How You Surprise Me Now
Title: How You Surprise Me Now
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt in round 11: Ariadne is covered in tattoos, but hides them with those scarves and blazers made out of 1960's sofa upholstery. Eames finds out. Title and cut text from "Phenomenon" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I also borrowed a line from the Ninth Doctor at the end, but I doubt he'd mind. :D
Summary: Ariadne had managed to convince everyone she was a straightlaced professional. There was a definite wild side to her, and Eames was about to find out what it was.
His first clue that something was up with Ariadne was when it was sweltering hot in Morocco but she refused to take off her jacket. The farthest she stripped down was to a short sleeved blouse and scarf around her throat. Eames thought perhaps she was shy about her figure, but she had no problems wearing itty bitty skirts or shorts beneath her solid shirts. Even when the blouse was plastered to her skin with sweat, she didn't change into something strappy. Not only that, but she always kept her hair down, and it was always long. That had to be uncomfortable, given how thick and wavy her hair got.
"Ariadne, love, just put your hair up and kick back a spell," Eames suggested, passing her a package of hair ties. "Just looking at you makes me hot."
She lofted an eyebrow at him in amusement. She loved trading barbs with him; it had taken a while, but she understood why he and Arthur did it. It was both a tension reliever as well as a subtle way to reaffirm their friendship. He never pushed it farther, which was a damn shame. "Does it now? Put your libido in check, Eames. We're working a job and should be professional."
Arthur's cheerful agreement grated on Eames' nerves, but he let it slide. The two of them sniped at each other and had a professional rivalry going. Eames would have been surprised if Arthur hadn't responded. He watched Ariadne throw the hair ties into her desk drawer, and Eames wondered if it was punishment for him to be trapped in the office with the two of them when it was the middle of the summer in Morocco and the air conditioning was broken. With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt, glad that he wasn't shadowing anyone today. He was supposed to be going over the dossiers Arthur put together regarding all of their subject's associates, but it was hard to concentrate when his brain was melting. "I give up. I'm coming back tomorrow, when it's not so bloody hot."
"I should have this level wrapped up in an hour or two. I can walk you through it tomorrow, then," Ariadne said, not looking up from the model she was still putting together.
Arthur shut down his laptop as Eames collected his belongings. "You'll be okay to lock up, then?" he asked Ariadne. "I have a few contacts to meet up with this afternoon."
"I'm fine," she said, waving him off without even looking up. "I'll see you both tomorrow."
"Well, now, we've been effectively dismissed," Eames told Arthur in amusement, holding the office suite door open for him. "Novel situation."
"Speak for yourself," Arthur huffed. "I still have work to do."
Eames laughed and headed to his air conditioned hotel room. He grew restless after a while, and wished he had brought some of the files from the office. It was safer not to have any of that information outside of their workspace, but he was bored. Throwing on a tank top and thin linen slacks, he headed back to the office.
It wasn't a surprise to see Ariadne still there working on her model for the levels. What was a surprise was that she had her hair twisted up in a messy bun, the hair ties he had given her keeping it up in place. She had not only taken off the hideous jacket she had come in wearing, but the scarf was on the back of her chair and she was down to a flimsy camisole with thin straps that left nothing to the imagination. She hadn't seen or heard him come in, and her back was to him.
As he got closer, Eames saw what she had been hiding beneath all those layers of clothing. Along her hairline at the nape of her neck was a series of neat black stars tattooed into her skin. Between her shoulder blades was a stylized phoenix with vivid red and orange flames beneath it, the flames disappearing down below the edge of the camisole. Each shoulder carried a tattoo as well; her left held a shield that resembled a police officer's badge and her right held a crescent moon superimposed over a sun. When Ariadne leaned over her model, the camisole rode up and exposed her lower back, which had a rose-covered vine in the classic tramp stamp location.
He had definitely underestimated Ariadne.
She spun around suddenly; he must have made an appreciative noise, for he found her rear to be just as delectable as the thought of her having a wild side. Ariadne's eyes went wide, but he was taken with the vivid monarch butterfly tattooed over her right breast, wings unfurled as if about to take flight from her skin. There were words tattooed over her left side, small letters he couldn't make out as it trailed down beneath the edge of the camisole.
"You have beautiful ink, love," he murmured.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, refusing to take in the fact that there were quite a few tattoos etched into his skin as well. The tank top left most of it exposed, and it clung to his muscles. If her breath caught, it had nothing to do with the fact that Eames was standing there practically drooling at her, but that he had caught her looking less than professional. It mattered to her; she was young and relatively new to the dream sharing business, and she wanted to be taken seriously.
"Got bored, so I thought I'd work on those files a bit." Eames came forward, slowly and smoothly so as not to startle her. "You never showed off your tats. Why is that?"
"You don't either," Ariadne said in a challenging tone. "Would someone take me seriously looking like this?"
"I would," Eames said, eyes on hers. "You've a brilliant mind, Ariadne. Can't help but notice that. The package that brain is wrapped in is downright amazing, too."
The words didn't soften her bristling stance much, though there a faint blush along her cheeks. "You flirt like you breathe," she accused. It was too good to be true, to think that he was sincerely interested in her the same way she had been quietly interested in him.
