[Prior to their current predicament, Arthur would have been on guard even when sleeping, would no doubt have reached for the untraceable gun tucked beneath the edge of the mattress and taken aim. But the longer they're together, the more he finds himself trusting her, not just in general but with his life, so when he feels the way his arms move without permission he barely stirs.
The trail of a finger does gain a response, though, and he grumbles quietly, still foggy and disorientated with sleep as he attempts to bat the intrusion away with a hand. It's then when his eyes fly open, aware that something's wrong, but as blurry eyes regain their focus and Eames comes into view, he stops struggling, relieved that there isn't a threat, still not coherent enough to realise what's happening.
He wets dry lips, blinks away the sleep from his eyes, and clears his throat, though he still sounds groggy and rough.] Eames, what're you doing? Is something wrong?
Surprise. [Her voice is honey smooth and light with just the barest hint of a promise tucked in underneath it. Her hand flattens against his chest, fingers curling into a slide over his skin like he's something soft and precious she needs to touch always.
She smiles slightly, because a half-asleep Arthur is almost something sweet, adorable even, especially when his barely awake voice makes everything inside her skin tighten in want.] With me yet, darling?
[Frowning, he tries again to move his hands, but when nothing happens he turns away, follows the length of his arms until he sees the fluffy pink handcuffs holding his wrists together around the bedhead. And then it hits him.]
Eames! [He looks annoyed now as it dawns on him why she's woken him, the plans she no doubt intends to carry out.] This isn't funny. Come on, let me go. [He throws a dirty look at the handcuffs, distaste written clearly across his face, and then gazes back up at her, a little panicked at the inability to free himself.] Eames, I mean it. Get these damn things off me.
Hey. [She frowns at the flash of panic in his eyes, leans in just that little bit closer to him to show she's not about to up and leave him stranded.] Oh hey darling, no.
I'm sorry, I'll - [Biting her lip, her hands drift to the cuffs but she doesn't unlock them straight away, looks down at him through the frame of her hair and sighs.] Love, if you want me to I'll let you go, but I'm not about to hurt you.
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The trail of a finger does gain a response, though, and he grumbles quietly, still foggy and disorientated with sleep as he attempts to bat the intrusion away with a hand. It's then when his eyes fly open, aware that something's wrong, but as blurry eyes regain their focus and Eames comes into view, he stops struggling, relieved that there isn't a threat, still not coherent enough to realise what's happening.
He wets dry lips, blinks away the sleep from his eyes, and clears his throat, though he still sounds groggy and rough.] Eames, what're you doing? Is something wrong?
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She smiles slightly, because a half-asleep Arthur is almost something sweet, adorable even, especially when his barely awake voice makes everything inside her skin tighten in want.] With me yet, darling?
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Eames! [He looks annoyed now as it dawns on him why she's woken him, the plans she no doubt intends to carry out.] This isn't funny. Come on, let me go. [He throws a dirty look at the handcuffs, distaste written clearly across his face, and then gazes back up at her, a little panicked at the inability to free himself.] Eames, I mean it. Get these damn things off me.
Reply
I'm sorry, I'll - [Biting her lip, her hands drift to the cuffs but she doesn't unlock them straight away, looks down at him through the frame of her hair and sighs.] Love, if you want me to I'll let you go, but I'm not about to hurt you.
Reply
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