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

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

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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Her lips were soft.

That was Arthur's thought. They were soft and absolutely different from Eames', even when Eames was a woman. It was the way Ariadne kissed him. Almost entitled but curious enough not to be cocky. Asking, the way Eames never asked. They never asked, they just...

And why was he thinking about Eames?

Arthur opened his eyes as Ariadne pulled away; the hand that had somehow reached out for her hip sliding away... rising, until fingertips brushed a hickey on her collarbone. He glanced at Eames, his look just a little too grudgingly amused to be properly angry.

Eames should leave. For a split second, that was his thought. He should leave if Arthur's hand was going to move in response, if he was going to lean into the kiss. The thought was pushed aside in an instant of course, because this was his hotel room and if anyone should be getting any in said hotel room it was the man who had been interrupted so close to orgasm less than twenty minutes ago.

His eyebrows went up in amusement as Arthur's eyes met his, and he couldn't help but chuckle. And then, there was that idea...

He stood and stood behind Arthur, squeezing his shoulders as if to give a massage. "If neither of you intent on leaving..." He didn't finish the sentence, instead pressing a light kiss behind Arthur's ear.

As a matter of fact, Ariadne had been making similar comparisons as she kissed Arthur - that was a little more giving, a little less demanding, than Eames had been. It wasn't better, or worse, just different. Nice, would probably be the word to describe it, though she'd been thinking he was an asshole just a few minutes earlier.

She did almost forget that they were in Eames' hotel room, though, until Arthur's hand slid to her collarbone and she felt a twinge there - the marks Eames had left, of course. She watched Arthur watching Eames, and at his suggestion her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I... I've never..."

She'd never even thought about it, really, not until now, but now she was thinking about it and she took in a breath, her face flushing.

It wouldn't have been the first time it had happened, though the last time had been months--maybe more than a year. And never with a coworker.

Arthur got the feeling that he was getting very outvoted on that last point.

His eyes lidded slightly against his will at the press of Eames lips and his thumb settled a little heavy on the bruise on Ariadne's collarbone before shifting away. He tucked hair behind her ear and made an effort to focus on her, to shake his head. "You don't have to." Eames could sell sleeping pills to narcoleptics; Arthur would give her the choice.

Funny how he didn't think of refusing now, when Eames' palms were warm and heavy on his shoulders.

Ariadne could see Arthur almost visibly let go of something when Eames touched him. A sharp pang of what she supposed must be jealousy shot through her gut at the knowledge that he'd been willing and able to turn her down, but the same couldn't be said for the man standing behind him.

At the same time, she understood why, especially after what she and Eames had already done.

"Are you kidding?" she said, a little incredulous that Arthur would ever think she'd refuse both of them.

"That sounds like an answer to me, what do you think, Arthur?" Eames asked against Arthur's ear, nipping at the shell like a piece of candy, his thumbs digging into Arthur's shoulder blades.

It was acutely embarrassing, how Arthur seemed to melt just a little under Eames' attentions. It wasn't fair at all. Not to mention that he'd rather not show Ariadne just how...

nothing. It didn't matter.

Arthur cleared his throat and turned his head, ostensibly to get Eames to stop doing that to his ear. "I think I still get to punch you." But he could find no heat to put into the words, and that was almost worse than if he hadn't spoken at all. His hand skimmed over Ariadne's shoulder and down her side before he looked back to her. "You're sure?"

Well, her dress was officially a lost cause. She stood back, just a little, watching both of them carefully as she slipped the dress off, letting it drop to the floor. It was easy to press close to Arthur, effectively trapping him.

"Yes. I'm sure."

Eames chuckled, and as if on cue undid the tie of his robe and let it drop to the floor. As far as he was concerned, it could stay there. "It seems to me like you're a bit overdressed, darling."

Arthur watched Ariadne's dress come off without shame. He still would have said that this wasn't a fantastic idea... but he was far past voicing the opinion--especially when she pressed herself, naked, to his front.

Please. He was only a man.

Arthur dropped his head, his lips brushing over her shoulder. One hand pulled his tie open in response to Eames' words.

Ariadne had to agree with Eames - Arthur had way too many clothes on. She tilted her head to one side, her hair skimming over her shoulders in touseled waves as she started undoing buttons. She looked at Eames, smiling a little though she was still flushed - this was the strangest thing she'd ever done, and the two of them knew each other well.

She hoped she wouldn't be a third wheel.

She hoped she was good.

She was most definitely good, Eames knew that much from experience, and he smiled almost genuinely, as close to genuinely as he would usually get, when she looked over at him. It was a reassurance, a reminder that they would be just fine, that she was entirely welcome. He lowered his hands from Arthur's shoulders to wrap around his hips, tugging on the belt to undo it and pull, dropping it to the floor once it was out of enough loops to slip on its own. Those pants just had to go.

Arthur's fingers just skimmed Ariadne's hips, his mouth against her skin and making himself willingly oblivious to the looks passed between the two. He was sure something was there (Eames being rarely silent unless occupied)--he just didn't want to know. The undressing was submitted to without protest except for Arthur sucking gently on the mark that Eames had already made on Ariadne's collarbone.

God, she wanted this. She hadn't even realized, but she did. Both of them. She and Eames were unwrapping Arthur like a gift, and her hands slid inside his shirt, running over bare skin, tugging it off his shoulders.

