luka (starfleet) wrote,

darling boy (nc-17) arthur/eames 1/2

So you know that really, really embarrassing, super porny, Disney Channel!Arthur fic that was posted on the meme? Yeah? Well, guess what? That was written by me.

This fic is completely self-indulgent, completely unexplainable, and completely and totally ridiculous. Cleaned up and beta'd by


darling boy | arthur/eames | nc-17 | 12,000
"Why darling," he say slowly, like he's talking to an incompetent child, "we're doing body shots."

“Arthur, you’re needed on set in ten,” Dominic says, coming up to him and messing with his hair, again.

Dominic is his hairdresser, his obsessed-with-hair-and-everything-men hairdresser, and this might be why Arthur likes him so much. He’s funny and he’s nice to Arthur, whereas most adults aren’t. Most adults aren’t inclined to like Disney Channel stars because of the reputation that they have, but he’s determined to prove them wrong. Dom, on the other hand, invites Arthur over to his mansion to play video games and to watch movies with sexy men in it.

He likes Dom, he likes him a lot.

He’d like him more if he’d stop messing with his goddamn hair, because it honestly looks fine, and it’s not like these Disney people really care about what their hair looks like (yes, he is looking at you, Miley Cyrus. He sees those uncurled pieces of hair all of the time; you are not as innocent as you claim to be).

Arthur bats his hands away, no longer able to stand it and grimaces. “I’ve redone this scene twenty times in the last hour, Dom,” he says. “If I have to do this scene anymore, I might just quit.”

He laughs, because it’s an empty threat and they both know it. “Two more episodes and your days as Arthur Koden are finished.”

He grins tightly. “Thank god,” he replies.

This is one of his biggest regrets, this Disney Channel thing. He doesn’t like it now, even though when he was fourteen it sounded like a good idea. Disney Channel sounds like a good idea to any fourteen-year-old that wants to get into the business because it is work. And work is more than good, at least in Arthur’s point of view.

Disney Channel? Well, Disney Channel is not.

Arthur is heading toward being twenty-years-old and is still signed to one of the worst companies that could hold a serious actor. A serious actor that is tired of too many rules and too much singing and dancing (he already has two albums out because Disney is obsessed with having all of their stars sing.) One who just wants to act his fucking age for once. They don’t like twenty-year-olds to act their age, no, they want twenty-year-olds to be innocent as a duck and to go out and smile everywhere they go, and be nice to children. Arthur likes children, he really does, but he’s tired of them trying to kiss him (he does not find that shit cute, especially when they're over the age of fifteen). Disney Channel is nice to him -- they’ve broken him out of so many problems these last few years that he should at least be more than a little thankful -- and they’re efficient and he likes that about them, because he honestly couldn’t ask for anything better when it comes to that. But breaking their contract and breaking out of their clutches is hard to do if you don’t want to do drugs or send out nude pictures or go fuck Hugh Hefner.

And Arthur wants to make the break clean because he wants zero-to-little consequences. He doesn’t want something bad on his record. He wants to be taken seriously, and the Disney Channel stars who turned to drugs and nudes and other illicit activities, aren’t.

Arthur is the poster-child of a very serious actor (or at least, he wants to be).

“You’re needed on the That’s So Arthur set, Arthur,” Dom says, and he laughs more than he should, because for some reason Dom finds this funny. Dom finds everything funny, and he’s always happy. Arthur thinks this is a sign of mental derangement and an ‘I’m-close-to-breaking-down-and-killing-everyone’ revelation, but no one takes him seriously.

This is probably because he is steadily fucking Saito, who owns the Disney Channel, and who also owns almost every sister-channel to Disney.

He tries not to be jealous of Dom’s connections that he doesn’t even use, but on most days he fails.

He hates the show that he is on because, like mostly everything on Disney, his show is very unrealistic. That’s So Arthur -- he still regrets letting them use his real name, because he can’t even pretend to ignore annoying fangirls when they scream at him in stores (he really is a nice person, and he’s grateful, he just hates stupid fangirls who don’t know the difference between fact and fictional and are over the age of twelve) -- is a show about a boy, named Arthur, who lives through his dreams.

