Disclaimer: Not mine, Nolan's; the genius.
Author's Notes: Not what I was intending to write this morning, not proof-read, and written in thirty minutes mere moments before I intend to sleep so possibly not any good. Reviews make me insanely happy, even critical ones. If you read, please try to take a second to let me know what you thought!
"Oh come off it darling, you know a man's mind is not a paradise for women."
"A harem though?" Ariadne was horrified and walking away.
"That's the job sweetheart, and you didn't sign on thinking it was going to always be pretty."
"That's easy for you to say Eames, no one just tried to fuck you!" The forger smirked.
"Stop rubbing it in." Ariadne turned and glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I don't even get a warning now? I'm just thrown in there like a piece of meat for Wickham to just slobber all over?" Eames sighed at the younger girl's flair for dramatics.
"You're not a very good actress Ariadne," the architect was poised for a manual decapitation. "But you are an excellent distraction." The forger ran his eyes over Ariadne's petite frame languidly, as if to support his claim. An argument died in her throat.
"Oh," was all she could manage as her arms dropped to her sides. But Eames didn't drop his leer; he slowly advanced on the girl, literally cornering her in the stairwell of the five star hotel they were currently working in. The forger was never one to miss an opportunity and Ariadne had physically lowered her guard. In the future he would have to teach her how to keep her defenses around men like him. But Eames was a man of the present.
He was in her space. Ariadne, the architect, loved her space. Ariadne, the woman, liked him in it. Ariadne, the girl, was trying to remember how to breathe as Eames' hips lightly brushed hers; enough for her to feel exactly what his intentions with her space were. He put a hand on either side of her head and leaned down, smirking always. "Oh?" His tone was mocking, but the young girl was more focused on his lips. She nodded absent mindedly and slowly curled the fingers her left hand around his tie while the other knotted itself in the front of his jacket. "My dear, sweet Ariadne; you're going to have to do better than that."
Ariadne often secretly fawned over his accent but when she pulled him into the kiss it was in part to shut him the hell up. Eames was prepared for her reaction. He had constructed it; she would later realize and promptly chide herself for falling so easily into his trap. He had let her run the show for just a moment but their lips met Eames took control. He threaded a large, calloused hand through her curls and slid another around her back, instantly under her shirt and pushed her further into the corner.
Ariadne slid her hands up to his neck, gripping the collar of his shirt now, imaging ways to gain the upper hand on the forger but quickly losing the thoughts to images of Eames nude and panting on top of her. He was suffocating her and god damn it was practically instant. There was a logical part of her mind that knew she should pull away from him and go back into room 1064 and finished what she was being paid for. But there was no logic to what they were doing, and that was where Ariadne's calculations had gone wrong.
Neither of them heard the door open, nor the footsteps, nor the soft chuckle of their fearless leader; but they both heard his voice clear. A subtle cough from Cobb was all the kick they needed to bring them back to reality.
"Maybe it's a good thing I didn't send Arthur to find you two." Eames found this significantly funnier than Ariadne. The architect promptly stalked out of the stairwell, swollen lips and all. The forger shrugged. You win some, and you wait to win others on a different day.