"Doesn't mean it's not true," he told her softly. He reached out impulsively and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. He let his fingers fall to her shoulder, tracing the edge of the sun and moon on her shoulder. "They all tell a story, don't they? Mine do."
Ariadne suppressed a shiver at his touch and tried to look away from his mouth. It was damn difficult to do, because now all she could think about was his lips over her skin, tracing the colors etched there. "I have work to do," she said, her voice a little shaky.
"We've the office to ourselves, Ariadne. Why not take a break, let the model dry in this damned heat?"
She lofted an eyebrow at him. "Oh? And what's your suggestion for what we do next?"
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Eames said suggestively, fingers sliding down her arm. He smiled at her shiver and licked his lips. "It only goes as far as you want it to, love."
Blinking in surprise, Ariadne looked up at him. She felt positively tiny next to him suddenly, and her mouth went dry. "You're just yanking my chain."
"Not at all," he said, bringing the fingers of his other hand to touch the edge of the butterfly's wing. Slowly, he let his palm cover her small breast, and her lips parted in response. "But you had a degree to finish, and I had unsavory characters to dodge. No one's hunting me now, and you've got those lovely letters after your name." He grinned at her. "If you don't want anything to come of this, I'll live with it. I won't like it, but I'll live with it."
She watched as he came closer, eyes smoldering. She stayed very still as he came closer, then bent his head down to kiss her gently on the lips. She couldn't help but respond, winding her arms around him as she gave herself over to the kiss. When it ended, Eames feathered soft kisses along her jaw and the smooth column of her throat. He traced the edge of the butterfly with his lips and tongue, making her shiver. She ran her fingers along the tribal tattoos on his arm, sucking in a fevered breath. She let it out in a burst of startled laughter at a closer look at the little leprechaun with its fists up tattooed in the center of one arm. "What the hell is this?"
"My sister went to Notre Dame. I got it to commemorate her graduating magna cum laude." He laughed at her startled expression. "I'm sure there's meaning behind each of yours." He lowered his head and ran his lips along the letters inked into the rise of her breast. "Isn't there?"
"I didn't know you have a sister."
"Best not to talk of family if you're on the run, yeah? And it's... complicated."
"Sisters always are," she began with a rueful smile, thinking of her own. The smile faltered after a moment. Not wanting to turn the mood to something dark, Ariadne ghosted her fingertips over the tragedy and comedy masks on his chest. "Was this from when you first started forging?"
Eames grinned. "Ah... You're definitely a swift one. You catch on quick, the things I'd commemorate. What about yours?"
Ariadne gave her rueful smile. "Some are painful. Can I skip those?"
"Time enough to discuss that later, yeah?"
"So we'd skip the butterfly here," Ariadne murmured, touching her chest.
Eames ducked his head down and traced the black lining ink. "This isn't out of the question, is it?"
Breath caught in her throat, Ariadne could only shake her head. She had momentarily forgotten how to speak. She smiled almost shyly as his fingers brushed over the letters on her chest. "That's mirror writing," she blurted. "You know, so you can't read it just looking at me."
"I'll bet I could if we were dreaming, yeah?" he guessed, moving over to trace the inverted loops and whorls of ink. He thought he could make out some of the letters, even so.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. "Yeah. In case I ever lose my totem. The tattoo artist thought I was some kind of art major."
"Oh, you're definitely an artist, love," he breathed across her skin, making her shiver and her desire rise again. "Just a different kind of art, yes?" He smiled at her fondly. "I do hope you don't consider me the Jabberwocky," he said, tracing the inverted lettering that spelled the creature's name.
"Eames," Ariadne whispered, shaking her head. "Does this lose its power, if you know?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so, but I've never really tried something like that."
Ariadne lofted an eyebrow at him. "You haven't?"
"I've thought of changing them in a dream, but not of using it as a totem. Clever Ariadne." He smiled in appreciation and kissed her again.
"And the lettering?" she asked, trying not to give him the impression she was easy. For him she might be, but he didn't need to know that.
"People I've known and lost," he murmured, turning slightly to press his lips against the sun/moon tattoo. "How about this one?"
"I was originally an art major. I thought it was a good idea at the time," Ariadne said with a smile. She saw his eyes track to her other shoulder. "My dad and two uncles are all police officers. When my Uncle Paul was killed in the line of duty, I got that one." Ariadne held her breath as he moved to trace the edge of the tattooed badge with his tongue and lips, reverently sucking at her skin. She could barely hear her own breathing over the sound of his own harsh breaths. Turning her head slightly, she traced his other arm. "What about these?" she asked softly.
"My own memorials. My Gran, friends I once worked with... inside jokes. It would be too difficult to explain." He was still stooped over slightly, so that he was more or less at eye level with her, and he left kisses along the curve of her shoulder. "And your phoenix?"
"Car accident when I was twelve. Nobody thought I'd make it." Ariadne turned slightly and clasped his hand in hers. "My mother doesn't even know I have all of these."
"What about your sister?" Eames asked, licking the flames that were visible above her camisole. "Does she know?"
