[fic] Princesses

[kiyala.livejournal.com]

Title: Princesses
Author: kiyala
Word Count: 2,032
Fandom: Inception
Pairing: Arthur/Eames (only, they're both genderbent)
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, sex, genderbending
Notes: I am cheerfully shifting ALL BLAME for this onto 1st_eggokage. She mentioned the Princess Maker on Doll Divine and I just had to make Disney princess versions of Arthur and Eames. And then I had to give them a story. HAD TO.

The dolls: Arthur | Eames

Arthur hates these parties; she hates the people who go to them and she hates being forced to interact with them. She’s known all of her fellow princesses ever since childhood and she still remembers the way they’d always teased her for her masculine name—her father had always wanted a son to be his heir and had refused to name her anything else—and while she can appreciate beautiful things, she has no desire to spend the entire evening dressed in something so comfortable that she can barely breathe. Her dress tonight is a simple black affair, nothing like the puffy, colourful creations she sees on everyone else, accented only by her silver jewellery—understated, just the way she’s always liked it—and an underbust corset. She’s always been the odd one out; more interested in hunting and fighting than spending her time indoors. It had made it much easier to get along with her father before he’d passed, but these parties always remind her of how little she fits in with the others. There was one exception—but no, she doesn’t allow herself to think of that. She focuses on what is ahead of her, not in the past. She is an extremely practical person. The rest of the princesses are… not. She enters King Saito’s castle with the intention of socialising for just long enough before finding a corner to spend the rest of the night in—or, if she is lucky, spend the rest of the party in the library. “Arthur!” she’s greeted by the familiar voice of Princess Ariadne, the only other princess whose company she can tolerate. She stops in her tracks and Ariadne approaches, linking their arms together. “I was worried you wouldn’t turn up!” “It was a close thing,” Arthur mutters as they weave their way through the crowd, “I swear, these things are nothing more than an opportunity to show off.” “And you’d much rather show off in a sporting arena to savour the look of surprise when you beat princes at their own games,” Ariadne finishes, grinning. “Well.” Arthur doesn’t bother denying it. “I’m glad you came tonight. It’s definitely going to be interesting. Princess Eames is back from her trip abroad. I haven’t seen her in…” “Five years,” Arthur says distantly. Five years ago, they’d been in their late teens and Eames had… “Arthur?” “Five years,” she repeats, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. “You think she would have learned to match her colours in that time? I’ll bet you an entire pouch of gold that she shows up in something eye-searing like purple and green.” “Why do you hate her so much? And anyway, princesses don’t gamble,” Ariadne chides lightly. Arthur snorts derisively. “Come on, they’re asking everyone to sit down for dinner.” They’re ushered to their table and everyone else is sitting, except for one space opposite Arthur. She does her best to ignore this as the appetisers are brought out, but she cannot deny the way her heart leaps into her throat when she hears a familiar voice over the soft music being played in the background. “Excuse me—oh, I’m so terribly sorry for being late.” It’s Eames, being led to the table by one of the servants, and Arthur takes a deep breath before looking up. It turns out that Eames is wearing purple, but the dress looks devastatingly good on her. Her jewellery sways with every step and when she stops at her seat, across the table, Arthur can hear her breath hitch. “Well, Arthur.” She smiles, but it isn’t the same, easy flash of teeth she shows everyone else. It’s measured, careful, and Arthur cannot look away from her eyes, as much as she wants to. “I haven’t seen you in such a long time.” One of the other princesses mentions that Eames hasn’t seen any of them in a long time and begins updating her on all of the gossip she’s missed. Arthur forces her gaze to her plate, letting the conversation bleed into the rest of the white noise that fills the dining hall. She doesn’t allow herself to look up, not when she hears Eames’ voice, not when she can feel Eames’ eyes on her, and definitely not to let her eyes trace the curves of her bare shoulders. Dinner finishes and Arthur hasn’t eaten very much. Ariadne looks at her with concern, but doesn’t mention it. Arthur is thankful. Saito welcomes them all to the castle and the music starts in the ballroom. Ariadne is asked to dance by a nervous prince with pale blue eyes and the rest of the princesses quickly pair off with other princes, disappearing into the ballroom, leaving only Arthur and Eames, sitting across from each other in silence. “Arthur—” “If you’ll excuse me,” Arthur gets to her feet, making her way out of the dining hall and walking in the opposite direction to the ballroom, away from the noise and the crowd. She’s been to Saito’s castle enough times to be familiar with its layout; she climbs the stairs, making her way to the balcony that overlooks the garden. A warm hand on her wrist makes her jump—she hadn’t even noticed Eames following her. She tries to pull out of Eames’ grip, but it only tightens. She meets Eames’ blue-green eyes, taken aback by the fondness she sees there. “Arthur, I missed you.” Finally pulling free of Eames’ grip, Arthur holds her wrist to her chest, as if it’s been burned. Her voice is cold when she says, “You certainly didn’t show it.” Eames sighs. “Arthur, that week we spent together before I left—” “Was a mistake, I get it,” Arthur cuts in bitterly. “It’s my fault that I let it mean so much to me—” “I was going to say that it was the most