Congratulations!! I followed your link here from a fic you posted and um this is wolfman!Arthur/ Gladiator!Eames kid!fic because I don't even know... I hope you don't mind. There's some gore and some implied attempted noncon if that's okay and lots of references to parts of this verse I haven't actually written yet. I'm going to go hide my head in shame now.
He’s just gotten back from a scouting mission for the Emperor. He doesn’t have the heightened senses of the Hounds but his instincts are good and he knows when something is off. The city is still bustling with life but the compound is quiet, the inhabitants tiptoeing about as if afraid to make a sound. They cast their gazes down when they see him, even the Hounds, and hurry out of his way. He hasn’t seen the Hounds this subdued since Cobb was attacked and Mal killed Senator Cobol. But then their anger was palpable, simmering beneath the silence. Then they were waiting to act, waiting to see if their princess was going to be punished for obeying her instincts.
The Hounds are an emotional lot, not a species to often think before they act. It had been Arthur, their alpha male, who had kept them in line at first until Emperor Saito made the grave mistake of putting Eames back into the arena and all hell had broken loose. Eames doesn’t like to think back on that time, the images of Arthur sedated and caged beside Mal, bloodied and broken, and all the more horrifying because he’d done the damage to himself in his rage at being separated from his mate, still haunt Eames sometimes when he closes his eyes. He still feels guilt for being grateful for the fight, for the chance to flex his muscles and prove to the citizens that being dominated before them by a Hound had not broken him, that he was not weak. He didn’t know that the people didn’t see him that way, that they had, in fact, turned him into some kind of hero when he wasn’t paying attention. In their eyes he had tamed the beast and for that he was, is still, revered. He didn’t know what it would do Arthur to have his mate taken from him without his permission. Eames isn’t a Hound. He can live amongst them for the rest of his life and he will, because he would never permanently leave Arthur’s side, but he’ll never truly understand their passions, their compulsions, their instincts.
This is one of only a few missions that Eames had gone on alone. Usually Arthur comes too, but this time he had stayed behind, distracted when Eames informed him of the assignment. Eames attributed it to the end of Arthur’s heat, which had been rougher than usual on the Hound who had, in turn, been strangely gentle with Eames. It was not that Arthur was usually careless with him, but on this particular occasion he had tied with Eames more times than normal and had balanced the pain of that by fucking him slowly, holding him tightly, and by cleaning Eames thoroughly with his tongue. Arthur had tied with Eames four times in a row without pulling out one evening, filling Eames to the point that his belly became distended with Arthur’s seed and when he began to protest, Arthur had petted him through it, running his hands over Eames’s sore muscles and growling low into the sweat-slicked skin of Eames’s neck.
"Mine. You're mine. Always mine."
Recently during his heats Arthur had begun murmuring about breeding and babies as he lay tied with Eames, panting out endearments that Eames ignored in favor of concentrating on the feeling of Arthur inside of him. He assumed it was a symptom of the heat, which was logical. Arthur’s kind had already nearly died out before the Emperor found them and brought them back to the city, where they were able to flourish once it was discovered they were still human enough to procreate with the citizens. It was in Arthur’s nature to want to carry on his line, but Eames was sure he understood that it wasn’t possible unless he mated with someone else - something Arthur had made very clear would never happen.
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Uh, hi there. I'm not really even sure what this is.
Date: 2012-08-28 03:26 pm (UTC)He’s just gotten back from a scouting mission for the Emperor. He doesn’t have the heightened senses of the Hounds but his instincts are good and he knows when something is off. The city is still bustling with life but the compound is quiet, the inhabitants tiptoeing about as if afraid to make a sound. They cast their gazes down when they see him, even the Hounds, and hurry out of his way. He hasn’t seen the Hounds this subdued since Cobb was attacked and Mal killed Senator Cobol. But then their anger was palpable, simmering beneath the silence. Then they were waiting to act, waiting to see if their princess was going to be punished for obeying her instincts.
The Hounds are an emotional lot, not a species to often think before they act. It had been Arthur, their alpha male, who had kept them in line at first until Emperor Saito made the grave mistake of putting Eames back into the arena and all hell had broken loose. Eames doesn’t like to think back on that time, the images of Arthur sedated and caged beside Mal, bloodied and broken, and all the more horrifying because he’d done the damage to himself in his rage at being separated from his mate, still haunt Eames sometimes when he closes his eyes. He still feels guilt for being grateful for the fight, for the chance to flex his muscles and prove to the citizens that being dominated before them by a Hound had not broken him, that he was not weak. He didn’t know that the people didn’t see him that way, that they had, in fact, turned him into some kind of hero when he wasn’t paying attention. In their eyes he had tamed the beast and for that he was, is still, revered. He didn’t know what it would do Arthur to have his mate taken from him without his permission. Eames isn’t a Hound. He can live amongst them for the rest of his life and he will, because he would never permanently leave Arthur’s side, but he’ll never truly understand their passions, their compulsions, their instincts.
This is one of only a few missions that Eames had gone on alone. Usually Arthur comes too, but this time he had stayed behind, distracted when Eames informed him of the assignment. Eames attributed it to the end of Arthur’s heat, which had been rougher than usual on the Hound who had, in turn, been strangely gentle with Eames. It was not that Arthur was usually careless with him, but on this particular occasion he had tied with Eames more times than normal and had balanced the pain of that by fucking him slowly, holding him tightly, and by cleaning Eames thoroughly with his tongue. Arthur had tied with Eames four times in a row without pulling out one evening, filling Eames to the point that his belly became distended with Arthur’s seed and when he began to protest, Arthur had petted him through it, running his hands over Eames’s sore muscles and growling low into the sweat-slicked skin of Eames’s neck.
"Mine. You're mine. Always mine."
Recently during his heats Arthur had begun murmuring about breeding and babies as he lay tied with Eames, panting out endearments that Eames ignored in favor of concentrating on the feeling of Arthur inside of him. He assumed it was a symptom of the heat, which was logical. Arthur’s kind had already nearly died out before the Emperor found them and brought them back to the city, where they were able to flourish once it was discovered they were still human enough to procreate with the citizens. It was in Arthur’s nature to want to carry on his line, but Eames was sure he understood that it wasn’t possible unless he mated with someone else - something Arthur had made very clear would never happen.