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]

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.