This idea sounded generally awesome when he was fourteen. But then they threw in girls that were too fake to even pretend to be interested in, parents who didn’t care what or who Arthur was doing, and somehow he never really made it to school but always got straight A’s. Everyone loved this Arthur, and praised the ground he walked on, and he never got into fights because teenage boys totally don’t run into problems.

Arthur still isn’t sure if he’s totally jealous of his character, or just completely hates him.

(Most days, it’s an even mixture of both.)


When he finally gets home after shooting five retakes of the same scene, Arthur doesn’t want to do much of anything. He wants to sit at home, take a nice bath and possibly jack-off to porn because this is his routine when he’s too angry to think.

He’s too angry to think most days when he comes home, and he tries not to think of the number that this is doing on his psyche.

Just when he’s reaching for the remote, his cell phone rings in his pocket. And one thing you must know about Arthur is that he absolutely hates this cell phone. He hates phones in general, because he’s the kind of person who likes to have conversations face-to-face, but this phone makes every phone in every horror movie look innocent.

“Hello,” he answers, because Arthur is too damn polite to ignore it.

“Arthur!” Ariadne squeals, and there’s ruckus in the background, ruckus that Arthur isn’t allowed to be a part of.

Ariadne is his best friend, and if he was interested in girls the way that he was interested in cock, she’d probably be more than that. She’s an actress that is the same age as he is, but she took the smart route and took the hard road and got into serious acting at a young age. He loves her unconditionally, but most days he hates her more than a little, too.

Arthur is normally too jealous to function on most days.

“Ariadne,” he says, and he’s smiling at nothing because there’s something about Ariadne that just makes you smile.

“How is the Disney Channel treating you?” She asks, and she’s smirking, because she always makes fun of him for being a Disney Channel star.

They had first met at a charity event. Arthur might be a little malicious when it comes to his job because he generally hates everyone associated with it, but he loves helping out underprivileged people who can’t help themselves. She wasn’t surprised when he told her that he was on the Disney Channel, because he ‘had the face for it’, apparently. And it took every ounce of his self-control not to throw a fit when he learned that she was working with Christian Bale on his latest movie.

So he went home after the event and trashed his room instead.

“Horrible,” Arthur says after a moment, and clicks off the porn, because that’s a disaster lined up to happen. “How’s your new movie?”

“It’s awesome! Everyone on set is really nice, especially Eames. He loves to mimebox-”

Arthur freezes for a second, cutting her off with a sound that is halfway between at cough and a screech (a manly screech). “Eames?” He asks, “the Eames? The one who starred in the TV adaption of ‘Gone With the Wind’?”

“Yeah, he’s awesome,” she says.

“Why . . . didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

He pictures her shrugging, as it is an Ariadne thing to do. “I thought I already told you,” confusion dripping from her voice.

He knows that she’s aware of the fact that she didn’t. But he lets it slide because Ariadne is often too busy to pay attention to Disney actors like himself. “I’m so jealous of you right now,” he says. He’s not whining, but it’s a close call.

“That’s why I called-”

“-you called to rub in how jealous I was?”

“No, Arthur, I called to invite you to a party. A party hosted by Mr. Eames himself,” she says.

He chokes on a breath. “They probably don’t want a Disney actor there, Ari.”

And it’s true; Arthur has tried one too many times to get into the ‘serious-actor-parities’ (as he calls them), and he’s only managed to get into one. This was only because Jude Law liked the way his ass looked in the jeans that he was wearing. He was kicked out two-hours-later for staring at Ryan Reynolds for too long, and for possibly being recognized from the ‘what the fuck is that stupid wanker from Disney doing here’ Channel.

“You’re my plus one,” she says. “Eames said I could bring anyone, no matter whom it was, and I'm choosing to bring you.”

“It’s breaching my contract,” he says.

