Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/213472.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      No_Archive_Warnings_Apply, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Inception_(2010)
  Relationship:
      Arthur/Eames_(Inception)
  Character:
      Arthur_(Inception), Eames_(Inception)
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_College, Clubbing, Frottage, Kink_Meme, Plot_What
      Plot, Public_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2011-06-19 Words: 1647
****** Action Painting ******
by tessykins
Summary
     Written for this prompt at the inception_kink_meme:
     Arthur's friends are convinced he doesn't have enough fun and talk
     him into attending the DayGlow party at a local club. While trying to
     blend in at the bar, Arthur sees the hot TA--Eames--that he had a
     crush on the previous semester walking toward him, his bare torso
     already smeared with body paint.
Paint was flying everywhere like some sort of demented Jackson Pollack. Neon
flying up from drums and shot from cannons in bright blasts of color. People
with squeeze bottles shooting them off, streams of paint splattering over the
crowd.
Bass was pounding in Arthur’s ears, sweat sliding down his back. Some pop remix
was blasting from the club speakers, bouncing off the concrete walls of the
club. The crowd of dancers rolled like waves, white clothes and tan skin under
the black lights. Arthur couldn’t really believe he was in the middle of all
this. He desperately wanted to cut and run; the alcohol singing in his blood
and Ariadne’s arm hot and sweaty around his waist the only things keeping him
at the new club’s opening event.
Well, almost.
About ten minutes ago, Arthur spotted Eames across the club. Eames the
deliciously gorgeous TA Arthur had had a crush on all last semester. The kind
of crush that led to uncontrollable blushing and inconvenient erections and
sharpness to cover it all up. And now Eames was here, shirtless and covered in
neon splashes of paint. Arthur wanted to leave but he also wanted to ogle some
more.
And then Arthur caught sight of Eames making his way across the floor. The
crowd parted for him like the Red Sea. Arthur’s breath caught in his throat.
There were those broad shoulders; the corded arms he wanted holding him down;
the lush smirking lips; the gray blue eyes…looking directly at Arthur.
“Ariadne,” he said, his throat dry.
Ariadne looked up and then over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” she said. She let go
of him and spun around. “That’s Eames.”
Arthur nodded silently. His flight response kicked in and he stepped back a
pace but the surge of the crowd pushed back against him, pushed him forward
even.
Eames grinned at them both. “Hello, lovelies.” He looked back at Arthur, eyes
filling with a banked heat. “I remember you. You were in my class last
semester. Arthur, right?”
Arthur fought the urge to just gape at Eames. “Yeah,” he said. “And you’re
Eames.”
Eames’ grin grew wider. “Of course you remember me,” he said. He turned that
cocky, charming grin on Ariadne. “Is this your girlfriend?”
Ariadne let out a bark of laughter and Arthur flushed. “Uh, no,” he said. “This
is my friend Ariadne.”
“Nice to meet you,” Eames said, raising his voice to be heard as the music
spiked. “Do you mind if I steal your friend for a while? Catch up on the old
times of last semester and all that?”
Ariadne shook her head, a conspiratorial grin lurking at the corners of her
lips. “No, go ahead. I’ll go find Dom.” Her grin turned positively filthy. “You
two enjoy yourselves now.” She disappeared into the heaving crowd, waving
behind her.
Left alone with Eames, finally, Arthur almost wanted to beg Ariadne to stay. He
was anxious, terrified; his heart was pounding in his chest.
Eames hooked two fingers into the belt loops of the jeans Arthur’d worn to save
his tailored slacks. He tugged Arthur toward him. “Dance with me?”
Arthur licked his lips nervously. “Yeah,” he said.
Eames’ smile was relieved as he slid a large hand around Arthur, resting it at
the small of his back. Arthur sighed and melted against him. One of Eames’
thighs slid between Arthur’s, the muscled width spreading his legs. Arthur
resolutely did not think about that, about how much bigger Eames was than him,
about how insanely hot that was. Eames other hand palmed Arthur’s hip, fingers
dwarfing the bone.
Arthur slid his hands up Eames’ chest, feeling the smattering of his chest
hair. He finger painted in neon smears.
The music changed, beat throbbing and Eames met Arthur’s eyes. The bass pulsed
through Arthur’s body and he pressed against Eames’ body, hips swaying. Eames
choked back a groan and his hand slipped down to Arthur’s ass; he grabbed
tightly, pulling Arthur up the width of his thigh.
Arthur moaned and dropped his head back, exposing the length of his throat.
Eames groaned and tucked his head in the crook of Arthur’s neck and shoulder.
Then he started talking in that voice; that low, gravelly voice that ruined
Arthur’s concentration in every study session. “I noticed you last semester.
Couldn’t help but notice you. You’re lovely, Arthur.”
Arthur absolutely did not make a girly noise and grind against Eames’ thigh.
Eames chuckled, using his grip on Arthur’s hips to spin him around, pressing
them back to front. There was a strong arm wrapped around Arthur’s waist and a
heated body pressed against his spine. They swayed together, Eames half-hard
against his ass. Arthur reached back to wrap a hand around the back of Eames’
neck.
