Disclaimer: I own nothing except a dirty, dirty mind.

This is best read while listening to the following:

- Madlib – Please Set Me At Ease

- Blu & Exile – Party of Two

- Jill Scott & Mos Def – Love Rain

- Jill Scott – Crown Royal

- Damu the Fudgemunk – 1993 Pete

- Globetroddas – Love

- Al Green – Let's Stay Together

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

As in gambling, opportunities in life arose sporadically and with a degree of subtlety that required a trained eye and quick reflexes to both recognize and grasp them. Eames, naturally, was no stranger to this game and knew a good thing when he saw it. Despite his overwhelming urges to snatch Arthur in the middle of a job and force him into submission wherever he saw fit, Eames knew this conquest would take a little more finesse and a fair amount of coaxing. Arthur was so uptight, straight-laced – but Eames would go for broke if it meant finally getting to undo him. Years of teasing and antagonizing had built up a sexual tension between them that could be palpated, and Eames was certain that Arthur was more than aware of its presence.

The best course of action, Eames felt, was to reinforce the idea that had surely been germinating in Arthur's mind for the duration of their professional relationship – and what better way to do this than in a dream? The thrilling notion of delving into the deepest recesses of Arthur's subconscious made the hairs on the back of Eames' neck stand up. He'd have only a short time to wait before executing his plan, as Cobb had arranged a series of trials in the upcoming week; surely he'd insist upon Eames and Arthur working together – alone, undisturbed – at some point in the series. A rush of prickly heat shot straight to Eames' groin as he envisioned forcing Arthur onto his hands and knees, pressing his face into the bedsheets and raking his nails down the smooth white expanse of his back, down to what was surely a flawless, virgin ass. Arthur, paragon of self-control, didn't seem the type to give in to any deadly sin, which made his imagined submission to Eames' lust all the more tantalizing.

As predicted, Cobb insisted upon Eames and Arthur working through a trial together. To add insult to injury, the team had been occupying several hotel rooms in a dingy remote French hotel for the past few days. Arthur made no effort to conceal his mild annoyance with the arrangement, which served only to up the ante on Eames' pursuance of him.

"Let's not make this more painful than it already is," Arthur grumbled, slipping the needle into his arm before settling into his chair. Eames forced himself not to smile from his position on the queen-sized bed.

"Don't worry, darling, I promise I'll be gentle."

Arthur, lacking imagination, dreamt of being on a past job. He was flying first-class to Europe and felt fairly agitated despite the tumbler of scotch he'd been nursing for the past half hour. Something did not feel right about this job, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. He'd begun to feel slightly nauseated, which was unusual – he never got airsick. Arthur set down the scotch and strode to the bathroom, where he splashed ice-cold water over his face and neck until he heard a knock at the door. "I'll be right out," he snapped, glancing at his reflection: unkempt hair, dark circles under his eyes, and a crooked tie. A sight for sore eyes, he thought to himself, shaking his head at the haggard-looking man in the mirror. The knocking came again, more insistent this time, and Arthur felt a flare of anger rise in his chest. He threw the bathroom door open to find a dark-haired stewardess standing before him, a concerned look on her face.

"Is everything all right, sir?" she inquired. "You look a little green around the gills."

"I'm fine," Arthur muttered, moving to push past her. She neatly blocked him, fierce green eyes boring into his deep brown ones.

"Too much scotch, perhaps?"

Arthur glared at her. Who did she think she was? "There's nothing wrong. I just need to get back to my seat." The stewardess stepped back as if to let him pass, but suddenly launched herself towards him and shoved him back into the bathroom. "Hey! What the hell –" Arthur began, cut short by the stewardess' lips on his, one hand locking the door while the other pawed at his crotch. Arthur's head was spinning as he tried to brace himself on the counter; he swore the plane was going through a rough patch of turbulence. Despite this, the aggressive tongue and hands of the stewardess were evoking a pleasant heat in his pants and Arthur quickly succumbed to her assault. The buttons on his suit jacket came undone, followed by the buckle of his belt and the fly of his pants.

"Ohhhyessss…" Arthur groaned as the stewardess slid a hand under the waistband of his boxers, nibbling along his jaw and up to his ear. Arthur inhaled sharply when her teeth caught his earlobe, and he got a whiff of musk – a distinctly masculine scent – from her hair. He ignored it when she grabbed hold of his stiffening cock, closing his eyes and letting his body relax against the counter.

"That's it, darling," the stewardess rasped, and Arthur's eyes snapped open. No – it couldn't be! He glanced in the mirror and found himself staring into Eames' reflection, which was wearing a most devilish expression.