Ariadne shook her head. "She... She loved butterflies. That's why I got that one." She leaned into Eames' touch when he wrapped his arms around her, pressing soft kisses against the phoenix between her shoulder blades. "You're the only one that knows about these."
"Then it's a precious gift," Eames murmured against her spine.
She turned and pulled at the thin fabric of the tank top. Her breath was fast, too fast, and she was sure that there had to be some kind of smug smile on his face. She pulled back to check, eyes searching his face. There wasn't. All she could see was honest appreciation and desire.
Eames drew one of her hands away from his shirt. "Here. Let me share one with you." He turned slightly so she could see the maze within a spiral that was inked along the inside of his arm. "This was after the Fischer job. Not for the job, mind, but because I met someone very special through it. Someone that made me want more than just running for my life."
Ariadne's lips parted, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Eames..."
"I've waited, Ariadne. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do at the time, you know." He flashed her a winsome smile. "Not everything I do has to have an ulterior motive."
His voice was like a caress, and she felt herself grow hotter under his light touch. Fuck reasonable. She wanted this now.
Ariadne grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down for a hard kiss, her mouth open and demanding beneath his. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and dimly heard herself make little noises of pleasure over the rushing of blood in her ears. Eames' large hands were across her back, slipping beneath the thin camisole to touch her skin. She broke the kiss long enough to draw it over her head and toss it aside, baring her inked skin for his view. He made a growling sound deep in his throat and then lifted her in his arms, devouring her mouth with his. He moved until her back hit the wall, and she crossed her legs around his waist. She could feel his rising erection pressed against her and smiled against his mouth. "Don't be gentle," she growled against his mouth, scratching at his scalp and tattooed shoulder with her nails.
Somehow clothes were shed and scattered, and he licked his way along her neck. He kissed her pulse point, moved down further still to swirl his tongue around her nipple. She clutched at his head to keep him there as one of his hands tangled between her spread thighs. Ariadne was damp already, and Eames chuckled at her breast. "Someone's eager to play," he murmured, then licked her pert nipple.
"Shut up and fuck me," Ariadne said, fingers digging into his shoulders.
His fingers traced her folds and found her clit. Back and forth across the sensitive nub, drawing startled gasps of pleasure out of her. When she came around his fingers, he dropped to his knees and licked a trail up her thigh to take her clit between his lips. He sucked on it as she cried out, fingers tangled in his hair and her head thrown back in ecstasy. "More," she moaned, writhing beneath his mouth. "God, Eames, please, there, more, oh, God..." Eames smiled against her, then leaned back on his haunches to look at her, standing only with effort. She was shaking; if not for the wall, she would have collapsed.
Eames drew her down to the floor and kissed her, the taste of her on his tongue. She grasped his shoulders, pressing herself tight against him. They fell back and she spread her legs wide for him, urging him to shift himself between them. "So eager," he growled into her mouth. "I'd've thought you'd want it slow, savor the first time together."
"Now," she said desperately, raking her nails down his back. "I need this now. Savor later."
Laughing, Eames drove himself home, sheathing himself to the hilt inside her. She let out a delicious sigh at the feel of him, thick and full inside her. Her hands ran down his back and cupped his ass, pulling him in deeper. Eames grunted with the effort to push farther into her with every thrust, his eyes fixed on her rapturous face. He almost hadn't allowed himself to think of this moment before, for fear of making her run. He should have known better. Her snide remarks and sarcastic comments were just surface markers for the wild streak within her.
He loved it. He loved her, as much as he would never admit it. It was a concept that terrified him more than guns or getting lost in limbo.
Eames sucked in a breath as she tightened around him. "Close, Ariadne," he gasped.
"Don't you dare," she moaned. "Not done yet..."
He came anyway. Tight and hot and slick and wet automatically led things to their natural conclusion. He couldn't help it. He managed not to collapse on top of her, and rubbed at her clit until she came with a strangled scream of release. "Forgive me?" he asked with a teasing grin.
"I'll give you five minutes," she said with a sigh. "Then you can make it up to me."
Eames laughed and kissed her mouth, tongue caressing hers. "Sounds like a plan."
He rolled her onto her stomach; she was boneless and languid, almost flowing like water beneath his hands. He ran them along her back, his mouth along the rose-covered vine at the small of her back. Ariadne's breath was in short pants, and he slid his fingers deep within her. He pumped hard and fast, twisting his fingers and curling them to make her moan. Her fingers scrabbled across the industrial carpet, and Eames for a moment was almost sorry they had discovered this here, since rug burns were uncomfortable. He'd gotten them a time or two, though it could also be a welcome reminder to her that this was real. Nobody ever got rug burns having dream sex, after all.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against the tattooed roses. "I've dreamed of this, how you might taste, how you'd sound," he said, his breath warm across her back. "Did you dream of me, darling? Have you hoped something like this would happen?"
Ariadne let out a strangled moan and tried to twist beneath him. "Eames, oh god, Eames, there, that..." She gasped for breath. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop..."
"Answer me, then," Eames said, lips curling into a smile against her skin. "Did you want this? Did I star in your fantasies? Did you touch yourself and dream it was me?"
