This was written for the kink meme, for a prompt that wanted competingly-loud sex. I'm not so good at explicit, so this little 'censored' snippet was written instead.
Pairings: Ariadne/Arthur, Eames/Robert. I don't ship them, but I couldn't resist the prompt.
Disclaimer: I do not own Inception!
It's just past eleven when the loudest moan yet can be heard through the wall. Finally fed up, Eames slips a bookmark into his paperback and looks up, taking off his reading glasses. He sighs. "This has to stop," he says.
"That's what you said two hours ago," mumbles Robert. He's in his pajamas – has been for quite some time – and is curled up under the covers. The frown line creasing his forehead is a clear indicator that he isn't even close to sleep, though. He opens his eyes. "Can't we just bang on the wall? Or call the front desk?"
"I have a feeling Arthur would skin me alive if I did that," Eames says. There's a low moan from the other room and then the thumping starts up again. Robert sits up and gives a wary glance to the print mounted above their own bed, which is rocking on the wall. "No. I have a better idea."
"What?" Robert rubs at his eyes. "Please tell me it's not illegal."
"Still with these hang-ups of yours," Eames teases, getting up and sitting on the coverlet beside him. "No, it's perfectly legal. Let's be louder." He lays a hand suggestively on Robert's thigh over the sheet. "You can beat Ariadne in a volume contest hands down."
Robert flushes red to his ears. "That's- You're filthy. No. I have a meeting tomorrow morning. They'll stop on their own. They have to."
"I hear Arthur can have multiple orgasms," Eames confides speculatively, studying the wall.
"I didn't need to know that."
"Sorry, pet, but we really need to take matters into our own hands. Yes, hands-on problem solving. That will do the trick." He's tugging the blanket down as he speaks, Robert offering little resistance, and then he's palming Robert's cock through his flannel pants. He can feel it respond quickly to his touch and smirks. "You're eager enough, it seems."
"Fuck you," says Robert, and draws him into a messy kiss.
"Pass the butter, please," Ariadne says, and covers a yawn. She looks exhausted. She's even got her hair pulled back today. "Arthur? I said…"
"Sorry. I heard you." He hands her the butter dish. His attention is on someone across the room, on whom he's spying over the top of his newspaper.
"Is that Eames over there?" Ariadne sets the knife aside and takes a bite of his toast. "Tell him he sucks."
Arthur sniffs. "I don't plan on talking to him at all for some time."
Unfortunately, that's when Eames decides to join their table, wending his way through the hotel restaurant with ease. He's cheerful when he arrives, disgustingly so. "Good morning," he pronounces, and steals Ariadne's other slice of toast. "Sleep well?"
"Quite well, yes," says Ariadne, covering another yawn. "No thanks to you."
"If Robert were here, he'd be blushing," says Eames, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "But I assure you, I have no such sensibilities." He takes a bite of toast. "Of course, if you ever want to have a proper contest, I'm sure he'd be willing…" He ducks away laughing before Arthur can hit him with the newspaper, and even has the gall to start whistling.
Ariadne puts her face in her hands.
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