And he's not lying, because just a few weeks ago the representatives from Disney sat him down and told him if he were to break anymore rules, then there would be hell to pay. Arthur's life is already hell, and he doesn't want to venture into his life resembling it more.

“You’ve never cared about this before,” she points out.

“No, because that was when I wasn’t two episodes away from being out of Disney for good.”

“This is all the more reason to go! Think of it as a going away party.” There’s commotion in the background, and with a little too much jealousy, he thinks that she’s probably on set.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says, because he knows it isn’t. It can’t be a good idea, because Ariadne’s ideas usually sound delicious, but they almost always end terribly, with broken bones.

“It’s Eames, Arthur, the Eames that you have been jacking off to since you were thirteen.”

He really regrets drunk dialing her and telling her about how gorgeous he finds this man to be. It’s possibly in the running next to signing to Disney in the first place. “Fine,” he says. It’s only to shut her up, and it’s really, really not because he might just want to fuck Eames with his eyes. Or possibly 'accidentally’  touch his ass  in passing.

“Splendid!” She cries. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty tonight.”

He grumbles. “See you then.”

“Don’t frown too much!”

And then she’s gone, and Arthur’s left thinking that this might just be the most terrible idea that she has ever had.

(It is).


Arthur has no idea what to wear.

And this is saying something because Arthur, always put-together, well-dressed, pants-too-tight-around-the-ass-but-it-looks-delicious Arthur, always knows what to wear. But there’s something about Eames, the Eames that Arthur has been in love with since he’s been in the business, that completely undoes any self-confidence that Arthur has built up.

He doesn’t want to look like some kid crashing an adult party, because Eames is thirty-six, and is a well-respected, award winning, Oscar-nominated actor that generally everyone loves. He’s read every interview, watched every video, and has seen every one of his movies, and he doesn’t want to disappoint the man (not that he thinks that Eames will pay attention to him, because he’s Arthur and no one important pays attention to him). Arthur also doesn’t want to look like he’s playing dress-up, but he’s used to wearing trousers and waist-coats and nice shoes, being as this is what he wears on a daily basis.

Arthur doesn’t know why he’s fretting, because he’s probably just going to get drunk with Ariadne (it’s not like people at this party actually care that he and Ariadne are underage, mostly because most of them are snorting crack in the bathrooms), and will fuck off with her and probably be hipster in the woods.

He just picks something at random, not really going for anything in particular, as he would most likely fail if he did this. Once he’s dressed in black trousers and a silk button down, Arthur throws over a waistcoat. It’s not because he wants to look grown up, it’s really not.

Two minutes after he finishes his hair -- he leaves it down, as Ariadne says it makes him look ‘too fuckable to resist’ -- and puts on some cologne, Ariadne arrives.

Well, he thinks, here goes nothing.


Eames, as it turns out, is so much more attractive in person. Arthur didn’t doubt this, mainly because most people look slightly off-kilter on camera, and even though Eames is gorgeous on it, he knew he’d be more gorgeous off of it.

His suspicions are proven correct when he walks into the party with Ariadne, which is presumably being held at Eames’ house in Toluca Lake. It’s a gorgeous home with domed ceilings and hardwood floors, rich colors on the wall and furniture that probably costs more than his whole apartment put together.

The party is crowded. Arthur doesn’t do well in crowds, mainly because he feels claustrophobic and one wrong move from anyone can make him have a panic attack. And this really isn’t good for the business he’s in, but these people are strangers, and they’re powerful strangers, so it really is to be expected. More than this, they give him a look like he shouldn’t be here, and it’s unsettling, but with his arm looped through Ariadne’s, there’s not much that they can do about it.

They make it to the kitchen where the drinks are in under a minute of being there, and he’s already on his second beer by the time ten minutes are up. He’s not aiming to get drunk anymore, but the alcohol loosens him up and it feels nice in his belly.

“Arthur,” Ariadne nudges him, and for a moment it doesn’t register.

“Hm,” he hums easily, because he’s halfway through a swallow.

