the one where Arthur is a douche (for thesecurity and <lj site="l

[chesstotem]

Ariadne was a little surprised, truth be told, at how well her date with Arthur was going - not that she'd thought it would be bad, per se, but she'd expected a bit more awkwardness about the whole thing.

Instead, what she got was Arthur being charming, handsome and just plain nice, talking easily about work and music and wine, while Ariadne chatted about designing and weird architectural details and they compared notes on a few of the cities they'd both been to.

It was still pretty early, but Ariadne had never really been able to hold her alcohol, so she demurred at the bartender's suggestion of another drink.

"We should get out of here before I start stumbling around in these shoes." They were sensible enough shoes, though still pretty new and liable to hurt her feet if she wasn't careful.

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[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

In truth, Arthur hadn't expected anything at all. He and Ariadne got along well as a general rule--but all their contact had been over floorplans or in a PASIV state, and how that would translate to a dimly lit Italian bar and drinks would have been anyone's guess.

In the end, he'd allowed himself to be pleasantly surprised. It was easy to talk to her, easy to smile and relax. Nice--if he was being honest--to get away from the work and research for a little while and just have a conversation that didn't include hallways and kicks.

Arthur finished the rest of his own drink, whiskey, neat, and glanced down at her shoes. "They're nice shoes," he said, but in the same breath was asking the bartender (in very good Italian) to close out the tab.

[chesstotem]

"Thanks," she murmured, only a little sheepish. "The straps will start to hurt before long, though, if I don't get back to the hotel and take them off." It was perfectly normal for Arthur to compliment her designs, congratulate her on a job well done, but he was pretty careful at avoiding her appearance, usually.

Once in a while she'd caught him looking at her a certain way, though it was easy enough to chalk that up to wishful thinking - she'd had a crush on him since that first job, in Paris.

Still, he was here with her, now, after agreeing to this, so maybe it hadn't been wishful thinking. His smile as he hailed them a cab practically had her convinced, in fact.

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

Perhaps it did, until, he held open the cab door open for her and didn't follow her in. Arthur rested an arm along the frame of the window. "I had a nice night." He had no intention of following Ariadne back to her hotel--something that was now more or less obvious.

[chesstotem]

Well, Ariadne had expected him to be a bit of a gentleman - he was always like that with her, but she had to admit to being a little startled when he didn't follow her into the cab.

"So did I, but it doesn't have to be over. We can have a nightcap, or something."

She figured he didn't take her for the kind of girl who usually invited men back home with her after a first date. He'd be right, more or less, but this was Arthur. She trusted him.

She also wanted him.

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

But, as he'd told Eames, Arthur had only signed up for a drink. He'd had a good time, a good night--and he'd like to leave it that way. Arthur wasn't the type of man to push things, not with a girl like Ariadne. Actually, he'd never been with a girl like Ariadne.

It left him feeling a little flat-footed and it was that--in the wake of her simple question that didn't sound simple at all--that made Arthur think of all the things that Eames had said to him. As if Eames knew anything about women other than how to leave them in his rearview.

Shit.

Arthur rubbed fingers over his mouth and shook his head. "I think it's better if we didn't. Tonight."

[chesstotem]

"Seriously?" It was out of her mouth before her brain had even processed anything. Ariadne did not expect to be turned down, not after such a great night, not after essentially planning on getting laid, not after lusting after Arthur for months.

Frankly, she was used to getting what she wanted.

Was he just not attracted to her? But why had he agreed to go on a date with her if that was the case?

Her face flushed a little with embarrassment. Had she completely misjudged him?

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

Eyebrows raised slightly at Ariadne's question, the incredulous tone in her voice. "Seriously," he repeated, without the question mark at the end.

Even if he had wanted...

She was--

Arthur stepped back from the cab door. "We work together, Ariadne." And the job wasn't over. That was enough to help him keep his head even if he had been inclined to treat her like every other woman he'd slept with--which he wasn't.

[chesstotem]

Now that, that statement was absurd.

The cabbie was waiting very impatiently, so Ariadne waved him off - there were plenty of cabs around, she could get another, but what Arthur had just said was unpardonable - the implication was just plain false, and it pissed her off.

The dress she was wearing, short enough to show off her legs a bit, the nice strappy shoes, the lipstick, the perfume she'd put on - the only other thing she could've done to signal her interest would've been to put a neon sign on her head inviting Arthur in.

Hands on her hips, she glared at him. "Bullshit. That didn't stop you with Eames, unless he was lying to me. If you're not interested, why did you agree to go out with me?"

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

Arthur watched the cab pull off and was going to ask when Ariadne's statement stopped him completely, stiffening his shoulders and pulling any residual amusement or good will off his face. Like that wasn't enough of a tell in of itself that she was right, that Eames had told her the truth, but Arthur wouldn't have lied to her. Unfortunately, in this case, because he was a firm believer that who he was sleeping with was only his own business.

