The Way it Feels. 1/1

Prompt: Creampie

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Ariadne desperately wants Eames to fill her in the most intimate way possible. It's getting him to agree to it that's going to be tricky.

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Ariadne is a smart, capable young woman – she studied Architecture with a minor in Psychology. This shouldn't be as much of a challenge for her! All it should take is a few flutters of her big brown eyes, some pretty, seductive words and Eames would give into her deepest, darkest desire.

They'd been casually seeing each other since the Inception job. The plane ride back to Europe had been the spark to light the powder keg. One dalliance at 30,000 feet turned into monthly trysts. The monthly trysts are now weekend events every week.

The brunette architect couldn't even count all the different hotels, taxis, metro cars or back alley's their activities had christened. Even the nostalgic thoughts bring a small smile to her lips and a pink blush to the apples of her cheeks.

'I'll call him…Just talk it out like the adults we are.' Ari reasons, turning a prepaid cell over in the palm of her hand. Five minutes, the lithe woman stood five minutes turning the little black phone over and over in her palm before it rang. The sound startles her, making her jump and then laugh at being so silly.

"Hello?" She keeps her voice light and jovial, having not bothered to check the ID.

"ello, Love!"

"Eames! I was just about to call you." A happy tone leaks into Ariadne's voice.

"Up for a get together in London this weekend? University isn't over loading you with projects again this week are they?" Eames got straight to the point as usual. When he wanted something, the conman never beat around the bush about it.

"London sounds good, I'm getting tired of Paris. No projects this week, the others still haven't lapsed their due dates. How's work? Anything new?"

"Nothing that could entice the likes of you, little architect."

"As long as you're getting work." She sighs, knowing he won't tell her even if he was scint.

"Always, darling. Now, what was it you were going to call me about?"

"I wanted to see you one, and two I have a request."

A deep velvet chuckle drifts over the line to Ariadne's ear.

"Well tell me about it love. Can't consider or do any prep work unless I know what it is you're wanting."

"Iwantyoutocuminsideme" The words came out in a rush, breath whooshing out after, her eyes closed and cheeks burning.

'God so much for being mature about this.'

"Pardon? Ariadne?" Curiosity laced Eames' voice. Taking a deep breath, then another, the woman tries again.

"I, uh, really want to feel you- that is…Christ Eames. I want your cum inside me." She spits out, eyes trained on the ceiling, waiting for the man on the other end of the line to answer.

"Two – no three, questions. One, inside you where? Two, why didn't you mention this sooner. Three, are you protected against pregnancy?"

Ariadne's eyes widen. Eames is speaking calmly, he even sounds intrigued! For a long moment the brunette gathers her thoughts, and tramples down the giddy feeling bubbling in the depths of her stomach.

"As for one – pussy or ass, hell both even if you're feeling really frisky. Two – I was embarrassed and afraid you'd think I'm some sick-o."

"I wouldn't and I don't think that about you, Ari." Eames cuts off Ariadne's rapid fire answers with the stern statement, making the young woman smile.

"And the third…"Ariadne pauses a moment, contemplating telling the truth or lying about being on a form of birth control.

"No." The answer is out before she can stop herself and she again is left waiting to hear Eames' input on the matter. For Eames part the news isn't terribly troubling, but he doesn't want to get her pregnant.

'Dilemmas' His subconscious supplies; ' there aren't any immediately effective ways to protect her other than condoms. Any oral medication will take a month, a ring a week if memory serves…oh fuck it.'

"If it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me."

"It doesn't" Ariadne squeaks into the receiver, the speed of her answer bringing a sly smile to Eames' lips.

"Get here on Friday; I know you've got a long weekend. Let's make the most of it."

"See you then, Eames."

"Be good at school, lover. Don't make any of the other kids cry."

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Nine at night finds Ariadne and Eames plastered against a wall. His hands are lifting her by the ass, her legs crossed behind his back at the ankles. Their kiss is fierce and Ariadne knows by the end of the weekend both of them will have bruised lips.

She's been thinking about this all week. Classes were just distractions and having to eat was an bothersome chore. Eames has had the same sort of mentality. There'd been no gambling, conning, thievery or forgery in four days. The thought of being seated as deep inside Ariadne as he could be when orgasm hit was distracting.