"Yes," she whimpered. "I want you... so much... Didn't think you did, too."
Eames ran his lips over the curve of her ass as she came again, clenched tight around his fingers. "I'm not blind, darling." He shifted her so that she was on her side and could look at him. "Just... patient," he said with a smile, bending forward to lick her clit as he continued to pump his fingers inside her. He liked it when Ariadne reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly and scratching his scalp when he hit an exquisitely sensitive spot.
"God, Eames," she gasped, canting her hips toward his mouth. "I want... I want to taste you."
He chuckled at the breathy tone of voice she used and shifted his position. "By all means," he murmured, before bending his head down to her center again. He hissed in a breath at the feel of her hand and lips closing around his cock, and he closed his eyes to revel in the feel of her mouth over him. Fingers still curled deep inside of her, Eames tried to focus on licking her in even strokes even as he could feel himself growing hard inside Ariadne's mouth. He was wrong, then. This was better than he dreamed it would be.
Ariadne had a hand around the base of Eames' cock, fingers curling around his balls gently. Her tongue ran down along the length of him, along the slit and then back down. She sucked on him hard, head bobbing as she moved her tongue along his cock. She twisted her head slightly so that he was hitting the soft palate and the back of her throat, and she made a soft humming noise that she hoped reverberated and added to his pleasure. She sucked in a breath at a particularly pleasurable swipe of his tongue along her clit, and she very nearly shrieked around his cock when he did it again. Ariadne dug her fingers into his ass as she inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of him. She was close again, his fingers curling and stretching, feeling her from the inside out. Pulling back abruptly, Ariadne pressed her face against his thigh and sucked hard on the skin there as she came, fingernails digging deep into his flesh.
Wriggling with effort, Ariadne pulled away from Eames and pushed him onto his back. She climbed over him, her legs not quite able to lift high enough. Gracelessly, she sank down over him and clutched at his shoulders. Eames slid his hands up her stomach and cupped her breasts, then pulled at her nipples. Ariadne rocked hard against him, panting, eyes locked to his. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," Eames groaned, feeling her clench hard around him. He tugged at her nipples and Ariadne moved faster over him. She was tight and fast, and he could feel her flutter around him. "Love," he gasped, arching his hips up into her as she came down over him. This deepened her downstroke, and it was enough to make her shatter. Having come once already, he was a little less sensitized. "More," he pleaded, moving to grasp her hips and urge her to continue her frantic rhythm. "Don't stop," he whispered, holding her tightly.
They were both afraid this would be the only time. This would never happen again, they would never speak of it, they would wind up pretending this was only a dream and not something they had both been dancing around for months.
Ariadne panted quickly, mouth dry and bones molten inside her skin. She threw her head back, eyes sliding shut. She could still see his marked skin behind her eyes, feel him hard and full inside her, the press of his fingers against her hips. She pulled one of his hands up to her breast, unable to ask nicely, and he started playing with her breast again. She could almost see his fingers brushing across the vivid butterfly etched into her skin, hovering over her heart. His hands were massive over her body, but she felt comforted instead of afraid. He was protective of her, and the look in his eyes now was more than just lust. She tightened around him and moved faster and harder, as if she could somehow break their bodies apart and meld them together with her sheer force of will. Eames tightened his grip on her almost painfully as he cried out, hands falling to the floor. Ariadne was close, almost there, chasing that one blinding spot she felt when she moved.
She came again, crying out and sinking bonelessly over him. She pressed her face against his neck, breathing harshly and erratically. Eames' arms closed over her back, a hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She smiled against his skin, feeling him stroke the stars along the nape of her neck. She had gotten them to mark the big milestones in her life, so that she would never forget them.
She was going to have to get something to commemorate this, most likely. It would take a while to figure out what it should be, but she knew it would be somewhere else that only Eames would see. If he was interested. She hoped he was, that he would want to stick around, that this was more than just wild hormones and close proximity and business partnership.
"After all this," Eames began softly, his fingers trailing down along her spine. "How 'bout we go back to my hotel room? It's got air conditioning, a soft bed, much softer carpeting than this shite we're laying on and a wonderfully big tub to play in."
Ariadne chuckled. "I didn't tire you out yet?"
He laughed, a low rumble that rolled through her entire body pleasantly. "For you, I'd figure out a way to get my strength back." He gave her a squeeze. "If you want to. As long as you want to."
It was more than the hotel, she realized. He was giving her an out if she wanted it, giving her space in case she didn't want to go down this route, either. It was touching, even if she didn't need it.
Ariadne lifted her head and kissed his lips tenderly. "It's going to be a long time, Eames. Think you can handle that?"
Linking his fingers through hers, Eames only grinned playfully at her. "Darling, I can handle anything life with you will throw at me. I can already tell what it's going to be. It won't be quiet. It won't be safe. It won't be calm. It's going to be a lifetime of trouble, but it's going to be fun as hell. Of course I'm in."
"Good. Let's get to that hotel room of yours. We can start with that bathtub."
The End
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ariadne/Eames
Disclaimer: Everyone here belongs to Christopher Nolan and not to me. His toys are fun to play with!
