I am so sorry. actually, I'm not.triedinceptionJune 27 2011, 02:54:52 UTC
[ Sitting, legs crossed, running a finger around the rim of a drink. ]
What wouldn't I do to you, darling? I want to throw you down on beds and peel you out of your ridiculously bloody hot suits, and suck you off until you're begging me to stop, I want to finger you open and make you ride me, I want to come in you until you're filthy with it. And then I want to clean you up and take you out on rooftops with wine and good bread and stay up all night with you.
"Did it work?" Eames shoots back, amused. His fingers play with the rim of his cup, bored energy. There had always been a spark between them, something dangerous, something that he wanted to fan and see where it would go - or if it would fizzle out.
Sobering slightly, "Then some part of it is, but at least we tried. Honestly, Arthur, are you so scared of dissapointing me or yourself?"
"No, it didn't! What the hell did you even hope to accomplish saying such --" But then stopped and scrubbed a hand down his face, annoyed and hating that the other man seemed to do it to him so easily. He always had been able to do that. Get to Arthur; like an itch on the underside of the skin - utterly infuriating and intolerable that it can't be scratched away, but undeniably there.
Glaring at the other man, voice hard, "I am not scared of anything. Least of all disappointing you." Adding after taking a few angry swallows of his drink (if the force with which they went down were any way to indicate a mood or temperament), "Which it seems I've already done by your standards anyway." Yes, he was referring to Eames' frequent comments about how Arthur lacked imagination, how he bored Eames to tears (frequently), was anal retentive and a snob, among other things that Arthur couldn't help remembering (even as he often let such insults and teasing roll off his back - wasn't like he hadn't experienced them before).
Eames had laughed, then, a rough sound aggravated by whiskey and he finally signaled the waitress for another before he refocused his attention on Arthur. Eames loved that he could get under Arthur's skin so; craved the attention, because he would take anything he could get from Arthur now.
Spreading his hands wide, "Then why the resistance, darling? Either we have a lovely night together, or you walk away knowing I didn't meet your expectations and free of your itch." Leaning forward on his elbows now, adding, "Work and play are never the same."
Arthur had tried, time and again, to ignore the other man. Sometimes he had very nearly succeeded in doing it for the whole day. But most of the time Eames would do or say something so infuriating that the point man just had to react in some way. Usually be verbally berating the forger (who would have the nerve to look so disgustingly smug or satisfied).
Like he was now.
Coldly, "Maybe I don't want a night with you because I don't like you." Adding while taking another sip of his drink, "I know they are not the same; if they were they would called the same thing."
"If you didn't like me you would have thrown that drink in my face when I said I wanted to come in your pretty little bum and then left. Not that you won't just to spite me," Eames replied, plucking his whiskey when it came and taking a sip. Shaking his head after, he continued. "They can be, but you love your lines."
Breezily as he picked up his drink to take another swallow, "I wouldn't waste good vodka like that."
Adding after a beat and swallow of his drink, tone a bit flatter, "I'd empty the glass and then smash it against your skull." He had done it to someone before; given the right mood, he couldn't honestly say he wouldn't do it again. Eventually.
"Lines exist for a reason, Eames. If you keep blurring them you'll lose all definition." Whether Arthur was speaking about words, emotional lines that divided them, or even architectural designs, was anyone's guess. The point man, usually one for specificity in all things, didn't bother to elaborate further than that.
Taking another sip of his whiskey before he set it down, leaning his elbow on the table and his cheek against his hand, "Rawr. I never knew you loved your alcohol so much and my face so little."
And then, a smirk curling on his face, "I'm a forger, darling. My job is to lose my definition, so that I can take up others. Aside from that, you know I love blurring the lines. But really, Arthur, why so resistant? It's not like we're children who don't know what we're getting into. And I'm not asking you to do it more than once if you don't like it."
Softer, "And I'm not asking you to leave if you do like it."
Arthur squinted at that noise the other made, stating flatly, "There's a lot you don't know about me." And while it usually didn't bother him when people acted like they thought they knew him, Eames acting like he did just irritated him beyond reason.
And that was wherein most of Arthur's reservations with the other man resided; the fact the other man was known for being everything he wasn't. Arthur... he needed definition, he needed to know where lines were and where he stood with people. Things that went completely undefined or were constantly blurred... he had enough of those in his past, he didn't need them here and now in his present.
But he didn't say any of that, even if he didn't make the effort to hide it in his expression. Instead he said, "Why are you so insistent?" And said in a way that meant 'and don't give me the obvious reasons, jerkwad'.Taking another sip of his drink, ever the contrary creature, "And who's to say I even would like it? You could be terrible in bed and just all talk and attitude." Not to say Arthur
( ... )
"Because I want to know," Eames answered immediately. Licking his lips slightly, "Because you fascinate me, all wrapped up the way you are. I want to get to know you at your most intimate. And what you're like afterwards, and in the morning when I make you breakfast. How you are without a job to define you."
Arthur could feel himself flush at that admittance, even while something in his chest swelled. Then, oddly soft for Arthur, "I don't understand... how you could want that. How you could be like that."
There were times even Arthur wasn't sure what he was without a job to define him. So, admitting that was startlingly revealing. Even vulnerable.
And of course the point man hated it the moment it left his mouth and it sounded so foreign even to his own ears.
"Don't understand because you don't think I could be like that?" His tone came out quickly, a bit biting. Eames was oddly sensitive when he opened himself up to lovers, but more than once he'd had them puzzled by his sincere nature.
Then, with a heavier sigh, "I want it because I want it. I'm this way because it's who I am. I put on so many masks, but I know what I really want. As I've told you. It's all selfish reasons," he added somewhat defensively as he took another drink.