"Eames!" Arthur screeched, shoving the forger off of him. "What the fuck!" Before he received an answer, another wave of turbulence shook the plane and Arthur was returned, rather rudely, to the hotel room.

Arthur's cell phone was vibrating in his coat pocket when he awoke hanging drunkenly off the side of the hotel chair. He fumbled for it but missed the call – Cobb, of course, checking in; nothing that couldn't be attended to later. He looked up to see Eames leering at him from his reclined position on the bed, palming the prominent bulge in his pants. Arthur stood up angrily, blood rushing to his head and causing him to fall back into the chair.

"What the…what was that, Eames? What the hell were you trying to do?"

Eames arched an eyebrow at him. "I'd have thought a man of your intelligence would be able to figure that out."

"Don't get cute with me," Arthur growled. "You were trying to seduce me, you bastard!"

"I didn't try, darling, I succeeded in doing so." Eames looked pointedly at Arthur's crotch, which betrayed its owner's words. The point man blushed deeply when he realized he was still half-hard, much to Eames' delight. "Besides," the forger continued, "this was a long time coming, don't you agree?"

"No," Arthur said, struggling to maintain his composure.

"Don't kid yourself, Arthur. You've imagined us in bed more times than you're willing to admit to."

Arthur felt the blush deepening, if that were possible. He couldn't deny it. "It doesn't matter," he said stiffly, rising from the chair and straightening his clothing. "We're colleagues, so any sort of sexual relationship is completely off-limits." He started for the door but Eames leapt off the bed and blocked his way.

"Typical stick-in-the-mud response. Don't you have any passions? Desires? Needs?" Eames ran a finger along the underside of Arthur's chin, which Arthur quickly batted away. "Oh, of course you do – but you need someone to fulfill them."

A muscle twitched in Arthur's jaw. "No, I don't." He tried to push past Eames but the bigger man grabbed him by the shoulders, shoving him down face down on the bed and standing over him like he was ready to attack. The display of aggression seemed to spark something in Arthur, and he twisted around to face Eames, his eyes narrow, glittering with violent fervor.

"Your forging talents have failed here, Eames," Arthur spat, hooking his feet behind the other man's knees and forcing him to fall forward onto the bed. He gave the lapels of Eames' suit jacket a sharp pull and his lips brushed against the forger's ear as he hissed the rest of his sentence. "You have no idea who I am or what you're trying to be."

Eames felt his cock twitch with pleasure. He liked this sudden insolence from Arthur, and it fueled his desire to force him into submission. "I'd never put my chips on the worst bet, darling," he responded, grabbing a fistful of Arthur's hair and jerking his head to the side, exposing the flawless skin of his neck. A sharp intake of breath and the sudden tension Eames felt beneath him spoke volumes about the propriety of his actions. Arthur's carotid artery was pulsing rapidly, and when Eames touched his lips to it Arthur thought he might pass out. Wet heat traveled down to his collarbone and back up under the hard line of his jaw, snaking behind his ear and expertly latching onto the sweet spot he'd nearly forgotten about. The surge of pleasure went straight to his cock, which was already straining obscenely at the material of his pants. Eames responded by shifting his weight and settling his hips between Arthur's thighs, grinding the length of Arthur's cock against his own. Arthur thrust his hips upward, his hands abandoning lapels in search of Eames' ass. Once found, they gripped it with a force that belied Arthur's previous words. Eames chuckled into the point man's ear.

"Fuck you," Arthur exhaled, maintaining his death grip.

"Not yet, darling," Eames said, "I want you to beg for it." He twined his free hand between them, deftly undoing the buttons on Arthur's vest and slipping under his now-rumpled shirt, his touch sending waves of goosebumps over Arthur's damp skin.

"I never beg," Arthur said with indignation. "Especially not –" Eames cut him off by simultaneously drawing his earlobe into his mouth and tweaking his nipple. Arthur let out the tiniest of moans as Eames thrust against him. Knowing that Eames would likely have a smart-alecky response to this, he turned his head and covered the forger's mouth with his own, biting down on that sinful lower lip. Eames wasted no time in prying Arthur's mouth open with his tongue, ignoring the dull pain of teeth clacking against teeth as their mouths coupled and fell apart between thrusts. His left hand gripped Arthur's hair with renewed vigor, the right continuing to explore across his chest and down to his belly button, where it met a narrow trail of hair that disappeared into the point man's pants. Eames silently cursed the pants for preventing him from following it.

Arthur felt himself giving in to the delicious sensations Eames' hand and mouth were creating, and wanting more than just hands and mouth. He kicked off his shoes and released his grip on Eames' ass, legs splayed wide as he fumbled for the forger's belt buckle. Eames jerked his head up in mock surprise, regarding Arthur with a naughty smirk.