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-movie. For the
inception_kink meme prompt in round 11: Ariadne is covered in tattoos, but hides them with those scarves and blazers made out of 1960's sofa upholstery. Eames finds out. Title and cut text from "Phenomenon" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. I also borrowed a line from the Ninth Doctor at the end, but I doubt he'd mind. :D
Summary: Ariadne had managed to convince everyone she was a straightlaced professional. There was a definite wild side to her, and Eames was about to find out what it was.
His first clue that something was up with Ariadne was when it was sweltering hot in Morocco but she refused to take off her jacket. The farthest she stripped down was to a short sleeved blouse and scarf around her throat. Eames thought perhaps she was shy about her figure, but she had no problems wearing itty bitty skirts or shorts beneath her solid shirts. Even when the blouse was plastered to her skin with sweat, she didn't change into something strappy. Not only that, but she always kept her hair down, and it was always long. That had to be uncomfortable, given how thick and wavy her hair got.
"Ariadne, love, just put your hair up and kick back a spell," Eames suggested, passing her a package of hair ties. "Just looking at you makes me hot."
She lofted an eyebrow at him in amusement. She loved trading barbs with him; it had taken a while, but she understood why he and Arthur did it. It was both a tension reliever as well as a subtle way to reaffirm their friendship. He never pushed it farther, which was a damn shame. "Does it now? Put your libido in check, Eames. We're working a job and should be professional."
Arthur's cheerful agreement grated on Eames' nerves, but he let it slide. The two of them sniped at each other and had a professional rivalry going. Eames would have been surprised if Arthur hadn't responded. He watched Ariadne throw the hair ties into her desk drawer, and Eames wondered if it was punishment for him to be trapped in the office with the two of them when it was the middle of the summer in Morocco and the air conditioning was broken. With a sigh, he rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt, glad that he wasn't shadowing anyone today. He was supposed to be going over the dossiers Arthur put together regarding all of their subject's associates, but it was hard to concentrate when his brain was melting. "I give up. I'm coming back tomorrow, when it's not so bloody hot."
"I should have this level wrapped up in an hour or two. I can walk you through it tomorrow, then," Ariadne said, not looking up from the model she was still putting together.
Arthur shut down his laptop as Eames collected his belongings. "You'll be okay to lock up, then?" he asked Ariadne. "I have a few contacts to meet up with this afternoon."
"I'm fine," she said, waving him off without even looking up. "I'll see you both tomorrow."
"Well, now, we've been effectively dismissed," Eames told Arthur in amusement, holding the office suite door open for him. "Novel situation."
"Speak for yourself," Arthur huffed. "I still have work to do."
Eames laughed and headed to his air conditioned hotel room. He grew restless after a while, and wished he had brought some of the files from the office. It was safer not to have any of that information outside of their workspace, but he was bored. Throwing on a tank top and thin linen slacks, he headed back to the office.
It wasn't a surprise to see Ariadne still there working on her model for the levels. What was a surprise was that she had her hair twisted up in a messy bun, the hair ties he had given her keeping it up in place. She had not only taken off the hideous jacket she had come in wearing, but the scarf was on the back of her chair and she was down to a flimsy camisole with thin straps that left nothing to the imagination. She hadn't seen or heard him come in, and her back was to him.
As he got closer, Eames saw what she had been hiding beneath all those layers of clothing. Along her hairline at the nape of her neck was a series of neat black stars tattooed into her skin. Between her shoulder blades was a stylized phoenix with vivid red and orange flames beneath it, the flames disappearing down below the edge of the camisole. Each shoulder carried a tattoo as well; her left held a shield that resembled a police officer's badge and her right held a crescent moon superimposed over a sun. When Ariadne leaned over her model, the camisole rode up and exposed her lower back, which had a rose-covered vine in the classic tramp stamp location.
He had definitely underestimated Ariadne.
She spun around suddenly; he must have made an appreciative noise, for he found her rear to be just as delectable as the thought of her having a wild side. Ariadne's eyes went wide, but he was taken with the vivid monarch butterfly tattooed over her right breast, wings unfurled as if about to take flight from her skin. There were words tattooed over her left side, small letters he couldn't make out as it trailed down beneath the edge of the camisole.
"You have beautiful ink, love," he murmured.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, refusing to take in the fact that there were quite a few tattoos etched into his skin as well. The tank top left most of it exposed, and it clung to his muscles. If her breath caught, it had nothing to do with the fact that Eames was standing there practically drooling at her, but that he had caught her looking less than professional. It mattered to her; she was young and relatively new to the dream sharing business, and she wanted to be taken seriously.
"Got bored, so I thought I'd work on those files a bit." Eames came forward, slowly and smoothly so as not to startle her. "You never showed off your tats. Why is that?"
"You don't either," Ariadne said in a challenging tone. "Would someone take me seriously looking like this?"
"I would," Eames said, eyes on hers. "You've a brilliant mind, Ariadne. Can't help but notice that. The package that brain is wrapped in is downright amazing, too."
The words didn't soften her bristling stance much, though there a faint blush along her cheeks. "You flirt like you breathe," she accused. It was too good to be true, to think that he was sincerely interested in her the same way she had been quietly interested in him.
