Inception Fic: Reluctant Surrender
Dec. 13th, 2010 01:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
azuremewTitle: Reluctant Surrender
Word Count: 1018
Pairing: Arthur/Fischer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Generally disturbing content mixed with fluff. Run-on sentences mixed with fragments. All the fault of being in Fischer's head. <3
Summary: Takes place during the later part of My Temptation and Salvation
Author's Note: This is me exploring the A/F of A/E/F because I agree with others that established relationships are a pain in the ass to write before you establish them as the writer.
There is darkness. Blinded. I thrash about, not knowing, confused. My arms are restrained. Bound. Tugging, pulling, I feel myself screaming. The burning in my lungs. No sound comes out. Silence. Utter silence. Arthur. Breathing hard, I am suffocating. Yet I try again. Arthur. Nothing. Left alone. I swallow thick this fact in acceptance. Thinking back to a time before. Another layer, there is a hand on my shoulder. Large, strong fingers. The smell of blood, cigar smoke, and cum. It burns, but I swallow it anyway because it is . . .
“Arthur!”
A hand grasps around mine, squeezing tight. There is warmth around me. Surrounding me. I am shaking still, covered in sweat, freezing cold. “Shhhhh . . .” he whispers into the back of my neck, and I shiver from his breath. “I'm here.”
I turn to see dark eyes staring back at me in as sleepy haze. He reaches up to touch my cheek, the back side brushing tenderly as I blink. It is only then that I realize I am bathed with more than my sweat. Salty, I breathe in with difficulty, clogged from crying out in my dreams.
“Sorry,” I whimper, and he pulls me in closer, his heart beating fast in my ear. Down the back of my neck, he strokes with a tenderness that loses my grasp on reality. Last I remember, in solid form, Arthur was here because of Eames, because they were in love, and I . . .
My head lifts, chin held, and a kiss wipes clean temporarily that notion. The smell is hardly pleasing, but our lives have not exactly been all that grand. We take what we can, when it happens, not caring, and if that is the only common ground we hold, I am willing to succumb fully. Tentatively, my tongue parts his lips against teeth, prying open to find his. His hand moves down my side, and I moan into his mouth. Hips react naturally to sweet caresses, moving against an equal response.
Consent leads to temptation, delving into words I wondered were real or a half-remembered dream. ”Because I think I love you, Robert . . “ My head lies against the pillow of a bed shared by two men and never me. He is on top, and I pull away. “Say you love me,” I whisper with uncertainty, for I am unsure if I can reciprocate such emotions anymore.
Fingers through hair, legs on either side of mine, his body so ready, so needing, that I feel his erection pressing into mine, his strength around me, that he could just fuck me. He could, but he looks at me and says it. “I love you, Robert,” and it's not to shut me up.
Wrapping around him, I anchor myself to him, letting him explore each line, every curve, each sound, with silk lips and soft hands. I am breathing hard beneath him, rising against him, as my legs are parted to explore further. Pressing inward, I pull back and fall into him. He takes only a few, my body willing yet so tight from the passing of time. “Hold on a second,” he tells me, and I sigh when he pulls off to go to his bag for lubrication.
The sigh is because stopping lets my thoughts take over, and I say, “Tell me why you're willing to do this.” I press my lips after, cursing inward for letting myself speak.
Arthur is just as surprised, raising eyebrows with a bottle of slick in his hand, uncapped. “Right now?” Nodding in response for my throat is tight again, my heart beating faster, my face flushed, he moves back down to his bag and pulls out a series of orange containers with white labels. “To sleep, sometimes,” he says, putting one away. “To think,” he adds for another but lets them all go. “I saw the signs, hints, and did nothing, and we almost failed because of it.”
“The inception?” I frown. “So this is all because you screwed up?”
“No,” he replies quickly, moving to next to me, no longer being forward, a man possessed by passion but something else I cannot quite understand. “Well yes, partly. But it's more than redemption. I find you attractive, Robert, strong, interesting . . .” He reaches out to touch my chest, and I intertwine fingers. “The drugs, they just show that I understand, but I want to show that even without them, I want to help you, I want to love you, if you'll let me.”
If I let him. I pause at that, staring into those dark eyes, unsure if I can, but I guide him down my belly and passed my cock that is still hard from his presence. Nodding again, he slicks his fingers and presses in, the coldness causing a sharp inhale as much as him. “Arthur,” I moan, trembling. “More.” He does so with a second, scissoring slightly to widen me in preparation to the thoughts that now overwhelm me, envelope me, consume me entirely with him.
Kneeling, he removes to pull me across him, my body twisting to the side so that my legs are still together. All that he is does nothing to stop the burning of the initial push, of him filling me and the “Fuck” that comes out of my throat. He is slow with each pass after until I can find enough composure to tug at my erection, pull with each push until I tell him to move faster, fuck me harder.
He leans inward to bite my ear, to breathe along my neck before pulling at it with teeth and suction that leaves it bruised and me shuddering. His hand touches mine, pushing it aside, to take full control. I fight him momentarily, the very last bits of the past telling me to not let him, to not use me, but I try because I think that I love him too.