"Didn't know you had it in you to be so forward," he teased, but Arthur was having none of it. After prising the buckle open, he whipped the belt from its loops and pushed Eames back roughly, catching him off-guard before rising up and forcing him down to the bed, reversing their positions. Still clutching the belt he straddled Eames' hips, and as Eames reached up to draw his head down, Arthur snatched his hands and lashed them together with a sloppy knot. Eames looked positively alarmed, Arthur noted with a touch of relish.

"Keep them where I can see them," Arthur said, his voice almost a growl. He felt Eames' cock lengthen against his own and he began unbuttoning the forger's pants, eager to release it from its confines and finally touch it, taste it, fuck it. The blood rushed straight from his head to his cock at the thought of the last, and he had to remind himself to slow down; after all, he was stick-in-the-mud Arthur, king of self-control. He couldn't let Eames, that smug bastard, see him lose control just yet. He abandoned the pants and began unbuttoning Eames' shirt with a slowness that caused him to literally tremble with excitement as he stretched his bound arms overhead to allow Arthur better access.

After the last button had been undone, Arthur sat back against Eames' cock and admired what lay before him. Eames' torso, with its intricate tattoos and exquisite muscling, begged touching. Arthur looked directly into the forger's eyes, dark with desire, and lowered his gaze to his lips, slightly parted with anticipation. Those beautiful fucking lips. Heat throbbed through Arthur's cock, which had hardened to the point of being painful. Ignoring it, he leaned over Eames and latched onto his jaw, sucking a path up to his ear and down to his collarbone before descending to flick a nipple with his tongue. Eames' breath hitched sharply and he squirmed under Arthur, trying to thrust his cock up against the point man's ass. This time it was Arthur who smirked and surprised Eames by shifting off his body and neatly pivoting 180°, this time straddling his chest and giving him an eyeful of his clothed but splendid backside. Eames wanted desperately to tear those pants off and expose Arthur, but his hands were quite literally tied. He briefly forgot this fact when Arthur leaned over his crotch and began palming him through the thin material of his underwear, a shiver ripping through his entire body.

"Ohhhhnngod…" he moaned, arching his cock into Arthur's hand. The hand disappeared and was replaced with a mouth that traced the length of his erection, each exhalation hot and unbearably teasing. Arthur's hands found solace on Eames' thighs, gripping fabric and halting the tremor that had run through them. In one fluid motion, Arthur's body was sealed to Eames' from chest to crotch and his teeth were easing the elastic of now-constricting boxer briefs down, freeing Eames' leaking cock. Arthur eyed it lasciviously before gripping it firmly with one hand, the fingers of the other twining around Eames' balls. Eames let out another strangled moan, which encouraged Arthur to jump in headfirst. Carefully pulling back foreskin, he swallowed all seven inches in one go.

Eames felt as though he'd been electrocuted. The moist heat of Arthur' mouth had no equivalent, and when he felt the head of his cock hit the back of the point man's throat, he briefly saw stars. Arthur was sucking his cock like a pro, reducing him to a whimpering, quivering mess in a matter of minutes. It was so very unlike Eames to give up control of a situation – especially a sexual one – but there was no chance in hell that he'd be able to bluff his way through this encounter.

Arthur had since shifted his focus to Eames' balls, drawing one into his mouth and grazing it with his tongue before letting it drop and moving to the other. Eames tried to thrust his aching dick up to Arthur's talented mouth but was thwarted by the hands on his thighs once again. He had actually started to wag his ass in Eames' face, the impudent brat, knowing full well how enticing it was. As the point man dragged his tongue from base to tip, the forger gave in completely.

"Please, Arthur…ohmyfuck…untie me. Just…please…" Eames wanted nothing more than to ravish whatever part of Arthur was in reach of his hands and mouth. The agony of being restrained had lost its pleasure, now provoking only frustration. Arthur pretended not to have heard him, sucking a few inches of cock back into his mouth and toying with the frenulum.

"OhhhhhfuckArthur…fucking untie me!" Arthur stopped at this desperate-sounding plea, glancing back at Eames and noting that he was now chewing at the belt that was preventing him from accosting the point man's ass. Blood pulsed through Arthur's cock, causing him to falter for a moment and give in to the whining. He peeled himself off Eames and pushed the bound hands away from the Brit's mouth, replacing them with a smoldering kiss. He undid the knotted belt with one hand, raking through Eames' hair with the other and swallowing the soft moans he kept producing.