"Doesn't mean it's not true," he told her softly. He reached out impulsively and tucked a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. He let his fingers fall to her shoulder, tracing the edge of the sun and moon on her shoulder. "They all tell a story, don't they? Mine do."
Ariadne suppressed a shiver at his touch and tried to look away from his mouth. It was damn difficult to do, because now all she could think about was his lips over her skin, tracing the colors etched there. "I have work to do," she said, her voice a little shaky.
"We've the office to ourselves, Ariadne. Why not take a break, let the model dry in this damned heat?"
She lofted an eyebrow at him. "Oh? And what's your suggestion for what we do next?"
"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," Eames said suggestively, fingers sliding down her arm. He smiled at her shiver and licked his lips. "It only goes as far as you want it to, love."
Blinking in surprise, Ariadne looked up at him. She felt positively tiny next to him suddenly, and her mouth went dry. "You're just yanking my chain."
"Not at all," he said, bringing the fingers of his other hand to touch the edge of the butterfly's wing. Slowly, he let his palm cover her small breast, and her lips parted in response. "But you had a degree to finish, and I had unsavory characters to dodge. No one's hunting me now, and you've got those lovely letters after your name." He grinned at her. "If you don't want anything to come of this, I'll live with it. I won't like it, but I'll live with it."
She watched as he came closer, eyes smoldering. She stayed very still as he came closer, then bent his head down to kiss her gently on the lips. She couldn't help but respond, winding her arms around him as she gave herself over to the kiss. When it ended, Eames feathered soft kisses along her jaw and the smooth column of her throat. He traced the edge of the butterfly with his lips and tongue, making her shiver. She ran her fingers along the tribal tattoos on his arm, sucking in a fevered breath. She let it out in a burst of startled laughter at a closer look at the little leprechaun with its fists up tattooed in the center of one arm. "What the hell is this?"
"My sister went to Notre Dame. I got it to commemorate her graduating magna cum laude." He laughed at her startled expression. "I'm sure there's meaning behind each of yours." He lowered his head and ran his lips along the letters inked into the rise of her breast. "Isn't there?"
"I didn't know you have a sister."
"Best not to talk of family if you're on the run, yeah? And it's... complicated."
"Sisters always are," she began with a rueful smile, thinking of her own. The smile faltered after a moment. Not wanting to turn the mood to something dark, Ariadne ghosted her fingertips over the tragedy and comedy masks on his chest. "Was this from when you first started forging?"
Eames grinned. "Ah... You're definitely a swift one. You catch on quick, the things I'd commemorate. What about yours?"
Ariadne gave her rueful smile. "Some are painful. Can I skip those?"
"Time enough to discuss that later, yeah?"
"So we'd skip the butterfly here," Ariadne murmured, touching her chest.
Eames ducked his head down and traced the black lining ink. "This isn't out of the question, is it?"
Breath caught in her throat, Ariadne could only shake her head. She had momentarily forgotten how to speak. She smiled almost shyly as his fingers brushed over the letters on her chest. "That's mirror writing," she blurted. "You know, so you can't read it just looking at me."
"I'll bet I could if we were dreaming, yeah?" he guessed, moving over to trace the inverted loops and whorls of ink. He thought he could make out some of the letters, even so.
She threaded her fingers through his hair. "Yeah. In case I ever lose my totem. The tattoo artist thought I was some kind of art major."
"Oh, you're definitely an artist, love," he breathed across her skin, making her shiver and her desire rise again. "Just a different kind of art, yes?" He smiled at her fondly. "I do hope you don't consider me the Jabberwocky," he said, tracing the inverted lettering that spelled the creature's name.
"Eames," Ariadne whispered, shaking her head. "Does this lose its power, if you know?"
He shook his head. "I don't think so, but I've never really tried something like that."
Ariadne lofted an eyebrow at him. "You haven't?"
"I've thought of changing them in a dream, but not of using it as a totem. Clever Ariadne." He smiled in appreciation and kissed her again.
"And the lettering?" she asked, trying not to give him the impression she was easy. For him she might be, but he didn't need to know that.
"People I've known and lost," he murmured, turning slightly to press his lips against the sun/moon tattoo. "How about this one?"
"I was originally an art major. I thought it was a good idea at the time," Ariadne said with a smile. She saw his eyes track to her other shoulder. "My dad and two uncles are all police officers. When my Uncle Paul was killed in the line of duty, I got that one." Ariadne held her breath as he moved to trace the edge of the tattooed badge with his tongue and lips, reverently sucking at her skin. She could barely hear her own breathing over the sound of his own harsh breaths. Turning her head slightly, she traced his other arm. "What about these?" she asked softly.
"My own memorials. My Gran, friends I once worked with... inside jokes. It would be too difficult to explain." He was still stooped over slightly, so that he was more or less at eye level with her, and he left kisses along the curve of her shoulder. "And your phoenix?"
"Car accident when I was twelve. Nobody thought I'd make it." Ariadne turned slightly and clasped his hand in hers. "My mother doesn't even know I have all of these."
"What about your sister?" Eames asked, licking the flames that were visible above her camisole. "Does she know?"
