Inception Fic: Answering Machine

[bat_hawk]

Title: Answering Machine
Word Count: 2694
Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Eames, Ariadne, Cobb, Yusuf, Saito, one-sided Arthur/Nash
Rating: R? Let's just go with R
Warnings: Language, Voyeurism, Vague depictions of sex
Summery: In order to "leave a message after the beep" on Eames' cell phone, one must endure 30 seconds of Arthur having a toe-curling orgasm. Written for this prompt on the kink meme.
Also Archived At: LJ



I.
Ariadne was writing a paper for psychology with her friends when she had a wonderful idea.

"Hey guys, I know this guy who is really brilliant with psychoanalysis! I should call him up and we could ask him about some of this crap!"

"Please do, Ariadne, I'm dying over here. I haven't got a clue what to write about!"

"Yes, Ari, invite him for lunch and bribe him with food!"

"Alright, just a second," Ariadne pulled out her phone and hit Eames in her contact list. She hoped that he hadn't changed his number since the inception.

The phone rang for a bit and she returned to writing. The answering machine cut on, and Ariadne sat up poker straight at the deep moan in her ear.

"Eeeeeames," the recording shuddered, "Eames, harder, Eames, oh, god Eames, yes, that, Eames,"

What? Was that Arthur? Did Eames seriously have this on his answering machine? Ariadne turned steadily redder and redder throughout the message, but she couldn't tear herself away from the phone.

"Eames, Eames, Eames! Fuck! Eames! ah! god!" Arthur seemed incapable of actual speech beyond this point, and Eames let out a low, dark chuckle that put shivers through Ariadne's spine. Arthur continued to whine and moan breathlessly until he was interrupted by the machine saying,

"Press one to leave a message, or just wait for the tone. Press two for-"

Ariadne snapped her phone shut, noting that her panties were considerably wetter then they had been thirty seconds ago.

"What's wrong, Ari?" asked one of her classmates.

"Um, nothing. I couldn't get a hold of him is all."

"U-huh. Well, if you say so," her classmate replied with a dubious look.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment..." Ariadne stood and hastily made her way to the nearest bathroom.

II.
It had been an entire year since the inception, and Cobb had finally cracked and started calling around for jobs. He found one that was pretty safe and would be relatively simple with the inclusion of a forger. Cobb figured he might as well shoot for the moon, and dialed in Eames's number. Or, at least, the number that Eames had used a year ago. Who knew if Eames had gotten himself into trouble and had to change numbers since then.

The phone seemed to ring forever, and Cobb had gotten a whole speech ready to leave as a message, before the answering machine cut on with what Cobb would've classified as a sex noise if he didn't know any better. Then it happened again, and Cobb wasn't sure if he knew better anymore. Then the answering machine began to moan Eames's name, and Cobb realized that, yes, Eames did record his latest conquest on his answering machine.

When people later asked Cobb why he continued to listen to Eames's message, Cobb would tell them that he thought he recognized the voice of the person Eames was fucking. That would be a lie. Cobb did not recognize anything until Eames's subject demanded,"Faster, Eames, faster, quit being such a fucking tease!" In such an Arthurian voice that it was impossible to mistake Arthur for anyone else. That gave Cobb quite a shock. Enough of a shock, he would later claim, to soldier through listening to Arthur come apart in order to give Eames a piece of Cobb's mind about the arrangement between his former point man and occasional forger. That would also be a lie.

Cobb was, in fact, so entranced by Arthur's vocalizations that it took him until twelve seconds after the beep to remember that there was a piece of his mind around here somewhere that he was supposed to be giving to Eames.

Cobb gave it rather less forcefully then he had intended, going on weakly for a while about how civilized people didn't leave porn on their answering machines, and how it really was barbaric of Eames to submit Arthur to that kind of embarrassment, before petering off weakly and hanging up the phone.

If Cobb called back a few more times and didn't leave any messages, well, that was nobody's business but his own.

III.
Yusuf hadn't noticed that he was running so low on Somnacin supplies. He could've sworn he had at least two jugs more of everything he needed; although now that he thought about it, he vaguely recalled that the cat had knocked over a shelf and shattered several bottles. However it happened, he was now contracted to ship out a large amount of Somnacin made from chemicals he did not at present own in a week to an extraction team; not long enough for the necessary chemicals to ship from his usual sources. If he did not get the Somnacin made, he could count on his body being found in a dark alley a week after the missed shipment. People don't tend to get into extracting because they are understanding or have other options.