He was going to kill Eames. Third-fucking-party, indeed. Jesus Christ; oh, he was going to make it painful.

Arthur ran a hand down his tie and then pushed both into his pockets. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize that when we decided to go out for drinks that it would include sex." There was no obvious condescension in his tone but that was Arthur; Eames would have certainly caught the flat derision. "And just because I don't want to sleep with you tonight doesn't mean that I'm not interested in you."

It was a true enough statement, but in the context of their conversation Arthur realized belatedly that he'd more or less called her easy. His lips flattened. How had he gotten himself into this much trouble by not sleeping with her?

[chesstotem]

Ariadne's face flushed with embarrassment and anger at Arthur's words. She'd never had sex on a first date before, ever, and the first time she attempted it, the first time she wanted it, it got spit back in her face with derision.

"Then say what you mean, next time, instead of basically saying that you don't date coworkers when we both know that's a lie, and then implying I'm, I'm..." She wasn't even going to say it, because even thinking that Arthur might think that of her made her want to cry.

She wasn't going to cry over a jerk.

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

God, if she'd just left Eames out of it.

Arthur's lips were pressed into a tight line and the tops of his ears had started to match the color of her cheeks. "I didn't mean that you're-- I just--" Oh for fuck's sake. "It's not a lie, either. I don't date coworkers," he didn't date anyone, "I have never dated coworkers. If you want this to be some one-night stand, Ariadne, then fine. I'll follow you back and we can pretend it never happened in the morning."

[chesstotem]

Her own mouth tightened, too, lips pressing together so they wouldn't tremble.

She was a grownup, dammit, she was better than this.

Arthur didn't date coworkers, and he didn't want to have a one-night stand with her, either. So... what else was there to say?

"Fine," she managed, then turned her back on him. She'd walk up the block a ways and hail another cab. A fucking disaster, that's what this was. She wanted it to be over.

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

"Ariadne--"

He didn't want her to walk away mad, if only because things would be just as awkward tomorrow. Arthur took a few long strides to catch up with her, pulling a hand out of his pocket to touch her elbow. "Please. I don't know what you want from me. You're attractive, I had a good time tonight--I just don't think it's a good idea, being romantically attached to people I'm working a job with."

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

Which was really a shame. Eames had always been a fan of the bra. Ever since the first time he had seen a real girl wearing one--she had been sixteen and he had been thirteen--he had appreciated the aesthetic beauty of it. By now, he had experienced enough of them first hand to know what he liked. Not that Ariadne's breasts weren't lovely. They were, but there was something about that irrelevant piece of fabric that he quite liked.

Oh well.

He groaned into her skin, rocking back against her, breaking blood vessels with his kisses. A hand moved to cradle one of her breasts, his thumb rubbing against her nipple.

"Christ, Ariadne...if you would be so kind as to reach over into the--bedside table?" It was where he had put the condoms. He had learned after the years of casual flings--more with Arthur than anyone else to be completely honest--that it was best to keep them near the bed.

[chesstotem]

She nodded, finding them with no trouble. Easy access was clearly the way to go for someone of Eames' lifestyle. His hand on her breast was very distracting, but she managed to get on open, putting it on him with just a little teasing - she couldn't help it, it was just her nature.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

Eames released a breathy chuckle, catching her lips with his again and lifting her hips, sliding her down onto his cock. His breath caught against her lips with a grumble at the back of his throat, his fingers pressing hard on her hips without his consent. "Mmm, Arthur doesn't know what he's missing,"

[chesstotem]

"Oh yeah?" she asked with a little laugh, squirming and gripping his shoulders hard. He was stretching her in places she hadn't been stretched in over a year, though she was kind of embarrassed to admit that to him.

Her hips moved up, then she seated herself on him again, squirming and tightening herself around him with a moan. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Right at this moment, this was exactly what she needed.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

"Absolutely," Right at this moment, Arthur should have been the last thing on his mind. Too be fair, he was pretty close to the last thing, but there he was nagging away, even in the background. But the master of distraction could distract himself well enough, and he thrust up hard into Ariadne's warm heat to start the rhythm, chuckling against her lips with his own smirk of a grin.

[chesstotem]

God, that felt good. She met his thrust with her hips, groaning into his mouth. It wasn't gentle, and that was perfect. She didn't want to be treated like she would break. "Eames..."

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

...was an asshole.

That was all Arthur could think as he walked through the hotel lobby toward the elevators--and then back toward the front doors--and then back to the elevator. He jammed the button with too much force and dragged a hand over his face without bothering to try and look less pissed off than he was. Whiskey... might not have been the best idea. Neither was being here, certainly, but he wouldn't be able to sleep without letting Eames know exactly what he thought of the man's 'third-party' passing on of their private life.

Or private... whatever it was, it wasn't as if life really counted for what they had. Or didn't have.

Or wouldn't have again, if Arthur had his way tonight, because, goddamnit. Eames knew how he felt! And worse was that Arthur knew Eames well enough to know that the man, for all his oh-so-convincing openness, was about as honestly forthcoming with most personal details as fucking Fort Knox. So why in the hell would he tell Ariadne that they'd slept together?

