madsmurf93 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
madsmurf93) wrote2011-04-27 12:41 pm
madsmurf93) wrote2011-04-27 12:41 pm
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It just doesn't get enough apperication [BOTTOM!EAMES FEST]
Hello Darlings,
This is Eames:
Not many people know much about Eames except for one thing...and it is very important.
It is his arse and this is his arse:
This is also his arse:
SEE IT MOVE!
AND MOVE SOME MORE:
ISN'T IT LUSH AND BOTTOMABLE?
You see, Eames is no top (sure those Bottom!Arthur fics will tell you otherwise) but instead he is a begging and slutty bottom for everyone and especially Arthur (ESPECIALLY ARTHUR!) Just in case you are wondering this is Arthur: 
This is Eames:
Not many people know much about Eames except for one thing...and it is very important.
It is his arse and this is his arse:
This is also his arse:
SEE IT MOVE!
AND MOVE SOME MORE:
AND SEE SOME MORE LOVELY ARSE:
ISN'T IT LUSH AND BOTTOMABLE?
You see, Eames is no top (sure those Bottom!Arthur fics will tell you otherwise) but instead he is a begging and slutty bottom for everyone and especially Arthur (ESPECIALLY ARTHUR!) Just in case you are wondering this is Arthur:
In conclusion, Eames is a slutty bottom for every male in the fandom and this is your chance to prompt that and fic it and graphics it, draw it and fanvid it and just do everything to it because EVERYONE NEEDS TO APPRECIATE BOTTOM!EAMES because, really, he is a delightful thing.
Arse pics courtesy of google and Bina <33 Mostly from Bina since Bina is a goddess amongst mortals - just saying.
NOW! GO WRITE, VID, GRAPHIC, DRAW AND PROMPT BOTTOM!EAMES WITH ANYONE AND EVERYONE!!
Loves Maddie <3
no subject
Prompt: Ariadne/Eames, she fucks him with a strap-on.
no subject
1/?
Eames goes to France when he hears through the criminal grapevine that Ariadne has been asking around about jobs. "Criminal grapevine," in this case, is Arthur, who heard from Cobb, who heard from Miles, but "gossipy friends" sounds less intimidating. Not that Ariadne is at all intimidated; she rolls her eyes at him, lets him in, feeds him cookies and strong coffee, and says, "I just asked where I could get a PASIV to keep in practice. You dumb boys, it's like playing a game of telephone with five year olds."
He flashes her his most charming grin -- she's worth the effort -- and replies, "I'm not a dumb boy. I'm a dumb man, darling."
"You wish." She scoffs and pours him more coffee.
=
When they hook into the PASIV he's brought, he teaches her to forge. She's good with buildings, and in Eames's experience, that means crap with bodies, but it's something to do in the dreamspace that they can both enjoy. To his surprise, she's decent at it, swelling her tits into ridiculous proportions and shrinking to a twentieth of her size.
"One pill makes you larger," she sings, and grows her hair out until it drags on the ground.
They go under again and again, but not for very long every day. She's still in school, and he's eager to get back in the real world game, stealing and forging. While she goes to class, he sets up in her tiny living room, near her tiny window that gets the cool eastern light in the mornings. He remembers to put down a dropcloth before he opens his suitcase and starts setting up.
Every night over takeaway, she tells him about architecture and her thesis, and he tells her about the difference between a fake and a forgery, tells her about forging contemporaneously so that in a hundred years, the forgery will carbon-date positive, and no one will be able to tell the difference.
"You don't get any credit now, though," she points out, dipping her naan into his curry.
"Well, I do, love, but that's not why I do it," he replies, pushing his bowl of rice and lamb closer to her.
=
Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 2/?
It's only been a few weeks when one day, while they're under, she rounds her cheeks and darkens her skin and curls her hair -- and suddenly she's Yusuf, but with breasts. She can't get the voice right, although she keeps trying, even as they walk through the moors where Eames grew up and she builds skyscrapers that would sink if they existed in the real world.
They cross out of the moors and with one step are in Mordor; Eames shouldn't have stayed up late with her the night before watching The Two Towers. She laughs when he transforms into Arwen, complete with shimmery tears in his eyes.
"Do you think I could do Aragorn?" she asks with a gleam in her eye that is disturbingly similar to the one Yusuf gets sometimes.
