Gentle or soft wasn't anything that Eames was expecting. And when Ariadne kissed her, she slid her hand into Ariadne's hair, the other bracing on the wall behind her and pressing her body against Ariadne's.
It wasn't so much that she wanted to (even if she did, a tiny bit) as that she wanted to dominate the kiss, pressing her tongue into Ariadne's mouth and using teeth, lips and tongue to wrest control of it.
Ari didn't roll over and play dead, so to speak, but she did let Eames take dominance of the kiss. It was easy enough to do with the way she was enjoying herself, and it would be easy to claim she'd kissed Eames properly that way.
When given the option to push, Eames always will. It was easy to claim she was one-upping Ariadne when she pushed a leg between hers, tugging on her hair to tilt her head back.
"My mother taught me better." He shot back with a quirk of his lips.
"I won't need them until the morning after tomorrow to get you into the program itself. Today I'll have enough to do with the other research and threading you a school history."
"Well, if I ever meet her, I'll be sure to take her out to lunch as thanks," Eames teased back, faintly wondering what Arthur's mother was like.
"Good, then I'll have enough time," she said, sitting down on the desk and crossing her legs, looking through the other printout he'd handed her.
True to form, when she went to her hotel room there were no art papers, and she spent most of the night sketching forms in her various skillset, careful to make them not quite as good as she normally managed.
When she brought them to Arthur the next work morning, dressed in a heavy woolen sweater and skirt, she was yawning and had circles under her eyes, and was stumbling to the 'kitchen' section of the warehouse for tea or coffee.
Arthur could feel his smile growing slowly at the cuddling, because that's what it was, wasn't it? He couldn't remember experiencing it that much in his time with people.
It was actually nice. And... oddly reassuring.
Slowly, almost experimentally, the arm around her pulls her closer to him and his face is going into her hair. He's seeing what this "cuddling" is like from his own end, rarely having experienced it before after sex himself.
Eames smiles wide and then relaxes against him, curling an arm over his back and the other hand around the back of his arm. Her legs tangle with his, and she buries her own face against his shoulder with a sigh.
Arthur hadn't returned until later that night, allowing himself to be talked into going to dinner with the team's architect and extractor for once. They had been just as surprised as he had been at his agreeing to go (although not nearly as surprised as not getting any messages from Eames on his phone while he had been out - and yet oddly hurt at the same time).
He was still mulling over the jumbled mess his internal world seemed to be forming itself into, almost wondering how he'd be able to focus completely on the job at this rate when he'd need to, when he finally got back to his room.
The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was how the lamp by the couch was not suppose to be on. And he was reaching for his gun when blonde hair came into view and he stopped. Frozen in the doorway for a moment, he didn't say anything until after he had closed the door behind him. Brow furrowed, frowning, "What are you doing here?"
She had waited a while, almost dozed off, but the sound of his door opening had woken her. Springing to alertness because she'd always tried to train herself to do that, she unfolded herself from the couch and stood, brushing out the gauzy skirt she was wearing.
"I came to see you," she said sweetly, almost affectionately, but her tone turned harder as she continued, "Since you've been avoiding me and won't answer my calls."
She moved closer, hands on her hips.
"A lady appreciates being told she's being dumped instead of getting a cold shoulder. Or were you just going to write me a letter?"
Ever the flair for the dramatic, she assumed that's what his intention was in the end.
Arthur frowned more the longer Eames spoke, "I'm not dumping you, Eames. I told you I was busy." He then made to move past her, really not wanting to talk about any of this right now.
He wasn't going to deny that he had been avoiding talking to Eames; but he had more been avoiding the subject of them as a couple more so than just her...
Comments 48
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It wasn't so much that she wanted to (even if she did, a tiny bit) as that she wanted to dominate the kiss, pressing her tongue into Ariadne's mouth and using teeth, lips and tongue to wrest control of it.
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She huffed slightly. "Is tomorrow okay? I'm not sure I brought any with me, and I'll have to do some tonight if that's the case."
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"I won't need them until the morning after tomorrow to get you into the program itself. Today I'll have enough to do with the other research and threading you a school history."
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"Good, then I'll have enough time," she said, sitting down on the desk and crossing her legs, looking through the other printout he'd handed her.
True to form, when she went to her hotel room there were no art papers, and she spent most of the night sketching forms in her various skillset, careful to make them not quite as good as she normally managed.
When she brought them to Arthur the next work morning, dressed in a heavy woolen sweater and skirt, she was yawning and had circles under her eyes, and was stumbling to the 'kitchen' section of the warehouse for tea or coffee.
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It was actually nice. And... oddly reassuring.
Slowly, almost experimentally, the arm around her pulls her closer to him and his face is going into her hair. He's seeing what this "cuddling" is like from his own end, rarely having experienced it before after sex himself.
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He was still mulling over the jumbled mess his internal world seemed to be forming itself into, almost wondering how he'd be able to focus completely on the job at this rate when he'd need to, when he finally got back to his room.
The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was how the lamp by the couch was not suppose to be on. And he was reaching for his gun when blonde hair came into view and he stopped. Frozen in the doorway for a moment, he didn't say anything until after he had closed the door behind him. Brow furrowed, frowning, "What are you doing here?"
Reply
"I came to see you," she said sweetly, almost affectionately, but her tone turned harder as she continued, "Since you've been avoiding me and won't answer my calls."
She moved closer, hands on her hips.
"A lady appreciates being told she's being dumped instead of getting a cold shoulder. Or were you just going to write me a letter?"
Ever the flair for the dramatic, she assumed that's what his intention was in the end.
Reply
He wasn't going to deny that he had been avoiding talking to Eames; but he had more been avoiding the subject of them as a couple more so than just her...
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