It wasn't really selfish, though. Eames said it was, but it was clear that if it was for selfish reasons he would have given up long ago.
Arthur's brow had creased at the tone but didn't reply at first. When he did, it was a slightly softer tone than he had been using, "I don't understand because I don't think anyone would be interested in me on more than one level."
He was used to the sexual advances of people and it was what he had come to expect from most; it wasn't as if he had a "glowing" personality to match his looks (or whatever part of him people seemed to be attracted to).
But the forger's sincerity - because that is what it appeared to be - was a bit startling for the point man. he had not expected it. Not after all the flirting and snarking and innuendo. It was very easy to assume that sex was all the other was after. The fact that Arthur felt he knew so little of the other man also played into that view
( ... )
Listening to Arthur say that, in such a soft tone, makes Eames pause, staring at him as he knocks back the rest of his drink. And then Eames speaks, quietly.
"Darling, how could anyone not be? Who wouldn't want to discover the man behind that inscrutable mask, the one that makes those sarcastic quips and threatens to shoot people when they don't move fast enough?"
Because that was a good chunk of it. The sexual attraction was there, of course, but for Eames, sex was just a part of attraction and dating, of learning about someone. You would learn what parts of their body made them writhe and moan just as you would learn their favorite book or food, or the sound of their laughter.
What wouldn't I do to you, darling? I want to throw you down on beds and peel you out of your ridiculously bloody hot suits, and suck you off until you're begging me to stop, I want to finger you open and make you ride me, I want to come in you until you're filthy with it. And then I want to clean you up and take you out on rooftops with wine and good bread and stay up all night with you.
In short, yes, I would bloody tap that.
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Sobering slightly, "Then some part of it is, but at least we tried. Honestly, Arthur, are you so scared of dissapointing me or yourself?"
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Glaring at the other man, voice hard, "I am not scared of anything. Least of all disappointing you." Adding after taking a few angry swallows of his drink (if the force with which they went down were any way to indicate a mood or temperament), "Which it seems I've already done by your standards anyway." Yes, he was referring to Eames' frequent comments about how Arthur lacked imagination, how he bored Eames to tears (frequently), was anal retentive and a snob, among other things that Arthur couldn't help remembering (even as he often let such insults and teasing roll off his back - wasn't like he hadn't experienced them before).
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Spreading his hands wide, "Then why the resistance, darling? Either we have a lovely night together, or you walk away knowing I didn't meet your expectations and free of your itch." Leaning forward on his elbows now, adding, "Work and play are never the same."
Reply
Like he was now.
Coldly, "Maybe I don't want a night with you because I don't like you." Adding while taking another sip of his drink, "I know they are not the same; if they were they would called the same thing."
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Adding after a beat and swallow of his drink, tone a bit flatter, "I'd empty the glass and then smash it against your skull." He had done it to someone before; given the right mood, he couldn't honestly say he wouldn't do it again. Eventually.
"Lines exist for a reason, Eames. If you keep blurring them you'll lose all definition." Whether Arthur was speaking about words, emotional lines that divided them, or even architectural designs, was anyone's guess. The point man, usually one for specificity in all things, didn't bother to elaborate further than that.
Reply
And then, a smirk curling on his face, "I'm a forger, darling. My job is to lose my definition, so that I can take up others. Aside from that, you know I love blurring the lines. But really, Arthur, why so resistant? It's not like we're children who don't know what we're getting into. And I'm not asking you to do it more than once if you don't like it."
Softer, "And I'm not asking you to leave if you do like it."
Reply
And that was wherein most of Arthur's reservations with the other man resided; the fact the other man was known for being everything he wasn't. Arthur... he needed definition, he needed to know where lines were and where he stood with people. Things that went completely undefined or were constantly blurred... he had enough of those in his past, he didn't need them here and now in his present.
But he didn't say any of that, even if he didn't make the effort to hide it in his expression. Instead he said, "Why are you so insistent?" And said in a way that meant 'and don't give me the obvious reasons, jerkwad'.Taking another sip of his drink, ever the contrary creature, "And who's to say I even would like it? You could be terrible in bed and just all talk and attitude." Not to say Arthur ( ... )
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It was oddly open, Eames admitting that.
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There were times even Arthur wasn't sure what he was without a job to define him. So, admitting that was startlingly revealing. Even vulnerable.
And of course the point man hated it the moment it left his mouth and it sounded so foreign even to his own ears.
Reply
Then, with a heavier sigh, "I want it because I want it. I'm this way because it's who I am. I put on so many masks, but I know what I really want. As I've told you. It's all selfish reasons," he added somewhat defensively as he took another drink.
It wasn't really selfish, though. Eames said it was, but it was clear that if it was for selfish reasons he would have given up long ago.
Reply
He was used to the sexual advances of people and it was what he had come to expect from most; it wasn't as if he had a "glowing" personality to match his looks (or whatever part of him people seemed to be attracted to).
But the forger's sincerity - because that is what it appeared to be - was a bit startling for the point man. he had not expected it. Not after all the flirting and snarking and innuendo. It was very easy to assume that sex was all the other was after. The fact that Arthur felt he knew so little of the other man also played into that view ( ... )
Reply
"Darling, how could anyone not be? Who wouldn't want to discover the man behind that inscrutable mask, the one that makes those sarcastic quips and threatens to shoot people when they don't move fast enough?"
Because that was a good chunk of it. The sexual attraction was there, of course, but for Eames, sex was just a part of attraction and dating, of learning about someone. You would learn what parts of their body made them writhe and moan just as you would learn their favorite book or food, or the sound of their laughter.
Reply
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