Arthur was in the mood to beat to decent answer to that question out of him. And then maybe fuck him if he asked nicely enough.

No, more whiskey had not been a good idea.

He stumbled slightly getting off the elevator and threw a look over his shoulder at the couple that had ridden up with him as he steadied himself against the closest wall to dig out his wallet. Key, key... Eames had given him a key. Because they were the best of fuck-buddies, weren't they? Of course. And everyone knew it, thank you very much Mr Eames. The condemning piece of plastic was wrenched free from behind his driver's license (fake name, why was everything in his life fake?) and Arthur glared at it before loosening his tie and setting off down the hallway to match the number on the card to a door.

809... 811... 813. Arthur rolled up his sleeves and switched his draped jacket to his left arm to jam the keycard into the door with his right. He had to do it once, twice, before the little light turned green and let him in. Arthur was still trying to decide as he stepped inside whether he should stay quiet and just deck Eames, or alert him enough to make it a fair fight.

He snorted.

Couch, empty. Arthur wandered toward the middle of the room. A half-drank something was on the coffee table. Probably scotch. His lip curled a little into a drunk approximation of a sneer for no other reason than right then Arthur more than a little hated that he knew what Eames drank. Knew what he drank in specific situations, because it was all about appearance, wasn't it? And so long as Eames wasn't ruining people perceptions of his own image--whatever the hell that happened to be on that given day--then the man didn't give a...

He knew those shoes. Strappy. Cute but sensible.

Frowning, Arthur took another step into the room, far enough that it gave him a clear line of sight. Far enough that motion from the revealed bed caught his attention, lifted his eyes from the shoes to the pair of people. Ariadne was unmistakable; it was the fall of her hair. Her voice, making those little noises. And Eames--Eames' hands were on her, big enough to make her look small in comparison.

Something nasty and sharp unwound in Arthur's chest. "What the hell?"

[chesstotem]

Ariadne was making little noises, all right. Whimpers, sighs, moans. She rode Eames hard, her hips rising and falling with each breath. She kissed Eames again, hearing something behind her with the part of her brain that wasn't thinking fuck, yes, more, I'm close, but she didn't fully register it because a twist of her hips against him pushed her over the edge.

She moaned, low in the back of her throat, clinging to Eames as she shuddered with orgasm. Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, however, she realized there was someone else in the room.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

Eames was not so lucky. He had been more than enjoying himself, pulling Ariadne down onto his cock and dispelling every thought of how much he really, truly hated Arthur--hate being a relative term he didn't quite focus on at the present time as, really, he's only human.

But he wasn't so lucky, and the moment the door opened, Eames knew. "Ariadne..." Her name was a quiet warning on his ragged breath, so easily confused with a moan. He kept trying to pull her attention to the fact that they needed to stop, unable to do it himself because Jesus Christ, he was close, and he body just wasn't doing what he told it to do. He groaned when she came but didn't follow, breathing hard and looking over Ariadne's shoulder, right at Arthur.

I can explain was probably the right way to go, but right now, he had far too much pride to go with anything but, "You look absolutely wrecked, darling,"

[thesecurity.livejournal.com]

I can explain wouldn't have won Eames any favors from Arthur, but at least it wouldn't have actively pissed him off. As it was, what he did say--plus the fucking darling tacked onto the end like the bastard that Eames was at all times--dispelled any notions of a fair fight from Arthur's head.

It was very, very fortunate for Eames that Ariadne was in front of him, a lovely, naked, shaking shield... because she was the only thing that stopped him from picking up the heavy scotch glass and throwing it at Eames' head. Arthur was just sober enough to realize that he was drunk enough that he might hit her instead. And she...

Arthur looked away, his mouth set in tight line. "Wonderful." He dropped the keycard on the coffee table and headed back to the door. He couldn't hit Eames with Ariadne on his lap and he couldn't apologize (though why he wanted to apologize to her was beyond him) to Ariadne while Eames was inside of her.

He let the door slam behind him.

[chesstotem]

Ariadne turned her head to look, and got a view of Arthur looking angrier than she'd ever seen him before. Her eyes widened with surprise and she pulled away from Eames hastily, scrambling for a sheet or, or... something, but Arthur was already out the door again anyway.

For once, Ariadne couldn't think of anything to say.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

Which was a good thing, because Eames would not have wanted to hear it. He was glad that Ariadne scrambled off of him, because it meant he didn't have to remove her by force. The moment Arthur turned to leave Eames cursed and jumped up, grabbing his robe from the couch and slipping it on quickly.

"Stay here, don't do anything, and don't leave." Was all he said to Ariadne in the most serious of tones. This was not the time to joke, so the humor that laced his voice on most occasions was entirely absent. It was all so quick, as if it had been calculated beforehand, and he grabbed Arthur's key before heading out the door and chasing him down.

"Arthur."