Ariadne shook her head. "She... She loved butterflies. That's why I got that one." She leaned into Eames' touch when he wrapped his arms around her, pressing soft kisses against the phoenix between her shoulder blades. "You're the only one that knows about these."
"Then it's a precious gift," Eames murmured against her spine.
She turned and pulled at the thin fabric of the tank top. Her breath was fast, too fast, and she was sure that there had to be some kind of smug smile on his face. She pulled back to check, eyes searching his face. There wasn't. All she could see was honest appreciation and desire.
Eames drew one of her hands away from his shirt. "Here. Let me share one with you." He turned slightly so she could see the maze within a spiral that was inked along the inside of his arm. "This was after the Fischer job. Not for the job, mind, but because I met someone very special through it. Someone that made me want more than just running for my life."
Ariadne's lips parted, a flush rising to her cheeks. "Eames..."
"I've waited, Ariadne. It seemed like a reasonable thing to do at the time, you know." He flashed her a winsome smile. "Not everything I do has to have an ulterior motive."
His voice was like a caress, and she felt herself grow hotter under his light touch. Fuck reasonable. She wanted this now.
Ariadne grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down for a hard kiss, her mouth open and demanding beneath his. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and dimly heard herself make little noises of pleasure over the rushing of blood in her ears. Eames' large hands were across her back, slipping beneath the thin camisole to touch her skin. She broke the kiss long enough to draw it over her head and toss it aside, baring her inked skin for his view. He made a growling sound deep in his throat and then lifted her in his arms, devouring her mouth with his. He moved until her back hit the wall, and she crossed her legs around his waist. She could feel his rising erection pressed against her and smiled against his mouth. "Don't be gentle," she growled against his mouth, scratching at his scalp and tattooed shoulder with her nails.
Somehow clothes were shed and scattered, and he licked his way along her neck. He kissed her pulse point, moved down further still to swirl his tongue around her nipple. She clutched at his head to keep him there as one of his hands tangled between her spread thighs. Ariadne was damp already, and Eames chuckled at her breast. "Someone's eager to play," he murmured, then licked her pert nipple.
"Shut up and fuck me," Ariadne said, fingers digging into his shoulders.
His fingers traced her folds and found her clit. Back and forth across the sensitive nub, drawing startled gasps of pleasure out of her. When she came around his fingers, he dropped to his knees and licked a trail up her thigh to take her clit between his lips. He sucked on it as she cried out, fingers tangled in his hair and her head thrown back in ecstasy. "More," she moaned, writhing beneath his mouth. "God, Eames, please, there, more, oh, God..." Eames smiled against her, then leaned back on his haunches to look at her, standing only with effort. She was shaking; if not for the wall, she would have collapsed.
Eames drew her down to the floor and kissed her, the taste of her on his tongue. She grasped his shoulders, pressing herself tight against him. They fell back and she spread her legs wide for him, urging him to shift himself between them. "So eager," he growled into her mouth. "I'd've thought you'd want it slow, savor the first time together."
"Now," she said desperately, raking her nails down his back. "I need this now. Savor later."
Laughing, Eames drove himself home, sheathing himself to the hilt inside her. She let out a delicious sigh at the feel of him, thick and full inside her. Her hands ran down his back and cupped his ass, pulling him in deeper. Eames grunted with the effort to push farther into her with every thrust, his eyes fixed on her rapturous face. He almost hadn't allowed himself to think of this moment before, for fear of making her run. He should have known better. Her snide remarks and sarcastic comments were just surface markers for the wild streak within her.
He loved it. He loved her, as much as he would never admit it. It was a concept that terrified him more than guns or getting lost in limbo.
Eames sucked in a breath as she tightened around him. "Close, Ariadne," he gasped.
"Don't you dare," she moaned. "Not done yet..."
He came anyway. Tight and hot and slick and wet automatically led things to their natural conclusion. He couldn't help it. He managed not to collapse on top of her, and rubbed at her clit until she came with a strangled scream of release. "Forgive me?" he asked with a teasing grin.
"I'll give you five minutes," she said with a sigh. "Then you can make it up to me."
Eames laughed and kissed her mouth, tongue caressing hers. "Sounds like a plan."
He rolled her onto her stomach; she was boneless and languid, almost flowing like water beneath his hands. He ran them along her back, his mouth along the rose-covered vine at the small of her back. Ariadne's breath was in short pants, and he slid his fingers deep within her. He pumped hard and fast, twisting his fingers and curling them to make her moan. Her fingers scrabbled across the industrial carpet, and Eames for a moment was almost sorry they had discovered this here, since rug burns were uncomfortable. He'd gotten them a time or two, though it could also be a welcome reminder to her that this was real. Nobody ever got rug burns having dream sex, after all.
"You have no idea how much I've wanted this," he murmured against the tattooed roses. "I've dreamed of this, how you might taste, how you'd sound," he said, his breath warm across her back. "Did you dream of me, darling? Have you hoped something like this would happen?"
Ariadne let out a strangled moan and tried to twist beneath him. "Eames, oh god, Eames, there, that..." She gasped for breath. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop..."
