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charybdisFor this prompt on the inception kink meme on LJ.
Title: Taste and Style (but not talent)
Pairing: Eames/Saito
Summary: Three times Saito wanted to seduce Eames (or three times Eames thought he'd managed to seduce Saito). And one instance of mutual seduction. PG-13, 700 words
One.
Eames is an enigma.
Saito is quite impressed when he first observes the nature of forgery. While the rest of the team remain essentially themselves in the dreamscape, Eames takes on a certain mutable quality that is impossible to pin down. The persona of a brash Englishman becomes as insubstantial as a reflected image on the surface of a pool, a trick of the light overlaid on strange depths.
His oblique complement, however, is misplaced, and only Eames's serendipitous arrival prevents him from attracting the suspicions of Fischer's subconscious.
(There is a moment, just after Eames warns him away from the projection, when Saito's expression registers surprise and just a hint of awe.
If he'd known that all it would take was a bit of solid forgery to grab Saito's attention, Eames would have picked a different body for every practice-run.)
Two.
Eames is far more than a pretty face.
And yet, the dream sky is a frozen blight, and the only color in the world seems to be in his startling, blue-green eyes and the wind-burnt flush of his cheeks. He describes the layout of the hospital in spare sentences, elegant in their thoughtless utility. Saito knows enough about the workings of the human body to attribute such fancies to blood loss and shock, but the image sticks in his mind, nevertheless.
In the long, immutable years before Cobb comes for him, he is often arrested by a memory of clear eyes and the curve of perfect lips, moving soundlessly in the arctic sunlight.
(Eames is no stranger to flirtation, and the way Saito watches his mouth makes him nearly certain of a wish-me-luck kiss before they part ways. And vaguely disappointed when Saito skis off without one.
The temptation to steal that kiss before he heads out to set the charges is almost overwhelming, but he settles for the firm press of his hand around Saito's around the gun, and promises himself that he'll collect later.)
Three.
Eames is peerless.
Saito knows how to recognize reality by feel, knows what it is to grow old, knows every secret of his own subconscious, but none of it is quite as comforting as the sight of Eames lounging in the seat across the aisle, indolent smile on his face as though he knows no other way to be. Saito remembers a hundred beautiful lovers, a thousand passionate nights, and none of them are nearly as stirring as the hooded stare that Eames slants at him as they debark the plane.
The strong curl of Eames's hand as he retrieves his luggage from the carousel is impossibly breathtaking, and Saito understands the necessity of a totem.
(It's an uncomfortable amount of time before Cobb and Saito rejoin them in the waking world, and when they do, Eames finally relaxes into his seat.
He spends what little time they have left on the flight trying to unravel the meaning behind the way Saito looked for him the moment he awoke.)
And one instance of mutual seduction.
Once he's collected his things, Eames lingers in the airport lobby, loitering mid-concourse under the pretense of trying to locate some decent tea.
He isn't surprised when Saito corners him -- that was the plan, after all -- and he isn't surprised when Saito leans in and kisses him.
What surprises Eames is the way Saito's hands smooth across his chest and shoulders and come to rest oh-so-lightly on his hips, and the gradual parting of his mouth in invitation. Finding charm where he expected command.
The spicy scent of expensive cologne fills his senses and Eames insinuates the tip of his tongue between Saito's lips, feels heat rush through his body and steps closer until they are pressed together, inextricably entwined.
"Do you have a room?" Eames asks, between kisses.
"I have a hotel."
Eames laughs, soft and helpless against Saito's mouth, "Of course you do."
(The one thing about Eames that Saito finds most intriguing is his intense appreciation of the beauty in everyday things and mundane people.
When they are close together, Saito can almost see past the projections into a world full of souls.)
Title: Taste and Style (but not talent)
Pairing: Eames/Saito
Summary: Three times Saito wanted to seduce Eames (or three times Eames thought he'd managed to seduce Saito). And one instance of mutual seduction. PG-13, 700 words
One.
Eames is an enigma.
Saito is quite impressed when he first observes the nature of forgery. While the rest of the team remain essentially themselves in the dreamscape, Eames takes on a certain mutable quality that is impossible to pin down. The persona of a brash Englishman becomes as insubstantial as a reflected image on the surface of a pool, a trick of the light overlaid on strange depths.
His oblique complement, however, is misplaced, and only Eames's serendipitous arrival prevents him from attracting the suspicions of Fischer's subconscious.
(There is a moment, just after Eames warns him away from the projection, when Saito's expression registers surprise and just a hint of awe.
If he'd known that all it would take was a bit of solid forgery to grab Saito's attention, Eames would have picked a different body for every practice-run.)
Two.
Eames is far more than a pretty face.
And yet, the dream sky is a frozen blight, and the only color in the world seems to be in his startling, blue-green eyes and the wind-burnt flush of his cheeks. He describes the layout of the hospital in spare sentences, elegant in their thoughtless utility. Saito knows enough about the workings of the human body to attribute such fancies to blood loss and shock, but the image sticks in his mind, nevertheless.
In the long, immutable years before Cobb comes for him, he is often arrested by a memory of clear eyes and the curve of perfect lips, moving soundlessly in the arctic sunlight.
(Eames is no stranger to flirtation, and the way Saito watches his mouth makes him nearly certain of a wish-me-luck kiss before they part ways. And vaguely disappointed when Saito skis off without one.
The temptation to steal that kiss before he heads out to set the charges is almost overwhelming, but he settles for the firm press of his hand around Saito's around the gun, and promises himself that he'll collect later.)
Three.
Eames is peerless.
Saito knows how to recognize reality by feel, knows what it is to grow old, knows every secret of his own subconscious, but none of it is quite as comforting as the sight of Eames lounging in the seat across the aisle, indolent smile on his face as though he knows no other way to be. Saito remembers a hundred beautiful lovers, a thousand passionate nights, and none of them are nearly as stirring as the hooded stare that Eames slants at him as they debark the plane.
The strong curl of Eames's hand as he retrieves his luggage from the carousel is impossibly breathtaking, and Saito understands the necessity of a totem.
(It's an uncomfortable amount of time before Cobb and Saito rejoin them in the waking world, and when they do, Eames finally relaxes into his seat.
He spends what little time they have left on the flight trying to unravel the meaning behind the way Saito looked for him the moment he awoke.)
And one instance of mutual seduction.
Once he's collected his things, Eames lingers in the airport lobby, loitering mid-concourse under the pretense of trying to locate some decent tea.
He isn't surprised when Saito corners him -- that was the plan, after all -- and he isn't surprised when Saito leans in and kisses him.
What surprises Eames is the way Saito's hands smooth across his chest and shoulders and come to rest oh-so-lightly on his hips, and the gradual parting of his mouth in invitation. Finding charm where he expected command.
The spicy scent of expensive cologne fills his senses and Eames insinuates the tip of his tongue between Saito's lips, feels heat rush through his body and steps closer until they are pressed together, inextricably entwined.
"Do you have a room?" Eames asks, between kisses.
"I have a hotel."
Eames laughs, soft and helpless against Saito's mouth, "Of course you do."
(The one thing about Eames that Saito finds most intriguing is his intense appreciation of the beauty in everyday things and mundane people.
When they are close together, Saito can almost see past the projections into a world full of souls.)
no subject
Date: 2010-08-10 01:57 am (UTC)It was EPIC hard to write, though. Something about Saito's voice just refuses to be rushed. (And I don't ship Eames/Saito, so.)