“Eames,” she says simply, “is making his way over here.”

The swallow is no longer there, being as he chokes on it. Ariadne comes behind him to pound his back, and Arthur could really kill her for this. Now that he thinks about it, he could actually kill her for a lot of the shit she pulls.

“Fuck,” he says.

She smiles. “Don’t worry Arthur, you’re still attractive,” she says, like this is really the first thing on his mind (and okay, even if it is, he kind of hates her freakish, best friend mind-powers sometimes).

Eames eventually makes his way through the crowd, and he looks annoyed.

Fuck, Arthur thinks, this is it. He’s coming to kick me out. He turns to say something to Ariadne, but she’s not even looking at him anymore.

“Ariadne,” Eames says, and he sounds pleased. He kisses her on the cheek, smooth and easy, and he tries not to hate her for it. “I’m pleased you could make it.”

Ariadne smiles, because she knows Eames and has been working with him for the last two weeks, and that’s apparently enough to justify their friendship now. “I’m glad I could make it,” she says, genuine.

He smiles at her and then his attention is completely on Arthur, and his breath hitches in his throat a little. It’s not like he can exactly help it, with those fucking lips right in his face, those blue-green balls of wonder boring into his. “And who are you?”

Arthur tries not to blush, because of course Eames doesn’t know who he is, he’s a fucking Disney Channel star for crying out loud. “I’m Arthur,” he says, and once he realizes how vague that is, he adds, “Lewis. Arthur Lewis.”

Eames quirks a brow, and doesn’t offer his hand. “You’re that Disney Channel kid, yeah?”

Arthur nods, because here it comes, and he’s most definitely getting kicked out now. “Yes.”

Eames grins then, and there’s something about the way that his teeth curve into each other makes Arthur’s stomach clench. “Arthur,” he repeats, and he almost purrs it even, like he’s testing out the name on his tongue.

Arthur most definitely can’t help but blush now, but he doesn’t say anything because he has nothing else to say.

“I’m Eames,” he says, after a beat, like he expects Arthur not to know who he is.

Arthur’s charmed, more than he’ll admit to anyone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he files Eames into the ‘too attractive to function’ and ‘more adorable than puppies’ categories, because both reign true, especially now.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, and then holds out his hand, because he’s fucking polite like that.

Eames shakes it, and there’s a twinkle in his eye that looks borderline flustered. And with Eames’ skin pressed against his own, it’s hard to decipher any emotion because of how hot his skin is, how right it feels. So he might just be making everything up here, but he pretends that he doesn't realize this; Eames being flustered is easier to handle then him being annoyed.

Arthur pulls away when it’s polite to do so, because he doesn’t want to seem like the slightly obsessed fan that he is. Before he can get a solid word in, Ariadne butts in with: “I’m going to leave you two alone. I think I see Shia Labeouf over there.”

Arthur glares at her retreating back, but Eames looks nothing but charmed.


Arthur is on his way to getting fantastically drunk, and in a way that he never imagined.

Eames had talked to Arthur for fifteen minutes before he had completely caved. He had caved in a way that he had never expected. He wasn’t handsy or even the least bit rude, and Arthur liked this because he didn’t treat him like he was the Disney Channel star that he was. They talked about everything from Eames’ fascination with cats, and palms, to Arthur’s plans to try to audition for more serious movies after his contract was up.

Now, by some odd power of God (even though Arthur doesn’t even believe in him), they’re in Eames’ room with a bottle of tequila, some salt, and a lime, and Arthur doesn’t have a clue what they’re going to do -- he’s just happy that they’re alone now, because he likes being alone with Eames.

Eames locks the door behind them, and his heart rate goes up a bit at the thoughts running through his head at that moment. “Arthur,” he purrs, and he’s never heard anything sound more like sex in his life.

He's never wanted anyone more in his life.

Arthur gulps, and tries not to look a little confused. And he really does like drinking as much as the next person does, but he's only tried beer and cheap wine because they're cheap, and he wants to spend his money on something worth his time, like video games and silk shirts that show off his fantastic middle section. “What’re we doing?”