When Eames realized that he'd regained the use of his hands, he broke the kiss by shoving Arthur back down onto the bed and tearing open his shirt, a button or two arcing onto the floor. The temporary loss of control had made him want nothing more than to turn the tables on Arthur – and what better way to do that than to inflict a bit of pain? Eames stripped off Arthur's suit pants and boxers in one fluid motion, flinging them across the room. The look of surprise in Arthur's eyes before Eames flipped him over was nothing short of exquisite, and the squeal that escaped his lips when Eames swiftly backhanded his bare ass was purely obscene.

"We'll see who's doing the begging now," Eames said, gleefully switching hands and delivering a stinging blow to Arthur's other cheek. Arthur gasped and struggled to get up, but Eames had anticipated this and promptly pinned his arms to the bed.

"Hate you," Arthur spat, trying to keep the corners of his mouth from curling into a smile. His ass burned with pleasure from Eames' roughness, and he couldn't help but raise it slightly in anticipation of the next strike.

"Nothing could be further from the truth, darling." Eames kneed Arthur's legs apart and pulled his arms behind his back, clasping the point man's wrists together with one hand. His free hand ghosted over the red imprint it had created before tracing a finger down into the crack of Arthur's perfect, round ass. Arthur jumped at this unexpected touch and attempted to back up onto Eames' hand. "Now, now, Arthur, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eames admonished. "You Yanks are such an impatient lot."

Arthur scowled. He could feel his pulse throbbing through his cock every time it brushed against the sheets, his self-control slipping away bit by bit with every move Eames made. He bit into his lower lip in an effort to quell the urge to scream "Fuck me!"

Eames fumbled with his clothes, yanking pants and underwear to his knees with his free hand and wriggling out of them completely, all while maintaining his grip on Arthur's wrists. Arthur heard him gathering saliva in his mouth, which was followed by a faint spitting sound and a painfully long pause before a warm, wet string cascaded down his ass crack and over his balls. Eames was pleased by the shiver that this elicited, and he encouraged another by sliding a finger down the path his saliva had made. He spat on his hand and used it to diddle Arthur's balls before smoothing his palm down the length of his cock. Arthur responded by burying his face in the bedsheets and muttering unintelligibly.

Eames grabbed Arthur's hair and wrenched his head back, leaning over him to hiss "Come again, love?" into his ear. Arthur grimaced in pain before repeating himself.

"That feels so fucking good…but I want your mouth on me, Eames." The forger paused, loosening his grip on Arthur's hair before shifting to press his rigid cock against the eagerly raised ass beneath him.

"I bet you do, you little slut," Eames growled, biting Arthur's shoulder none-too-gently before releasing his wrists and slowly sucking down the length of his spine. His efforts were rewarded by a low, drawn-out moan. Arthur's back concaved into the bed as Eames neared the swell of his ass, and a ripple of goosebumps traveled across his back when Eames' tongue grazed over the puckered skin of his asshole.

"Yes!" Arthur gasped, white-knuckling the sheets and backing up into Eames' face. Eames spread Arthur wide, dragging his tongue down to his balls before returning to his asshole, where he worked it in painfully slow circles. The slick heat from his mouth combined with the rasp of chin stubble drove Arthur utterly mad with bliss. He was panting now, urging Eames to go faster. The forger obliged, flicking the tip of his tongue at a dizzying pace until his jaw started to ache, at which point he shifted his attention back down to Arthur's balls. Eames knew he wouldn't be able to keep this up for much longer – his cock was aching to penetrate Arthur, to be enveloped by the searing tightness of his ass. He gave his neglected erection a few strokes before tonguing Arthur from cock to crack and causing him to release another strangled moan into the sheets.

"I...I want you to fuck me."

Eames stopped what he was doing and met Arthur's dark gaze. He wasn't joking. "There's lube in the top drawer," he continued, jerking his chin at the night table. He'd barely finished his sentence before Eames had flung the drawer open and retrieved the bottle.

As he coated the fingers of his left hand, Eames leered at Arthur's unashamed display of wantonness. On his elbows and knees, reddened ass high in the air – those stupid sock suspenders still on, Eames suddenly noticed – meant that the point man had finally given up control of the situation. Arthur looked over at him, wagging his backside impatiently. Eames resumed his position behind him, gliding a hand up his spine and squeezing a glob of lube down his crack before easing a finger into Arthur's hot, vise-like asshole. "Nnngh!" Arthur grunted, and surprised Eames by shoving himself down on the finger. Eames twisted the digit, searching for the sweet spot in an effort to completely undo its owner – a fact that Arthur was highly aware of. "More," he hissed, reaching down to grasp his cock. Eames added another finger and took a sharp breath when it hit the small bump, causing Arthur's ass to clench and his knees to spread wider.