"It's hard; you might get stuck in between and not be able to change again," he warns. "We'd have to wake up and then go back under."
She shrugs carelessly. It's one of the things he likes about her -- one of the things he's always liked about Arthur, too. It took her more than a few times, but nowadays she can conjure up a Beretta and shoot herself in the head quicker than anyone, easy as lying.
His brain shorts out when she gets taller and broader. As her face narrows and her hair straightens, Eames loses the scent of sulfur he's always imagined hangs around Mordor; as her clothes slowly change into Aragorn's leathers and sword, he loses Mordor itself, and then they're standing in an empty room, closed windows, too warm. Eames feels like the dumb boy Ariadne accused him of being when he first showed up at her door.
Eames is a thief and a forger and very much a criminal; he's murdered people in cold blood and self-defense both, stolen love and art and thoughts… but he doesn't like to be presumptuous with people he likes, be they friends or colleagues or, on one memorable occasion, the SVR agent attempting to arrest him. He's let her set the pace thus far; he hasn't made a move during any of the many moments between them when it seemed like she wouldn't be averse to moving their flirting along. But Eames said, "I just want to be fucked once by Viggo Mortensen" last night, and Ariadne heard, laughed, made a joke about Aragorn's big sword. And now she's him.
If Eames were less good at reading people, he'd be a mediocre criminal at best; Eames is not a mediocre criminal. Nevertheless, she's still Ariadne, and he wants her to make the first move. He doesn't want to take this from her; he wants it shared freely, an honest kind of stealing.
Ariadne looks around and grins, Viggo Mortensen's eyes crinkling, his tiny teeth gleaming. "This isn't what I was hoping for," she says. Her voice is still her own.
"You're missing a gap," he replies, and is delighted to hear that his voice still sounds even. He motions to where the second gap should be, and she squints while she moves the tooth. "When you get better, you won't go so slowly; just --" Eames blinks, and slips into Arthur's skin and one of the neat dark suits Arthur almost always wears in dreams.
"Nice," she says approvingly. Then she frowns. "I'm missing something else."
Eames raises one of Arthur's eyebrows. "What's that?"
She moves a hand down to her crotch and grabs, shaking where her cock would be. "Damn it." She sighs a little. "I really wanted to be perfect the first time out."
"Didn't you tell me you forgot the first stairs in your first skyscraper?" Eames teases. He lets his own voice slip through into Arthur's throat. "Everyone can't be me, darling."
"Okay, that's really hot," she says, laughing, and then she's herself again, jeans and T-shirt and sloppy hair. Eames stays in Arthur's body, though, while Ariadne creates a tall building with the fire stairs on the outside. It's easier to remember to be himself when he's someone else.
=
Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 3/?
"I think it's time for you to watch different movies," Eames says dryly when she melts into Robert De Niro, a nametag on her shirt proclaiming her "Neil McCauley."
"I'm trying to be the best criminal I can be, Eames!" She laughs and rubs her hands over her face. When she looks up again, she's Eames -- but younger, her own age. It's creepy, and he tells her so.
She sighs. "I still can't get the dick right, either," she says. "Like, not even at all." She blinks and is back in her own face -- quickly, neatly, perfectly framed by the setting sun of Eames's mind. He's pulled it from his memories of L.A., the smog turning the clouds neon.
He dreams up a pool and some lounge chairs and an icy, fruity drink. "If you want a dick, darling, there are more ways to get one than forging."
"I don't want you to fuck me," she says bluntly, lying down on her own chair, huge sunglasses now covering half her face. Then she's in shorts, and he can see her leg hair glinting in the sunlight; it's exactly the leg hair he'd been noticing when he slid the needle into her arm earlier. Practicing forging has pushed her mind into adding more and more details even to its image of her.
Eames feels a terribly embarrassing sense of pride in her welling up inside him. He pushes it away -- now is not the time for being soppy -- and offers blithely, "You can always fuck me."
Her head is turned, looking off into the distance, snow-capped mountains. "Which is more real --reality, because it's actually real, or dreams, because we can do anything in our own heads?"
He lets it go. He likes her, but he's not invested; her rejection doesn't even sting. Well, maybe it stings a little, but he'd always rather have a partner in crime than a lover. She's clearly looking for a specific answer from him, but instead of giving her the one she wants, he gives her the one he knows to be true.