"Answer me, then," Eames said, lips curling into a smile against her skin. "Did you want this? Did I star in your fantasies? Did you touch yourself and dream it was me?"
"Yes," she whimpered. "I want you... so much... Didn't think you did, too."
Eames ran his lips over the curve of her ass as she came again, clenched tight around his fingers. "I'm not blind, darling." He shifted her so that she was on her side and could look at him. "Just... patient," he said with a smile, bending forward to lick her clit as he continued to pump his fingers inside her. He liked it when Ariadne reached down and tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly and scratching his scalp when he hit an exquisitely sensitive spot.
"God, Eames," she gasped, canting her hips toward his mouth. "I want... I want to taste you."
He chuckled at the breathy tone of voice she used and shifted his position. "By all means," he murmured, before bending his head down to her center again. He hissed in a breath at the feel of her hand and lips closing around his cock, and he closed his eyes to revel in the feel of her mouth over him. Fingers still curled deep inside of her, Eames tried to focus on licking her in even strokes even as he could feel himself growing hard inside Ariadne's mouth. He was wrong, then. This was better than he dreamed it would be.
Ariadne had a hand around the base of Eames' cock, fingers curling around his balls gently. Her tongue ran down along the length of him, along the slit and then back down. She sucked on him hard, head bobbing as she moved her tongue along his cock. She twisted her head slightly so that he was hitting the soft palate and the back of her throat, and she made a soft humming noise that she hoped reverberated and added to his pleasure. She sucked in a breath at a particularly pleasurable swipe of his tongue along her clit, and she very nearly shrieked around his cock when he did it again. Ariadne dug her fingers into his ass as she inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of him. She was close again, his fingers curling and stretching, feeling her from the inside out. Pulling back abruptly, Ariadne pressed her face against his thigh and sucked hard on the skin there as she came, fingernails digging deep into his flesh.
Wriggling with effort, Ariadne pulled away from Eames and pushed him onto his back. She climbed over him, her legs not quite able to lift high enough. Gracelessly, she sank down over him and clutched at his shoulders. Eames slid his hands up her stomach and cupped her breasts, then pulled at her nipples. Ariadne rocked hard against him, panting, eyes locked to his. "Fuck, you're so beautiful," Eames groaned, feeling her clench hard around him. He tugged at her nipples and Ariadne moved faster over him. She was tight and fast, and he could feel her flutter around him. "Love," he gasped, arching his hips up into her as she came down over him. This deepened her downstroke, and it was enough to make her shatter. Having come once already, he was a little less sensitized. "More," he pleaded, moving to grasp her hips and urge her to continue her frantic rhythm. "Don't stop," he whispered, holding her tightly.
They were both afraid this would be the only time. This would never happen again, they would never speak of it, they would wind up pretending this was only a dream and not something they had both been dancing around for months.
Ariadne panted quickly, mouth dry and bones molten inside her skin. She threw her head back, eyes sliding shut. She could still see his marked skin behind her eyes, feel him hard and full inside her, the press of his fingers against her hips. She pulled one of his hands up to her breast, unable to ask nicely, and he started playing with her breast again. She could almost see his fingers brushing across the vivid butterfly etched into her skin, hovering over her heart. His hands were massive over her body, but she felt comforted instead of afraid. He was protective of her, and the look in his eyes now was more than just lust. She tightened around him and moved faster and harder, as if she could somehow break their bodies apart and meld them together with her sheer force of will. Eames tightened his grip on her almost painfully as he cried out, hands falling to the floor. Ariadne was close, almost there, chasing that one blinding spot she felt when she moved.
She came again, crying out and sinking bonelessly over him. She pressed her face against his neck, breathing harshly and erratically. Eames' arms closed over her back, a hand coming up to cup the back of her neck. She smiled against his skin, feeling him stroke the stars along the nape of her neck. She had gotten them to mark the big milestones in her life, so that she would never forget them.
She was going to have to get something to commemorate this, most likely. It would take a while to figure out what it should be, but she knew it would be somewhere else that only Eames would see. If he was interested. She hoped he was, that he would want to stick around, that this was more than just wild hormones and close proximity and business partnership.
"After all this," Eames began softly, his fingers trailing down along her spine. "How 'bout we go back to my hotel room? It's got air conditioning, a soft bed, much softer carpeting than this shite we're laying on and a wonderfully big tub to play in."
Ariadne chuckled. "I didn't tire you out yet?"
He laughed, a low rumble that rolled through her entire body pleasantly. "For you, I'd figure out a way to get my strength back." He gave her a squeeze. "If you want to. As long as you want to."
It was more than the hotel, she realized. He was giving her an out if she wanted it, giving her space in case she didn't want to go down this route, either. It was touching, even if she didn't need it.
Ariadne lifted her head and kissed his lips tenderly. "It's going to be a long time, Eames. Think you can handle that?"
Linking his fingers through hers, Eames only grinned playfully at her. "Darling, I can handle anything life with you will throw at me. I can already tell what it's going to be. It won't be quiet. It won't be safe. It won't be calm. It's going to be a lifetime of trouble, but it's going to be fun as hell. Of course I'm in."
"Good. Let's get to that hotel room of yours. We can start with that bathtub."
The End