"Fuck!" Arthur shrieked, mostly with delight, which encouraged Eames to shove his fingers back in with a little more force. Arthur made a more painful sound at that, but Eames was far too giddy with power and lust to slow down now.

"Just bloody take it, you little cocksucker," he snapped, scissoring his fingers. Arthur made an acquiescent noise, edging his knees farther apart and shivering. He matched the speed of his strokes to Eames' finger-fucking, inciting the forger to ream his ass at a blinding pace; he was hitting his prostate so hard that Arthur saw stars. It didn't last long – Eames wasn't going to be satisfied until his cock was buried deep inside the point man. He withdrew his hand to coat his cock with lube. When Arthur realized what was about to happen, he let out a veritable purr of satisfaction. Eames didn't waste any time in pressing the head of his cock into Arthur's asshole, pausing only when he heard a gasp of pain.

"Keep going," Arthur whispered, eyes screwed shut against the burn. Eames gripped Arthur's hip to steady himself, a fiery surge coursing through his body with every added inch. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep from slamming himself against that trembling ass, burying his cock to the hilt in one fell swoop. He let out a sigh of relief once his hips were flush with Arthur's rump, feeling dizzy from the intense heat encasing his cock. Arthur gently shifted forward, testing this new sensation of being penetrated. Eames responded by pulling back and then carefully thrusting into the point man's slick hole, letting a moan slip from his lips when their balls slapped together. He dug his fingers into Arthur's ass, increasing both the speed and power of his movements in accordance to the sounds the other man was making.

"Harder!" Arthur demanded, nearly sending Eames over the edge. He slowed down for a moment, keeping his orgasm at bay, which prompted Arthur to repeat himself. "I said 'harder', goddammit!" Eames clapped an open hand down on the reddest part of Arthur's ass, making him yelp.

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands, darling," he said, pulling out of Arthur and flipping him onto his back. As if he'd known what was coming, Arthur instantly hauled his knees to his chest, his blown pupils boring into Eames' as a smile spread across his face. "'Atta boy, Arthur – play the hand you've been dealt." In one quick motion the forger was back inside Arthur, spreading his legs wide and pounding his ass into the bed. Arthur pulled Eames' mouth to his and suckled his lower lip before twining their tongues together, releasing moans into the other man whenever his cock hit the sweet spot. When they drew apart, mouths still connected by a silver string of saliva, Arthur traced the line of Eames' jaw with one hand and began fondling his aching cock with the other. Eames' skin glistened with the effort of fucking Arthur so roughly, drops of sweat coursing down his brow and landing on the hot flesh beneath him.

Eames could barely hear the symphony of labored breathing, skin slapping against skin, and cries of ecstasy over the sound of his pulse thundering in his ears. He didn't hear Arthur's lust-deepened voice make another demand of him until a sharp twinge on his nipples brought him back to reality.

"I want you to cum in my mouth."

Arthur saying the words nearly made it so, as the pressure that had been slowly building up at the base of Eames' spine suddenly lurched forward to his groin. He knew Arthur was close too, judging by his creased brow and the frantic speed that his hand had achieved on his cock. "After you, love," he said, pulling himself almost out of Arthur completely before slamming back into him with unprecedented intensity. He hit the point man's prostate hard enough to keep him walking bowlegged for a week, and when he hit it a second time, the muscles inside Arthur's body rippled and clenched around Eames' cock hard enough to take his breath away. A long, drawn out wail ripped out of Arthur as ropes of ejaculate arced from his cock onto his stomach and chest.

The sight of Arthur drowning in the throes of pleasure, covered in his own cum, sent Eames over the edge. He pulled out and gave his cock a couple of jerks as Arthur regained his senses and sat up; his gaze locked on Eames', tongue running over his teeth enticingly. The forger grabbed the back of Arthur's head as a white-hot paroxysm tore through his body and erupted from his cock, sending spurts of molten cum into Arthur's waiting mouth. Eames let out a strangled, incoherent cry that ended in Arthur! just before the point man latched onto his cock, eagerly swallowing the last few surges of orgasm.

When Eames legs could no longer support him, he collapsed onto the bed next to Arthur, who leaned over after some time and kissed him deeply. Eames tasted remnants of his orgasm on the other man's mouth; it was arousing enough to set off stirrings in his spent cock. He pulled Arthur on top of him, ignoring the post-coital stickiness that plastered their bodies together.

"Round two?" Arthur inquired, his hand meandering down Eames' torso until it brushed against his thickening length.

"I'm all in, darling," Eames replied, unable and unwilling to wipe the grin off his face.