"Get shot in the dream and you wake up; get shot in real life and you never dream again." He takes a long sip of the frothy pineapple concoction he dreamed for himself, and regrets not adding rum. When he looks over at Ariadne, she's got a Desert Eagle Mark VII pointed at his head, and then he's sitting up on her uncomfortable couch.
He slips the needle out of his arm and detaches it from the canula. It needs to be disinfected, but it can wait. He drops the needle into the plastic Coca Light bottle they’ve been using for sharps, and when he looks up, Ariadne is watching him.
"Am I getting this wrong?" she asks, leaning forward. She drops the needle and canula onto her scarred coffee table, and he winces, carefully plucks the needle up and drops it into the sharps bottle before answering.
"I don't think so." He feels strangely off-balance, not at all like himself. He wants to go back under, pull a forge, settle into someone else's skin. Instead, he forces himself to sprawl back, spread his legs; a deep breath and he has a smirk on his mouth; a moment later and he's not just posturing. That's always been why he's one of the best -- his ability to become something else, not just pretend to be it.
And then there's Ariadne, naked except for a harness. Her dick is big, bigger than Eames's, and a dark brown. Eames's mouth waters, and he slides off the couch, landing on his knees. She's got a condom in her hand and she offers it to him.
"I've never used this one with anyone else --" And he loves how she says "this one" because he knows that means he's in for a good time. "-- but if you want?"
He takes the condom and tosses it to the side, and it lands on the table next to the sharps bottle and the silver PASIV case, still open. "Maybe later," he says, and puts his hands over the harness to hold her close, lets her cock push against his mouth, push his mouth open, push in. Her hands in his hair tug, and he swallows her cock down until he can smell how wet she is.
=
Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 4/5
It hurts, and he wants more.
"Fuck me," he tells her. "Come on, please," and then he bites his lip.
"Beg," she says in a scratchy voice, and he does, his throat dry, the words catching -- but only because he heard her opening the condom, so he knows it won't be long. When she pushes her cock into him, holding his ass spread, he drops his head and closes his eyes. He thinks that the thrumming of his skin is a vibe in Ariadne's harness, but it's not -- he's holding his breath, and this is not a dream.
Eames comes all over her pale pink sheets, and collapses into his own spunk as she pulls out of him. Ariadne's breathless when she lies down next to him, her hair a cloud on the pillow and plenty of other clichés Eames would happily steal from literature, if only he could remember any of them. He turns his head to watch her roll off the condom and then peel the glove down over it. She drops the whole thing onto her floor, then runs her hand over her cock.
"Are you alive?" she asks, a smile curving her mouth, her cheeks pink.
"You must have abs of steel, darling," he says, and he knows he's missed the mark on a sated drawl when she giggles.
"Sure. You should make me come now," she tells him. "If you can move."
She keeps the cock on when he goes down on her; he doesn't bother with a dental dam, and she gets his whole face wet, sticky, delicious. She surprises him again when he realizes that she hadn't tucked a vibe into the harness at all; she's just turned on, she's just hot for her own cock, for fucking him.
=
Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
When she comes out of the bathroom, she's still naked, and she climbs on top of him instead of walking around to the other side of the bed. When she leans forward, her hair plops onto his skin and her nipples, hard and soft at the same time, press against his chest. She kisses him, just a brief brush of her mouth over his.
"My job is knowing people, so I'm a hard man to surprise." He shifts under her, and the hair on her legs pricks his thighs a little. "You just keep doing it," he confesses, even though he doesn't mean to.
"Maybe you just don't know me well enough yet," she says, and kisses him again. He takes it as an invitation to stay even longer.
=
She never does manage to forge a cock, but she figures out how to forge a strap-on, so she can fuck Eames while looking like Viggo Mortensen.
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
Re: Ariadne/Eames - she fucks him with a strap-on - 5/5
This fic is wonderfully sex-positive, and Ariadne's confidence is a big part of that. Eames digs the fact that she hasn't used "this one" before, and so do I. I was happy to see all the mentions of safer sex, including putting a condom over the toy. It's rare (and refreshing!) to see things like nitrile gloves, dental dams, or sharps containers in fic.