Word Count: 1018
Pairing: Arthur/Fischer
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Generally disturbing content mixed with fluff. Run-on sentences mixed with fragments. All the fault of being in Fischer's head. <3
Summary: Takes place during the later part of My Temptation and Salvation
Author's Note: This is me exploring the A/F of A/E/F because I agree with others that established relationships are a pain in the ass to write before you establish them as the writer.
There is darkness. Blinded. I thrash about, not knowing, confused. My arms are restrained. Bound. Tugging, pulling, I feel myself screaming. The burning in my lungs. No sound comes out. Silence. Utter silence. Arthur. Breathing hard, I am suffocating. Yet I try again. Arthur. Nothing. Left alone. I swallow thick this fact in acceptance. Thinking back to a time before. Another layer, there is a hand on my shoulder. Large, strong fingers. The smell of blood, cigar smoke, and cum. It burns, but I swallow it anyway because it is . . .
“Arthur!”
A hand grasps around mine, squeezing tight. There is warmth around me. Surrounding me. I am shaking still, covered in sweat, freezing cold. “Shhhhh . . .” he whispers into the back of my neck, and I shiver from his breath. “I'm here.”
I turn to see dark eyes staring back at me in as sleepy haze. He reaches up to touch my cheek, the back side brushing tenderly as I blink. It is only then that I realize I am bathed with more than my sweat. Salty, I breathe in with difficulty, clogged from crying out in my dreams.
“Sorry,” I whimper, and he pulls me in closer, his heart beating fast in my ear. Down the back of my neck, he strokes with a tenderness that loses my grasp on reality. Last I remember, in solid form, Arthur was here because of Eames, because they were in love, and I . . .
My head lifts, chin held, and a kiss wipes clean temporarily that notion. The smell is hardly pleasing, but our lives have not exactly been all that grand. We take what we can, when it happens, not caring, and if that is the only common ground we hold, I am willing to succumb fully. Tentatively, my tongue parts his lips against teeth, prying open to find his. His hand moves down my side, and I moan into his mouth. Hips react naturally to sweet caresses, moving against an equal response.
Consent leads to temptation, delving into words I wondered were real or a half-remembered dream. ”Because I think I love you, Robert . . “ My head lies against the pillow of a bed shared by two men and never me. He is on top, and I pull away. “Say you love me,” I whisper with uncertainty, for I am unsure if I can reciprocate such emotions anymore.
Fingers through hair, legs on either side of mine, his body so ready, so needing, that I feel his erection pressing into mine, his strength around me, that he could just fuck me. He could, but he looks at me and says it. “I love you, Robert,” and it's not to shut me up.
Wrapping around him, I anchor myself to him, letting him explore each line, every curve, each sound, with silk lips and soft hands. I am breathing hard beneath him, rising against him, as my legs are parted to explore further. Pressing inward, I pull back and fall into him. He takes only a few, my body willing yet so tight from the passing of time. “Hold on a second,” he tells me, and I sigh when he pulls off to go to his bag for lubrication.
The sigh is because stopping lets my thoughts take over, and I say, “Tell me why you're willing to do this.” I press my lips after, cursing inward for letting myself speak.
Arthur is just as surprised, raising eyebrows with a bottle of slick in his hand, uncapped. “Right now?” Nodding in response for my throat is tight again, my heart beating faster, my face flushed, he moves back down to his bag and pulls out a series of orange containers with white labels. “To sleep, sometimes,” he says, putting one away. “To think,” he adds for another but lets them all go. “I saw the signs, hints, and did nothing, and we almost failed because of it.”
“The inception?” I frown. “So this is all because you screwed up?”
“No,” he replies quickly, moving to next to me, no longer being forward, a man possessed by passion but something else I cannot quite understand. “Well yes, partly. But it's more than redemption. I find you attractive, Robert, strong, interesting . . .” He reaches out to touch my chest, and I intertwine fingers. “The drugs, they just show that I understand, but I want to show that even without them, I want to help you, I want to love you, if you'll let me.”
If I let him. I pause at that, staring into those dark eyes, unsure if I can, but I guide him down my belly and passed my cock that is still hard from his presence. Nodding again, he slicks his fingers and presses in, the coldness causing a sharp inhale as much as him. “Arthur,” I moan, trembling. “More.” He does so with a second, scissoring slightly to widen me in preparation to the thoughts that now overwhelm me, envelope me, consume me entirely with him.
Kneeling, he removes to pull me across him, my body twisting to the side so that my legs are still together. All that he is does nothing to stop the burning of the initial push, of him filling me and the “Fuck” that comes out of my throat. He is slow with each pass after until I can find enough composure to tug at my erection, pull with each push until I tell him to move faster, fuck me harder.
He leans inward to bite my ear, to breathe along my neck before pulling at it with teeth and suction that leaves it bruised and me shuddering. His hand touches mine, pushing it aside, to take full control. I fight him momentarily, the very last bits of the past telling me to not let him, to not use me, but I try because I think that I love him too.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-12-21 06:18 am (UTC)I need to catch up on my reading. I really do. But I am really liking the Arthur/Fischer here, especially because Eames doesn't really like Fischer that much. Please write more Arthur/Fischer. You have to. And you definitely need to go more in depth later about just how Arthur and Fischer got together. But seriously, Arthur/Fischer... you write it so amazingly well.
no subject
Date: 2010-12-21 03:05 pm (UTC)And it'll be here. <3