It was for occasions like this that Yusuf had Eames on speed dial.

The phone rang until the answering machine kicked in.

Now, Eames has had some strange outgoing messages on his phone. Yusuf is quite used to that. He had been expecting Eames's previous not-so-strange-but-still-amusing message, in which Eames had been drunk and singing a surprisingly well done rendition of I Kissed a Girl.

Needless to say, Yusuf was caught rather off guard by the porn that poured out of his speaker.

"Oh god," he told his cat, "he's recorded sex on his phone. Right now, I am listening to Eames fuck someone."
The cat seemed unphased, while Yusuf grew simultaneously more agitated and strangely relieved when the someone in question identified himself by saying, "Eames, I am going to need more then that. I could do this by myself." No one but Arthur could ever sound that detached while being soundly fucked by Eames. He might as well be commenting on one of Eames's forges by all that came through in his voice.

"Why is this happening to me?" Yusuf continued his dialog with the cat. "What did I do to deserve this? My life depends on leaving Eames a message, and this happens. I really never needed to know what Arthur sounds like in bed. I never even wondered. Oh, there, Eames must be doing something right, now. My god, Arthur incoherent. Never thought I'd see the day. Now I wish I hadn't. Ohgodno, don't start talking, Eames, please, I won't be able to get through this if you start talking. Thank god. He didn't start talking after all. Not that you really care, Cat. When is this ending? Arthur, would you just orgasm already? I want this to be over. I really, really do. Eames, would you up the ante here? Get your boyfriend off, come on, you can do it. Aren't these bloody things only supposed to last for thirty seconds? How long can thirty seconds take? I'm dying here, Cat. And you don't even care. You'll be sad, though, when there is no one to feed you. You'll wish that you had- Oh, thank heaven, it's over!"

Yusuf pressed one to leave a message.

"Eames, what is that. Why would you do such a thing to me? What even possessed you to do that? I'm assuming you are aware that Arthur will slaughter you when he discovers that. He probably already knows and has already killed you. I don't even-" Yusuf sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand. "You know what? Never mind. I need more Somnacin components to be in my lab in two days. Standard rates apply. If you want to renegotiate those, ring me back. I am not calling you again until you replace the abomination on your answering machine. Oh, and are you and Arthur finally together now, or was that simply a particularly lethal one night stand?"

IV.
Saito had encountered a problem. There was a rat among his inner circle, and he honestly had no idea who it was. That did not sit well with him, and he could not fix this problem by throwing money around. Extraction was the best answer for his current situation. It was certainly a pity that Cobb was out of the game. There had been some whispers recently about Cobb coming back, but they never turned up anything concrete. Something must've scared Cobb off.

Saito settled on Eames as his extractor. Eames had formulated most of the inception plan, after all. Hopefully Eames would also be able to convince Arthur to work with him. Saito did only work with the best, after all. Ariadne was no longer dreaming professionally, but Eames would certainly know a good architect.

Once he had decided on Eames, Saito promptly called him. He had double checked to make sure Eames's number was the same. Criminals were never reliable that way.

Saito was somewhat surprised when the answering machine cut on, but he smirked when he recognized the American accent moaning Eames's name. That would guarantee Arthur's involvement on the job. Saito smiled to himself at both Arthur's demanding attitude and his later speechlessness when Eames seemed to comply perfectly with all of Arthur's directions.

"Mr. Eames," Saito said after the tone, "I suppose you are fishing for complements by publishing your sexual exploits on your answering machine. Allow me to congratulate you on the very successful seduction. Mr. Arthur does not seem the type to be ensnared easily. You almost make me want to commission you for another purpose entirely. But I have a job offer for you, Mr. Eames. Please contact me as soon as you are able. I must admit, it is a distinct pleasure to be able to count on Mr. Arthur joining us."

Saito hung up his phone and noticed he was half hard. He wasn't particularly surprised about that after listening to two attractive men have mind blowing sex. Just outside Saito's office, there was a whole building full of people more then willing to be fucked by him, but he wasn't really in the mood. Saito stood up and leaned against the frame of the window that made up the back wall of his office and palmed himself absently through his trousers while looking out over the city.

Perhaps he should invest in some quality cameras for Eames and Arthur's room while they visited.