Eames slipped a hand up under Arthur’s thin tshirt. Arthur gasped and his
stomach twitched under his fingertips. Eames lips grazed against his ear,
breath hot and damp. “I’d see you in class, sitting there in your perfectly
tailored pants and waistcoats, and all I’d want to do was defile you. I wanted
to stretch you out over my desk and fuck you till you screamed.”
Arthur ground back hard. “I barely got through that class because of you.” He
turned around to face Eames again. He was hard, pressing against his zipper. “I
couldn’t stop staring at you, at your arms, at your mouth. And then you’d start
talking and I’d just sit there hard and aching.”
Eames grinned, teeth sharp and glinting in the black lights. He looked down at
Arthur’s shirt, once white and now randomly smeared with color. He ran gentle
fingers under the shirt and over Arthur’s skin, slowly pushing the shirt up and
over his head. Arthur let the shirt drop to the floor, immediately forgotten.
They pressed together, bare chest to chest. Paint slicked between them,
smearing with sweat. Arthur was a mirror image of Eames, the bright colors
transferring. An instant post-modern masterpiece made by the heat of their
bodies.
Arthur looked down at his painted chest and gave up on propriety for the night.
He wrapped his hand around the back of Eames’ neck, fingernails digging in, and
dragged him into a kiss. Eames sucked at his lower lip before licking softly
into his mouth. Arthur huffed out a frustrated breath and took control. It was
harsh, slick, hot. Arthur bit at Eames’ lush lower lip as he pulled away for
air. Eames obviously had no such need as he immediately started pressing wet,
sucking kisses to Arthur’s neck.
Eames’ hand slipped down his back, dipping underneath his waistband. Fingertips
brushed his ass, a finger rubbing up and down his crack. Arthur gasped, rocking
his hips back. “Fuck, I want you,” Eames said, his eyes dilated.
“Yeah,” Arthur agreed. “I want you to fuck me.”
Eames made a little wounded noise in the back of his throat. His hips bucked
against Arthur’s. “Want to take you back to mine, darling, but I doubt either
of us’ll make it that far.”
Arthur rolled his hips against Eames, gasping as their cocks rubbed together
perfectly. “Now, let’s do it now. Come on, no one’ll care.” Arthur throws his
head back, hips moving shamelessly with the beat. His friends say he doesn’t
have enough fun or take enough chances—it’s the reason he got dragged out
tonight. They say that because they’ve never seen him desperate to get off.
Eames stuttered out a shaky laugh. “God, Arthur. Yeah.” The bass hit hard and
his hips swiveled into Arthur’s crotch.
They both groaned, their bodies falling into rhythm. Arthur breathed Eames in,
the smell of sweat and paint and sex. Eames grabbed his ass and pulled him
higher up his muscular thigh. “Fuck,” Arthur muttered, riding harder as the
thigh under his cock flexed.
The music throbbed and the crowd heaved. The air was thick and heavy, hard to
breathe. Arthur gasped, trying to suck in air that wasn’t saturated with sweat
and fumes.
Eames rocked against him, head falling against his shoulder. Arthur licked at
his throat, tasting the salty chemical tang. His fingers trailed over Eames’
bare chest, catching on hair and drying paint.
“You’re gorgeous,” Eames said and his hand insinuates itself between their
bodies, palming Arthur’s cock.
Arthur whimpered and his hips stuttered. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he
managed to reply.
Eames laughed and caught his lips again again, a hot wet kiss. Arthur pulled
back, unable to kiss anymore; breathless and slack-jawed.
Their hips rock, thigh flexing. Eames’ skin is damp and hard against Arthur’s.
The crush of bodies around them is like an embrace. Sweat breaks out on
Arthur’s flushing skin, making paint run. His eyes watered as he started to
shake apart with need.
Eames stiffened, coming with a snarled groan. Arthur caught his breath at the
splash of heat against his own cock. Eames gave a huff of laughter and pressed
a kiss to the corner of Arthur’s mouth, rubbing his hand harder against
Arthur’s crotch. Arthur’s back arched, Eames’ hand pressed in the dip of his
spine.
Arthur was practically vibrating with tension. He could feel the beat of the
music in his bones, in the base of his cock. He wanted to come so badly.
“Please,” he moaned.
“Arthur,” Eames answered and gripped him tighter.
Arthur came, splattering himself with white.
Eames grinned, pressing their foreheads together. He dragged a finger down
Arthur’s chest, swirling through rapidly drying paint. “Do you want to get out
of here, Arthur darling?”
“Yeah,” Arthur said breathlessly. “Wait, wait. I should tell Ariadne…”
Eames laughed. “Trust me. She knows.”
“Oh.” Arthur grinned. “Well, then. You should take me back to your place and
fuck me like I deserve.”
“Arthur,” Eames said, his voice dark and ruined. He took Arthur’s hand, finger
painting new intentions on his palm. “I will.”
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