[Arthur's already slowing steps halt with the touch. (Warm. The fingertips were warm and he has to physically restrain himself from covering the spot with the other palm-- although isn't that stupid.) He glances back the way they'd come, unsure now how far they'd ended up walking. Arthur hasn't realized until tonight, until now, just how cut off he'd been since he'd packed his things and walked out of the door of his D.C. condo knowing that he wouldn't be back anytime soon. It was a conscious effort, yes, and something he'd wanted, certainly... and the Cobbs are a rare and amazing set of people but in the end they are and will always be The Cobbs.The Cobbs and Arthur. Not a great name for a band
( ... )
Sounds, [Arthur murmurs, and the return smile can be heard in the words] like a bad movie.
[But he will remember. I'm beholden to me.
The difference in their heights is negligible. Arthur doesn't have to stand on his tiptoes or crane his neck-- just a tilt of his chin brings their mouths together. And it's true that for this moment he's not planning anything, he's just enjoying Arthur's hand on him and the soft give of his mouth. There's no reciprocated touch; no fingers on sleeve or in hair... but he steps closer, brings himself in until the space between them is indistinguishable.]
APPROPRIATE ICON AND EVERYTHING c:fraudMay 19 2011, 05:49:38 UTC
[ At first Eames does nothing, just allows Arthur the opportunity to rethink his decision, to rearrange his position away from or closer to Eames as he sees fit; allows Arthur to kiss without consequence -- but only for a moment.
Then Eames' mouth is changing shape, the corners tightening, his lips growing less soft and more curved, complicating the simplicity of a single kiss. The hand on Arthur's neck tightens now, grows insistent that Arthur kiss him harder and so Eames pulls even though there's no gap to close between the both of them. He hums with low satisfaction in his throat, making his lips buzz slightly as he kisses Arthur again -- lips parting just far enough to tear down any illusion of chastity, the tip of Eames' tongue darting out to swipe across the seam of Arthur's mouth. ]
WHICH IS EASIER WHEN YOUR PB IS A HO ^O^ *will need to find a good icon for future use*is_on_pointMay 19 2011, 06:07:53 UTC
[There's a sharp little intake of breath for the way the kiss changes and Arthur does brings his hands up-- without thought palms press against the other Arthur's stomach to keep himself steady, damp skin probably wrinkling that offensive shirt. For a moment that's all he can manage to do, hang on. He's not kissing so much as being kissed; fingers are tight on his neck and mouth demanding against his and that hum lights up every nerve that he in his body.
Arthur's lips part. They part and he lets himself forgot about politeness for just the moment, about decorum and propriety. He turns his head just enough so that they fit together better, so that he can return the touch of tongue and then some. He wants to give as good as he takes.
He knows that if this man asked to come upstairs, he would say yes. The thought isn't as terrible as he expected it to be.]
I BLAME THE VIRGIN QUEEN. THARD IS SUCH A STRUMPET IN IT.fraudMay 20 2011, 03:33:53 UTC
[ Eames laughs against Arthur's mouth; no sound, just hot breath pressed between both of their tongues as the tail end of one kiss becomes the opening of another. Experience has taught him that it's easy to lie when words are involved, because words themselves are imperfect and flawed. There are too many shades of interpretation, too often discrepancies between connotation and denotation -- loopholes for Eames to hide inside, to twist to his advantage when forming untruths. When you kiss someone or when you touch them, it's like shining a bright light onto a situation, making all of the shadows go short and sharp, leaving everything bare and exposed. That's what Arthur feels like when he finally kisses back -- raw like a patch of skin rubbed up against way too hard -- and, in that moment, Eames feels like he finally gets it.
(Welcome to the conversation, Arthur. Hope you enjoy your stay.It's late so that there's no real foot traffic to speak of, but still Eames is looking to push Arthur back, out of the main thoroughfare of the
( ... )
Have not seen it! ... Obviously I must rectify this immediately.is_on_pointMay 20 2011, 04:07:39 UTC
[There's not even a stumble as they move, nothing at all to flag hesitation or indecision. Arthur loses his breath montarily with the connection against brick and then finds it again with the sharp cut of teeth. He hisses for the second bite but there's something in the momentary pain, like a line drawn between the two of them, like the pain makes this real.
This is real. Reality's become a funny thing in the last few months for Arthur. He never really loses track of it but the thought's there. The red dice in his pocket.
He leans forward. Into it. He wants more and... it's a novel sensation for Arthur. There's always a plan or another thought or some delibration, cause and effect but right now--
Right now there's just this man with his name, the heat of his body and the demand of his mouth. And Arthur is okay with that.]
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[But he will remember. I'm beholden to me.
The difference in their heights is negligible. Arthur doesn't have to stand on his tiptoes or crane his neck-- just a tilt of his chin brings their mouths together. And it's true that for this moment he's not planning anything, he's just enjoying Arthur's hand on him and the soft give of his mouth. There's no reciprocated touch; no fingers on sleeve or in hair... but he steps closer, brings himself in until the space between them is indistinguishable.]
Reply
Then Eames' mouth is changing shape, the corners tightening, his lips growing less soft and more curved, complicating the simplicity of a single kiss. The hand on Arthur's neck tightens now, grows insistent that Arthur kiss him harder and so Eames pulls even though there's no gap to close between the both of them. He hums with low satisfaction in his throat, making his lips buzz slightly as he kisses Arthur again -- lips parting just far enough to tear down any illusion of chastity, the tip of Eames' tongue darting out to swipe across the seam of Arthur's mouth. ]
Reply
Arthur's lips part. They part and he lets himself forgot about politeness for just the moment, about decorum and propriety. He turns his head just enough so that they fit together better, so that he can return the touch of tongue and then some. He wants to give as good as he takes.
He knows that if this man asked to come upstairs, he would say yes. The thought isn't as terrible as he expected it to be.]
Reply
(Welcome to the conversation, Arthur. Hope you enjoy your stay.It's late so that there's no real foot traffic to speak of, but still Eames is looking to push Arthur back, out of the main thoroughfare of the ( ... )
Reply
This is real. Reality's become a funny thing in the last few months for Arthur. He never really loses track of it but the thought's there. The red dice in his pocket.
He leans forward. Into it. He wants more and... it's a novel sensation for Arthur. There's always a plan or another thought or some delibration, cause and effect but right now--
Right now there's just this man with his name, the heat of his body and the demand of his mouth. And Arthur is okay with that.]
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