V.
Nash was really at his wit's end. If he didn't complete this job perfectly, he was going to be worse then dead. And it wasn't an easy job. In an earlier and slightly happier time, Nash would've called up Arthur, who would've brought out the best and the brightest dreamshare had to offer in order to bail Nash out of whatever hole he had gotten himself into. Nash had given that all up with the Saito/Cobol incident, sadly. It wasn't as if he had a choice then; it was be killed by Saito or sell out Arthur and Cobb and stand a chance of seeing the next sunrise. Of course Saito had to go and hand him over to Cobol, who almost killed him, and who landed him in his present situation. Nash had been forced to ask a favor from a rather cruel and powerful "friend" to get away from Cobol. This job was the friend's price.

Nash had already tried calling Arthur and groveling and pleading for old time's sake. All to no avail. This was Arthur, after all. He had the memory of an elephant, and he held a grudge like no one else.

All of this left Nash at his present dead end. He was mournfully going over his contact list one last time before committing himself to death by getting as thoroughly smashed as it was humanly possible to get.

Nash noticed a small business card at the bottom of his drawer and pulled it out. Once he read it, he could've kicked himself. Why the fuck hadn't he thought of this sooner? It was Eames, who Arthur had brought in numerous times back when he worked semi-regularly with Nash. Eames who had a closet full of ideas and all the know-how to put them to use. Fucking Eames who was the best god damned forger on the market; who could get anyone to spill anything if he could figure the right person to copy!

Nash suddenly had a renewed interest in life as he dialed Eames' number frantically, praying for him to pick up.

He didn't, of course, because the universe hated Nash like that. But Nash forgot to be pissed almost instantly when the answering machine cut on.

Was that... Could that be... But really... There was no way... Arthur?

Nash felt his jaw unhinge. Eames was fucking Arthur. Was really, actually fucking Arthur, and was still alive by all accounts.

What kind of unfair universe did Nash live in? It was a place where fucking Eames could fucking fuck beautiful, deadly, disdainful Arthur!

Nash would've thrown something if he could afford to break anything he still owned.

Nash listened to the first ten seconds of Eames' message in seething rage before he decided to just enjoy it for what it was; his own private Arthur sex tape. Despite the fact that it was neither his nor private. It was Arthur, though, which was really all that mattered. Nash shoved his hand down his pants and proceeded to jerk off for the last twenty seconds of the answering machine.

The message Nash left was a bit breathless and incoherent, but it got the point across.

"Eames, this is Nash. Oh, fuck, you remember me? Arthur's old architect? I, fuck, I need you for a, ah, job. It's kind of an important, nnn, job; my life is literally, hah, on the line, so if you could, hnmmm, call me back, that would be, fuck, ah, great."

Nash hit redial as soon as he was through with the message and took his hand out of his pants for long enough to get a recording device, with which he preserved the beautiful sounds Arthur made when fucked. Nash then threw his phone across the room and put the recorder on repeat while he tossed off until he physically couldn't.

VI.
Arthur walked along a small town road in Switzerland. It was warm and sunny, there were birds singing in the trees, and Arthur had fucked Eames last night. Life was decidedly good. Arthur arrived at a cafe, and lounged at a table on the patio.

Where had Eames gotten to? He was five minutes late. No one was five minutes late to anywhere but the airport or the hospital in a town this size. Arthur pulled out his phone and hit Eames' number on speed dial. Arthur blinked lazily at the sun while Eames' phone rang itself into the answering machine.

Arthur quirked an eyebrow at the sounds that issues from his phone. Then he snorted. By the time the beep sounded, he was laughing.

"Eames," he grinned, "there are two things I cannot believe. Firstly, how you managed to record sex on your phone without me noticing. Secondly, why you would ever let me listen to your answering machine. Now get your ass over here, the scenery is awful without your face in it."

Eames rounded the corner fifteen seconds after Arthur snapped his phone shut.

"My love," Arthur greeted with an outstretched hand, "you are an idiot."

"Ah yes," Eames slid his hand into Arthur's as he sat down. "You really were never supposed to hear that. I'm only happy it didn't happen when you were in a bad mood."

"Aren't you, though?" Arthur grinned, showing off his dimples. "I've killed for less."

"Don't I know it," Eames kissed Arthur's fingers before dropping his hand. "Now what do you say to some cake? You're still disconcertingly skinny."

"Sounds delightful. I'll be disconcertingly round by the time you're done with me, you know."

"Impossible, on both counts!"

"Is that another declaration of undying love?"

"I do believe it is. Now eat your cake, darling, I'm only trying for some love handles."