Arthur's mouth was at her collarbone, and the mark Eames had made there was throbbing a little as he sucked on it. It made her moan, low in the back of her throat, one of the sounds she'd been making earlier with Eames. It was a needy kind of sound, though a bit more lazy now - she'd taken the edge off already, of course.

"Now isn't that better, the lot of us functioning together, this is much more productive, don't you think Ariadne?" Eames asked with a hint of mirth in his voice as he pushed Arthur's slacks down, dipping a hand unabashedly into Arthur's briefs.

Arthur didn't bother lifting his mouth from Ariadne's shoulder at the disrobing, though light suction became the scrape of teeth for the dragging of fingers across his chest and then the hiss of breath through a soft bite for Eames' hand. Ignoring Eames' words was easier when he didn't have to answer them but the warm palm and familiar fingers were something else entirely. Arthur's back jerked with the sensation, arching, dragging him from Ariadne and up against Eames.

He could feel his ears warming with a faint embarrassement; Ariadne knowing about them was one thing but being able to see him react so easily to Eames' touch felt... almost intrusive. If only because it madea Arthur realize that he was doing it.

Ariadne didn't notice Arthur's embarrassment, or she chose not to comment on it, because it was far too enjoyable to just follow the movement of his body, pressing close so that Eames' knuckles were rubbing against her, too.

Her hands touched Arthur's skin the same way she'd explored Eames, earlier - learning him by touch and feel. He was just as interesting, in different ways.

Ariadne may not have noticed, but Eames did. He could have commented, could have rubbed it in, but he didn't. It was a developing weakness that he vehemently ignored, his weakness for maybe not wanting to poke at Arthur's sores as much as he usually did. Instead he pressed his lips against Arthur's neck, kissing as his fingers stroked his erection, his thumb putting pressure against the slit.

Despite his slim build, Arthur looked no slouch when he was undressed. He kept himself in shape but still managed to be as unlike Eames physically as they were mismatched in disposition. He never thought about how their differences complimented each other, that was admitting something too personal.

It was easier to try and focus on Ariadne, her easy forcefulness, the way she had--even before this--insinuated herself easily between them. Is that why he wasn't objecting to this? Or--

Arthur choked on a moan for Eames' thumb and no, maybe that was why he was slow to object. The scrape of soft facial hair against his skin never failed to wake his nerves up but tonight they didn't get the chance to settle again because Ariadne's clever fingers were on him, tracing him as if she'd draw him later from memory. Arthur breathed out, skimming fingers down over her backside to keep her close as he shifted back against Eames. One hand lifted to cup a small breast, rolling the pert nipple between a thumb and forefinger.

Ariadne was still oversensitized after her first orgasm, so Arthur's touch sent a bolt of heat down her spine. Her hips rolled against him, against Eames' hand, and she whimpered a little, her mouth finding Arthur's for a searing kiss.

Eames's hand continued it's motions, squeezing Arthur's cock every so often to interrupt the rhythm. His lips and tongue and teeth tracing the muscles of his neck, giving every rise and fall of skin the attention it needed. His free hand rested on Arthur's hips, holding him in place. He loved him like this, the open target of his advances, and having Ariadne helping...

It wasn't nearly as unwelcome as he had expected.

He glanced at Ariadne again and, with a twinkle in his eyes pulled Ariadne's lips away from Arthur's to kiss her himself. In the moment when he was pulling away he leaned into her ear and whispered something, smirking as he pulled away and returned to Arthur's neck.

Ariadne's tongue and Eames' attention kept Arthur's mind well from the fact that he had let himself be put into so compromising a position--it was only when he could breathe again, somewhat, and watched Eames kiss Ariadne over his shoulder and then murmur into her ear, that Arthur realized where he'd ended up.

Trying to extract himself helped refocus his thoughts from the way Ariadne looked with Eames' lips pressing against her. Or vice versa. Arthur brought his shoulder up to try and box the other man away from his neck. "What?" It was an attempt at command, but his voice was soft with short breath.

Arthur wasn't getting away so easily. The look that Ariadne exchanged with Eames was completely devious. They were clearly not going to tell Arthur what Eames had said, but what Ariadne did next might give him an idea.

Dropping to her knees, she pulled his underwear off and wrapped her mouth around the head of Arthur's cock, sucking lightly.

Not so easily indeed. Eames's free hand returned to Arthur's hip, gripping tightly enough to signal that he wasn't slipping away without a fight, and this time he didn't expect one. Not with the hint he had given Ariadne, that was most definitely for sure.

As Ariadne dropped down Eames chuckled against Arthur's neck, pressing a neat kiss against his pulse. "Patience, darling, is a virtue you really need to learn," The hand on Arthur's cock slipped off to ruffle Ariadne's hair before slipping around to squeeze his bum.

Arthur's breath caught thickly in his throat as he watched Ariadne kneel and his eyes closed as the wet warmth of her mouth slipped around him, just in front of Eames' fingers. For a moment his world narrowed down to just that.

When Eames spoke Arthur made a sound that wasn't anything like derision and reached up, wrapping a tight hand around the back of the man's neck. The other moved to Ariadne, carding fingers through her hair.

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

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