He smirks. “First timer?” He asks, even though it’s not really a question. He ignores the mocking tone of voice Eames uses.

Arthur’s heart falters. “For?”

“You like alcohol?”

Arthur nods, of course he likes alcohol, who doesn’t like it? “Yes.”

“Splendid,” he replies, and opens the tequila bottle.

Arthur takes in a breath through his nose. “What are we doing?” He asks as Eames gets two shot glasses and fills them to the brim with tequila.

Eames grins, almost lecherously. It does weird things to Arthur’s stomach; weird things that he’s not going to focus on now, because if he does, he can’t be accounted for what he'll do to Eames. What he wants to do to Eames right now might actually get him punched in the face.

“Why, darling,” he says this slowly, like he's talking to an incompetent child, “we’re doing body shots.”

Arthur looks at him, not really knowing what to do with his hands, so he shoves them into his pockets. “Alright,” he says.

Eames laughs, taking amusement in him being innocent as fuck. “I’ll do you first, and then you can return the favor,” he says, and winks wickedly.

He tries to ignore his cock jumping in his pants, but it’s nearly impossible, so he just hopes Eames doesn’t notice.

“S’okay,” he says, mainly to fill the silence, as there’s something about this man that leaves him absolutely restless.

Eames looks at him and smiles in a way that Arthur has never seen before, halfway between a leer and being fond. “Take off your shirt,” he purrs.

Arthur gulps. “A-alright,” he says, totally not stuttering. He does as asked, and he can’t help but feel smug at the sharp intake of breath that it receives.

Must be dreaming, Arthur thinks, because there’s no way that Eames would allow a Disney Channel star this close to him, with tequila, and a lime (a lime?). Eames’ eyes go crazy for a second, and Arthur’s pretty sure he’s undressing him the rest of the way with his eyes. He totally does not mind this -- he’s been doing it to Eames for years.

“Fuck,” Eames breathes, and his voice is rough, like it's rolling in lava, something too hot. He’s never heard anything that arousing before, and he's definitely hard as a rock now.

That’s the idea, Arthur thinks. He would really like to fuck this man, or be fucked; he has no preference, and he just wants his cock in the general vicinity of his mouth.

Eames chuckles, “gettin’ ahead of yourself there, darling,” he says.

Apparently Arthur’s inner monologue is completely shot now; he’s totally not embarrassed by this, as this man seems to like it more than him controlling his mouth.

And all the sudden Arthur can’t fucking think anymore because he’s pretty sure those lips are on the skin of his stomach, with his tongue tracing shapes on his belly. He might have laughed, if it wasn’t such a hot move, and Arthur offhandedly noted that the air in the room is steadily getting hotter.

It’s getting almost too hot, but Arthur has always loved the heat.

“Eames,” he whispers, because the only other thing that would’ve come out of his mouth is ‘fuck me’, and he’s not sure how Eames would handle that. Probably with a kick to the stomach. The same stomach that his tongue is currently licking, and it feels too good to stop him.

Then he’s pulling away, and he can’t help the ‘no’ that escapes his lips at this.

This amuses Eames, as everything basically amuses him, Arthur’s finding out. “All in good time.”

Fast, much too fast, he’s taking something in a container -- Arthur’s too blind with lust at this point to decipher what exactly the container is -- and is pouring some out over where he licked his skin. Arthur thinks he just licked his skin for the hell of it, but he keeps this to himself, and he might just store it away for future jerk-off material.

That tongue is worship worthy, almost as much as his mouth is. The room is getting hot, too hot; so hot that Arthur can barely think straight anymore, and he is really fucking thirsty.

“I need you to do something for me, Arthur,” he cuts in, and his voice is like he’s asking Arthur to strip for him, and honestly, in this moment Arthur would probably do anything for him.

Part Two.
Tags: fic: inception, pairing: arthur/eames, rating: nc-17
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