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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"Take a wild guess," Ariadne said miserably. She probably should've just gone back to her own hotel, but she wanted company, dammit, and if there was anyone willing to talk smack about Arthur, it was Eames. "You have such astute insights into the human condition, maybe you can tell me why men are such backwards assholes."

In Eames's defense, he only really talked smack about Arthur when Arthur was within earshot or when he was in a particularly foul mood. In reality, he did have more respect and appreciation for the other man than he led others to believe. Still, at this particular moment, he could understand her sentiments exactly. He had, after all, been using work as a distraction.

"Do you want the long answer or the short one? Either way they're both horribly bias."

Slipping past him into the room, she curled herself on the couch without even a by-your-leave, legs tucked underneath her. "I've got all night," she said, staring at her knees.

"He wouldn't go back with me to my hotel. Which is fine," she hastened to add, "but he made it sound like it's because we're coworkers, and then he got pissy and implied that inviting him back with me was..." She waved her hand in the air eloquently. Even as vague as the insinuation had been - more implied in the tone of his voice than the words he'd actually said - it had hurt, coming from Arthur. Thinking that, even for a moment, even angry as he was right then, he'd thought that about her.

That, now that made Eames's eyebrow quirk upwards in judgmental surprise. Really, Arthur. Sitting down next to her, he rested a hand on her knee in an attempt to give some sort of emotional support. "Pissy Arthur, now that's a sight. He'll never admit that he gets like that, I promise you that. What exactly did he say? I can't properly either explain or reject what he did from just your reaction to it, now can I?"

It wasn't that he didn't believe her, that much should have been obvious. No, it was that, depending on what actually happened, it could be very much like Arthur or very much not, and his curiosity easily got the best of him.

"It was more the way he said it," she murmured. "He said he hadn't realized he was signing up for drinks and sex, like..." She shook her head. He'd never been contemptuous of her before, but for a brief moment as he'd said that, he had been.

"He didn't want to go home with me, and he said he doesn't date coworkers, so I can't imagine why he went out with me in the first place if both of those things are true, that's all."

"That may be my fault," Eames admitted sheepishly, patting Ariadne's knee. "I goaded him, which in hindsight might not have been a good idea. I challenged and he stepped up," With a quiet sigh, Eames considered offering Ariadne a drink but decided against it. No, she looked like she had enough. He needed one though, so he went over to the mini fridge and squatted down to grab himself a mini bottle of scotch, then standing and pouring it into a glass for himself.

"The thing about Arthur is that he has a set of standards that, frankly, do make some degree of sense. He just takes it all a bit too far and lacks the tact and subtly needed."

Ariadne huffed a little at Eames' admission. "What he said to me made no sense at all. I had a really good time. I like him." She was a little drunk, which was why she kept talking instead of keeping the next bit to herself. "I wanted to get laid. It's been a while. He said he thinks I'm attractive but he was doing a shit job of acting like it."

Ah, Alcohol. The term social lubricant was both incredibly accurate and entirely incorrect. Eames would say social butter more than lubricant, because it did as much bad as it did good. She was lucky she came to him instead of rattling on to a stranger.

"Ariadne, you're beautiful--and you look especially lovely in that dress. I know for a fact that he finds you attractive, it's his personality that's riddled with flaws. Also keep in mind that he may have a point, underneath all of that failure to communicate." He said as he sat back down next to her, meeting her eyes in the way he did when he wanted people to know--or at least thing--that he was telling the truth.

The alcohol relaxed her enough in his presence that she didn't have a problem pulling off her shoes - the straps were starting to hurt, a little.

"Thank you," she said in response to his compliment. "I know he - he didn't mean it like that, and he didn't have to sleep with me, but all he had to say was that he wants to take it slow, or something like that.

Why did he have to say, 'we're coworkers' like that makes any difference at all. Like it made any difference with you."

Eames made a wincing face at the suggestion of Arthur wanting to take it slow, because that hadn't been what he meant at all. He knew Arthur well enough, knew how he approached relationships with other people well enough to make an estimate, and that was not where his mind went. "I can't speak for Arthur, but I don't think taking it slow is exactly the issue here."

Taking another sip of his scotch, he leaned back into the couch, making himself more comfortable as he continued. "The difference is that Arthur and I have never, in any context, gone on a date. It's purely physical," He had been telling himself that lie all day, but it was enough of a truth to pass as one.

She gave a heavy sigh. "Doesn't that make it worse? If he would normally be inclined to... Wait, you're still sleeping together?"

When Eames had said that the sexual tension with Arthur was resolved, Ariadne had assumed he meant that they had slept together once or twice, at some point in the nebulous past.

"You're putting words in my mouth, Ariadne. You might want to refrain from doing that," Still, that wasn't a denial. That would be a lie, and he wasn't so much in the habit of lying as bending the truth. Which, coincidentally, was what he was currently doing.

Edited 2010-09-14 00:03 (UTC)

"Don't, just..." She wasn't stupid. Even if Arthur wasn't deliberately stringing her along, whatever he was doing was pretty assholish. And Ariadne hadn't even gotten any sex out of the bargain. He could've at least fucked her before making her feel like crap.

Eames would've.

That was why she did it, she supposed. Because she was frustrated, and Arthur had made her feel like crap, while Eames was here, making her feel better. And if Arthur could do it, well.

Ariadne was a little drunk, too. So it was easy, really easy, to shift around, leaning into Eames' warmth as she pressed her lips to his.

Eames did not kiss back. This wasn't a romance novel, where the universe would work it's magic and Eames would be swept up in a sudden passion. He was easy, sure, but not that easy. Now, he was more confused than anything else. When Ariadne pulled away he just looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not Arthur, Ariadne. What are you trying to achieve?"

"I know who you are." There wasn't any hesitation in her voice. "I don't want a substitute, I just... want."

She'd be kidding herself if she didn't admit to fantasizing about Eames, once in a while. And he was here, and Arthur was an asshole, and she wanted to get laid, dammit.

To say that Eames wasn't interested would be a lie. Ariadne was beautiful. She wasn't the type of woman he usually fucked and ran away from. She was the type of woman he could fall in love with if he let himself, which he never would. No, that was something he kept a tight lock on, never getting close enough for that. Still, the fact still stood true, Eames was not uninterested.

But that didn't mean he wasn't cautious.

"If you want a connection, you're not going to get it from me."

Ariadne made a sound in the back of her throat that was half-exasperated, half-amused. "I'm not stupid, Eames. Just horny." And possibly out for a little revenge, if she was being really honest with herself.

And Eames was sexy.

She straddled his lap, not caring how her dress bunched up around her thighs as she did so.

Well. That was something else entirely, wasn't it? On one hand, he knew this was a bad idea. This would not end well, not with a mildly intoxicated coworker who had a thing for the man he found himself currently infatuated with. No, this could not possibly end well. Still, who was he to deny something put so clearly?

Shit, he was a hypocrite. Arthur was going to murder him anyway, so what was the harm?

"Alright," He said as he glanced down at Ariadne's lace panties and shifted upwards, burying a hand in her hair and pulling her into a kiss.

This was what she wanted, right now. Someone warm and willing (and broad and strong, he was that, too). If Arthur didn't want what she was offering, that was his loss.

Her hands slid into the robe he was wearing, over the skin of his shoulders as they kissed, her tongue exploring his mouth with the same sort of curious impertinence that she did everything.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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