Friday closes and the two of them can't even make it into his apartment. They're stuck in the second landing stairwell- Ariadne's hands tearing the buttons out of their holes, tiny hands scrabbling to slide over Eames' chest. The conman's tongue is doing a very accurate imitation of staccato, commanding thrusts.

He is driven by the soft whines; moans and grunts that fall from Ariadne's lips, swallowing them whole and then giving her reason to make more. This dance they've been doing is intoxicating; he can't get enough of her.

"Clothes. Have. To. Go." He is grunting, pinning the architect to the wall by her hips with his own. They are rocking and grinding together, filling the stairwell with a song of passion. Eames brings himself to part with his lover's lips; choosing to run his tongue up and down the column of her throat. His teeth tear at the scarf tied to her neck, worrying the naked flesh when it's bared.

It's one of her favorite feelings, Eames biting, sucking and pulling at her skin until he marks her. They last for days – weeks even and it's a little secret Ariadne can keep with her at all times. When he finally lets up for a second and she can speak it comes out in short pants and tugs at his tie.

"Apartment, Eames. Want your cock. So fucking badly."

The words stir the man in front of her to action, with a grunt he hefts the lithe woman's frame tight against his own and makes a mad dash up the last two flights of stairs. The bouncing is torturous, each step jostling and bumping Ariadne against The conman's sizeable erection. In the four minutes it took them to reach door 19B, Ariadne is writhing against Eames. With glazed eyes and her head tilted back she is the picture of debauchery.

Bursting into the apartment, makes Eames feel like a horny teen again. But it isn't more than a passing thought. Setting Ariadne on the arm of his couch they begin to tear each other's clothing off. Lips and tongues blaze needy trails on skin that is newly revealed to the world. Her underwear gets ripped, his boxers land on a lamp somewhere (over there).

Eames is pushing into the brunette's passage at the same time he pushes her back over the couch arm. Thin shoulders hit the seat and her hips are propped up by the arm. The angle sends Eames careening into her depths, bottoming out with a expletive from both participants.

Each stroke is setting fireworks off behind Ariadne's eyes, and she is near tears when a large hand encompasses a breast, a thumb moving to rub over her clit. The little nerve bundle might as well be humming with all her frustration and pleasure.

"Harder." A strangled demand almost yelled into the forger's ear, has him abandoning her breast, hand clamping down on her hip, pulling so the lithe body meets his thrusts. He's hitting her cervix and making her cry out in a combination of pain and pleasure, driving Ariadne to the edge of oblivion. Her little fingers sweep over her skin, digging into his shoulders, angry red welts forming in their wake.

"Eames." Her soft yell is a warning; she's going to fall off the edge soon. When she goes, he is never far behind.

"Do it. Cum. Milk me with that sweet little quim of your Ariadne. Do it." Hot words vibrate against her neck and make the architect strain against her lover. With increasing volume she works against him, hands stealing down between them to rub furiously at her bundle of nerves.

"Let go Ariadne. Let me see it. Come on, darling. Need to feel you before I give you what you want."

"Tell me…" She pleads sobbing, brown eyes lidded, glazed and staring straight at the conman's face.

"Gonna fill you up, girl. Make you scream. Then we'll do it all over again. " He grunted, feeling the first flutter's of Ariadne's end.

"Bury my dick so deep inside you, over and over this weekend, you'll come out of this walking funny. "

"Eames!" Her hips buck against him and he knows. She's going to cum in a matter of moments. He speaks quickly, thrusting so hard, the bed is making threatening sounds, the dry wall may have a few holes and god is he going to cum hard soon.

"It's coming isn't Ari. Mine is too. Gonna cum in you. Today, Tomorrow, Sunday. When you go home you'll be pregnant without a doubt."

The words and his thrusts end Ariadne. Her nails draw blood and her scream almost deafens him. It's worth it because five thrusts later Eames seats himself balls deep inside her channel, white hot light flashing through him. His yell vaguely sounds like her name before he collapses. They are a tangle of limbs, hot, sweaty, and utterly satisfied.

Ariadne feels slosh-y, but not nearly enough. Breathing hard, she slaps a hand gently on Eames' back. When his blue eyes meet her she gives a smile and wiggle of her hips.

"Round two?"

"Jesus Christ Ari…"

"That a yes?"

A pleasured yell is her answer when Eames begins to move inside her again.