop whatever it was he was doing and slide back off the desk; he pulled Ariadne closer, until she sat between the two of them. Arthur leaned in close and slipped a finger underneath one of her bra straps. He pressed his lips to her ear as he slid the strap down her shoulder. "Got it?" he murmured. She made a noise of assent, and he grazed her ear lightly with his teeth. She shivered. "Just a few more minutes," he said. Of course Arthur would have kept track of the time.

She felt Eames at her back, and suddenly his hand was hot on her skin, resting high on her belly, then slipping lower and lower. "I have to say," he said softly, hooking his chin on Ariadne's shoulder, "this might just be the most pleasurable job I've ever worked." She didn't look down to see his face, but she could tell that he was grinning at Arthur by the lift of Arthur's eyebrows. And then Eames' hand skimmed the outside of her sensible slacks; he didn't bother to unzip them the way he'd undone Arthur's, but even with the fabric separating them, the heavy weight of Eames' hand between her legs caused a jolt of sensation that made her gasp. "Have to keep up appearances until the timer runs out," he said. One of his fingers moved in a small circle, and Ariadne squirmed in his grasp.

Arthur caught her chin in his hand and leaned down to kiss her. This time, it was surprisingly sweet, given how terribly obscene it felt to Ariadne, to be trapped between two male bodies, her own body inching ever so slightly closer to the edge with every tiny movement Eames made. "Oh, god," she heard herself say, her voice a barely audible croak-

-and then she was laying on a large hotel room bed, alone except for the mark, sprawled across the end of the bed at her feet. She pulled the IV out of her arm and looked over at Eames, who groaned in the chair next to the bed. Arthur was sitting up on the floor next to him. He pulled himself to his feet, but Ariadne noticed a distinct wobble as he put his arm out and leaned against the wall for a brief moment. That made her feel a little less ridiculous; still, she studiously ignored the dampness between her legs as she swung her legs off the bed. "Quickly," Arthur said, now steady enough to round the bed and remove the IV from the mark's wrist. "The sedative will keep him out for a little while, but we can't be sure for how long."

"At least we know he's having pleasant dreams," Eames said as he stood. His hand grasped Ariadne's elbow when she stood and swayed. "Careful," he murmured. She felt her blush all the way down her chest.

They drove their rental car back to their own hotel in silence; Ariadne could feel both men's eyes on her periodically, but she refused to turn her head to see what their eyes held. After a while, she decided to distract herself. "Give me your notebook," she said suddenly to Arthur, who was driving. He gestured to the glove compartment. She spent the rest of the drive scribbling notes on everything she remembered from the security plans. At least they'd managed to complete the job.

At the hotel, she handed the notebook back to Arthur and left the two men standing in front of the door to Arthur's room. She'd nearly reached her own door when Arthur's voice stopped her. "Where are you going?"

"To bed."

"Alone?" Ariadne turned; Eames leaned against the wall, eyebrows raised. When she just looked at him, he shrugged. "That's a shame. It was all your idea, wasn't it?"

"I don't ..." She stopped. "It was just ..."

Eames turned around and walked into the hotel room. Arthur continued to stand in the doorway, watching Ariadne. "Just business?" he filled in.

"Well ... yeah, I guess ... I mean, I know you guys are ..." She gestured towards his room inarticulately. "That's fine, but I'm not ..."

"Not what? Finish a sentence, will you?"

"Fuck off." It felt like every nerve in her body was sending sparks up and down her skin; she crossed her arms and rubbed her skin to try to alleviate the feeling. "You're not required to include me," she finally blurted. "It's okay. Really. I can take care of myself." Her skin flushed hot, as her brain fed her an image of laying alone in her bed, her hand between her legs, while Arthur and Eames fucked two doors down.

Arthur stared at her for a long moment; Ariadne was sure her skin must be entirely, unattractively crimson. "I'm sure you can," he said eventually, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards, "but you don't have to. Your call. But," he added, as he pushed the door open, "for the record, walking back into that room to see you two together was pretty much the hottest thing I've ever seen."

From inside the room, Eames' voice drifted out, loud enough that Ariadne was sure the entire floor could hear him. "For fuck's sake, Ariadne, just get in here."

Slowly, Ariadne felt herself begin to smile. "Is he always this impatient?"

"Always." Arthur held the door all the way open. "Come on, before he gets the idea to move this out into the hall. Having projections watch was more than enough exhibitionism for one day."

Ariadne was pretty sure she heard "prude" come from inside the hotel room. "I don't know," she said, walking up to him, "I thought it was kind of hot."

Arthur groaned, but he was grinning when he touched his finger to her nose. "Great, now I have to deal with two of you?"

"You're the one who offered. Too late to back out now."

"It would never cross my mind."

Arthur leaned down and claimed her mouth. A moment later, Ariadne felt a hand grab the back of her shirt and drag her inside the room. Arthur closed the door behind them.

They were two days late delivering the security plans to their employer. When asked for an explanation, Arthur just raised an eyebrow. "The extraction was more complicated than we anticipated. It took some extra time to decipher the information." He gestured back to where Ariadne was standing. "Thank her, she's the one who figured out how to retrieve the information in the first place."

Eames poked her in the side, but thankfully, Ariadne managed not to blush. She was, after all, a professional.

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From:

sparkfrost.livejournal.com

Jesus, that was crazy hot. Loved it!

From:

of breaking through a life overrehearsed

fic: for the job

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