wonderful week I’ve ever had,” Eames says softly. “Wait—what did you say?” Arthur’s cheeks burn, but she still sounds angry when she says, “I didn’t hear from you for five years. How can you expect me to believe that?” “I thought of you every day,” Eames sounds sincere, but Arthur reminds herself that the woman in front of her has spent the last five years of her life conning her way through foreign lands for the sake of amusement. “I… didn’t think you cared, Arthur. I didn’t want to send you a love letter to be met with disinterest.” “A love letter,” Arthur repeats disbelievingly. “Yes,” Eames is exasperated, running a hand through her hair, “I trust you know what those are. Dear Arthur, I dreamt that we were together again last night. Dear Arthur, there was a girl I passed in town today who reminded me of you. Dear Arthur—” “Okay,” Arthur sighs. “Okay, I get it.” “Darling, I’m not sure you do,” Eames places a hand on Arthur’s cheek, her thumb stroking the soft skin. She leans towards Arthur, eyes hooded and dark. “I don’t think you understand how badly I’ve wanted to see you again.” Eames runs her free hand through Arthur’s short hair, and it’s just like five years ago, when they weren’t yet twenty, when they’d kissed each other for the first time in Arthur’s garden. Something breaks in Arthur and just like that, the emotional distance she’d forced between them disappears into nothing. She reaches for Eames, closing the gap between their lips, their arms winding around each other. “Elizabeth,” Arthur gasps between kisses. A long time ago, when Arthur was still being teased for her name, Eames had decided that she would respond only to her family name and now, barely anybody can get away with using her first name. Arthur, however, is an exception. She always has been. Eames holds Arthur’s face in both hands and their kiss is slow, passionate, and they’re both breathless when they pull apart. “I’ve always loved you,” Eames murmurs and somehow, she manages to keep her tone light, as though she’s talking about the weather and not baring her heart for Arthur. It’s impossible for Arthur to hide her smile. “You idiot. What if I had someone else by the time you returned?” “You wouldn’t find anybody who could possibly care for you more than me,” Eames says with conviction. “But then I would just have to win you back, wouldn't I?” “Confident, aren’t you?” Arthur chuckles and Eames kisses her neck, on either side of the silver choker she wears. “Mm, I gave this to you before I left,” Eames murmurs. She touches the bracelet around Arthur's wrist. “This too. You still wear them, after all this time. I think that says enough.” Arthur places her gloved hands on Eames’ bare shoulders, pulling her into another kiss. “You know my tastes.” “Darling,” Eames laugh is rich as she slides her hands down over Arthur’s hips. “I am your tastes.” “Elizabeth…” Arthur’s voice is slightly warning as Eames’ hands stray lower. “You know what these skirts do to me,” Eames’ voice is husky and it sends a thrill down Arthur’s spine. “We’re in public. I doubt King Saito would be very happy if we were caught in a compromising position on his balcony.” “Well then,” Eames pulls Arthur’s hips flush against her own, “I think that—as a favour to the king—we’d better find a private room so I can do exactly what I want to you.” Normally, Arthur likes to think she would protest for the sake of propriety. Except it’s been five long years and she and Eames are eyeing each other with a hunger that has never faded. “Let’s go.” They lock themselves in the nearest guest bedroom and the look in Eames’ eyes turns predatory as she backs Arthur towards the bed, licking her lips. “You look—good,” Arthur murmurs as the back of her knees meet the edge of the bed. “I was expecting you to wear the loud, clashing colours you liked so much before but even in this, you stand out among everyone else.” “Maybe to you,” Eames smiles. “Always, to me.” They undress each other slowly, taking their time to reacquaint themselves with each other’s bodies. Eames kisses and sucks on Arthur’s pale skin, making her way down from the slender neck, down her chest and stomach. She settles on her knees, holding Arthur’s knees apart and licking into her wet heat, savouring the breathy gasps this earns her. “Liz,” Arthur moans, arching off the bed, her fingers tangled in Eames’ long hair. She hasn’t taken her gloves off and she pulls them off with her teeth so she can feel Eames’ skin beneath her hands, pulling her back up to kiss her. “Come for me, Arthur,” Eames growls into her ear. “I’ve wanted this for—for such a long time. Please.” Arthur buries her face into Eames’ neck, mouth falling open in a wordless moan when she feels two fingers being pushed into her. She rocks her hips helplessly as Eames kisses her jaw. “I’m whisking you away from this party,” Eames murmurs, her other hand fisted in Arthur’s short hair. “I’m taking you back to my castle and I’m going to show you all the wonderful things I’ve bought on my travels to keep me company when I missed you, Arthur. I’m going to use them all on you. I’m going to keep you in bed until we make up for what we’ve missed—” “Ah,” Arthur’s hands are like vices on Eames’ shoulders. Eames has three fingers in her now, thrusting in and out roughly, and she can feel the way Arthur grinds into them desperately, the sounds escaping her throat beyond her control, a litany of ah, ah, ah, ah, until she releases with a low moan. “Yes,” Eames is breathless as she watches the pleasure play out on Arthur’s face. “Just like that, my princess.” When Arthur can breathe evenly again, she pulls Eames close, to whisper into her ear. “I promise you. The moment we’re alone in your castle, I’m going to make you scream.” Eames’ smile is wicked, her eyes glazing for a moment. “Well in that case, we’d better leave right now, don’t you think?” Arthur smirks, slipping back into her dress. “Lead the way.”

x