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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[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

For Eames, it was like flipping a switch. He could be gentle, loving, a good friend with soft hands, but that wasn't what either of them wanted. No, he would give her what he gave Arthur, or at least, what he started out giving Arthur before he fell in a bit too deep.

He pressed into the kiss, tongue and teeth and lips, placing his scotch glass on the table to free his hand before working the tie of his robe off. He removed his other hand from Ariadne's hair only to push his robe off, to allow it to pool underneath him, before returning it to it's previous position, his lips never leaving Ariadne's.

[chesstotem]

She let her hands wander over his skin, tracing tattoos and mapping it out - it was her nature to be tactile, to learn by reaching out and touching a thing.

Eames was naked under the robe, not that she minded in the least. She shifted her hips, humming in the back of her throat as the fabric of her dress rode up even higher.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

It was something the two had in common, to learn by usage of every sense possible, touch most definitely included. Eames undid the back of her dress, pulling away from her lips only to pull it up and tossing it away. He nipped and licked at her neck, running fingers along her shoulder blades, her spine, the dip of her hips, the line of her pelvis.

[chesstotem]

Ariadne hadn't been kidding when she said she was horny. Eames' hands on her made her skin tingle deliciously. It had been a while since anyone had touched her like that, and she moaned, rolling her hips against him invitingly.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

Eames couldn't help but chuckle into her neck, licking a trail down to her collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave marks. "Eager, aren't we?" One hand stayed on her lower back, but the other slipped down, pressing against her panties, rubbing circles through her clothes, anything but gently.

[chesstotem]

It had to be easy for him to tell - she was already wet, and her eyes fell closed at his touch. She didn't even care that he was leaving marks. It felt good. "It's been a while," she managed, one hand sliding down to stroke him gently.

[perfectforgery.livejournal.com]

"I'm glad I can't say the same," He didn't go into details, humming a pleased sort of hum into her skin as he jerked his hips gently into her hand. Regaling her stories about how Arthur fucked him into the mattress might work so well right at that very moment. He pressed his palm harder against her, his thumb rubbing her clit through lace before he moved his hand away and grabbed her hips and pulled her close, sitting up.

They were relocating.

"As lovely as this couch is, I think you should wrap your legs around me so you don't go tumbling."

He warned before heaving her up and stepping quickly over to the bed and sitting back down with her on his lap. Much better.

[chesstotem]

Ariadne was happy to comply with his request - much more room on the bed, much softer, easier to maneuver.

She had no doubt that she was far from the most experienced lover Eames had ever had, but she knew what felt good, and what felt good right now was her hand braced on his shoulder as she rocked herself against him. She discarded her bra, another irrelevant piece of fabric, nothing more than an obstacle to more contact with skin.

She was hot, her skin flushed and breath ragged.