"Tonight's the night. I'm definitely going to do it tonight."
Ariadne's proud declaration is met with a big grin from Eames, his eyes twinkling with absolute excitement. At the moment he very much resembles the cat that ate the canary which would normally worry her, but she's too buzzed to care.
After meeting with their new clients in Rome, they were returning to Paris on the overnight train. Not interested in making it a late night, Arthur left their company a while ago. Since then, she's been perfecting her plan with Eames.
Pouring the last bit of tequila into her shot glass, he slides it in her direction. "It's about time, sugar," he drawls. "You've been talking about it long enough."
"It's only been half an hour!" she says indignantly.
Eames leans his head back against the wall. "Yes, well, it's felt like a fucking eternity. Hearing you go on about how much you'd like to seduce boring Arthur isn't exactly my idea of a good time."
"He's not boring," she grumbles. "He's polite."
"Enough to insist a lady comes first? You'll have to let me know."
Ignoring his suggesting remark, she downs her drink. The bitter liquid washes down her throat causing her to scrunch up her face in distaste. Eames laughs at her.
"Arthur's nicer than you."
"That he is," Eames grins. "But I doubt it's his niceness that's getting you hot and bothered."
So maybe Arthur's more serious and subdued than the average guy but those are qualities she admires. Plus, when he does let his guard down, his mouth curves into a beautiful smile making the corners of his eyes crinkle, and the beautiful browns of his eyes change into an even warmer shade. It makes her feel special when he laughs at a joke they share, when he's carefree and relaxed and gives her an intimate smile in return – it's the kind of response that's earned over time and not freely given to just anyone.
"Better hurry up, love. Prince Charming may fall asleep if you don't get there in time."
She scoots out of the booth and stands up, gripping the edge of the seat to steady herself on her feet.
It's past eleven at night, the dining car is almost empty with only a handful of people still enjoying drinks. She contemplates having another shot of liquid courage before heading to Arthur's room but decides against it.
"Here, love." Reaching into his pocket, Eames pulls out a small wrapper and hands it to her.
"In case he doesn't have one," he says with a devilish smirk. "Use it wisely."
If she wasn't tipsy right now, she would be embarrassed out of her mind.
As she slips the condom into her blazer pocket, it occurs to her all her grand seduction plans will come to a screeching halt if Arthur doesn't co-operate with her. "You don't think he'll reject me, do you?"
"He would be an idiot to do that."
"What if I'm not his type?"
"Don't worry about that."
"But he didn't even notice that I wore this dress," she cries, pointing to the black, strapless number she's wearing under the blazer. Although her intention in purchasing the dress was to appear older to their clients, she also hoped Arthur would appreciate it. "And this bra is uncomfortable as hell but it makes my boobs look bigger and he didn't even glance at them!"
Eames chuckles. "Oh, he noticed those."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. You were too busy watching me to notice him ogling you."
Ariadne casts Eames a suspicious glare. "I don't remember doing that."
"Well, that's how it played out in my head."
"What if he turns me down?"
"Then I'll shoot him. And if you're still feeling randy, I'll fuck you next to his dead body."
She shakes her head 'no' vigorously. "I don't want to do that."
Eames feigns a delicate pout. "Careful, love. You don't want to hurt my feelings."
Ariadne responds with a solemn stare. "Don't worry, Eames. I can do this."
"I'm sure you can," he laughs.
"And it's going to be amazing."
"That lucky bastard has no idea what he's in for."
She bids Eames goodbye, and walks past the other passengers in the dining car to make her way towards the private cabin area.
Few minutes later she's standing in front of Arthur's cabin, staring at his door. She's simultaneously nervous and excited, feeling like she almost can't breathe because of what's going to transpire next between them.
After their initial job she hoped to get to know Arthur better, maybe even date him. Unfortunately, he seemed more interested in her professionally.
Well, not any more. Tonight, things were going to change.
Taking a deep breath, she knocks on his door.
She knocks again.
"Arthur, open up. It's Ariadne!"
Not even a peep.
Either he's dead or not in his room. Either way, her plans are fucked.
At first he thinks he's hearing things; soon, the voice calling his name is louder, making insistent demands on him to come out.
He glances at his watch. It's almost midnight. They're in close quarters, and he's pretty sure the other passengers will start complaining if Ariadne doesn't quieten down soon.
Sliding his door open, Arthur steps out of his cabin and stares at a perplexed Ariadne standing a few feet away. She's staring confusedly at the door in front of her, knocking vigorously on it.
She turns to look at him and the hapless expression on her face transforms into a beautiful smile. "Arthur!" she says excitedly. "What are you doing there? Why aren't you in your room?"
"That's your room," he points out. "This is mine."
He's not sure whether to laugh or be concerned. She's obviously drunk: a rare state for her.
She walks towards him, her hips swaying uncharacteristically, eyes flashing at him with such heated brilliance he can't remember the last time anyone's looked at him like that. Thanks to the bustier she decided to wear under that dress, his gaze is automatically drawn to her cleavage. At least now, from this vantage point, he's in a position to admire her breasts – something he wasn't able to do earlier tonight because he was seated next to her while Eames was across, smugly enjoying Arthur's bad luck.
Standing directly in front of him now, Ariadne gives him a come-hither look and a matching smile. "I hope you're alone," she purrs.
He stifles his laughter. "I don't think this cabin can fit more than one person."
"I'm sure we'll find a way to make it work."
Stunned when she fists his tie roughly, he allows himself to be lead back into his room. In one swift motion, he slides the door shut behind him.
If he thought the room was small before, it's positively claustrophobic now. She may not pose any physical threat to him, but Ariadne has a way of fucking with his head nonetheless. Around her he has to remind himself it's not normal to reach out and lace his fingers through her hair, that he must ignore this intense need to fuck her until they're both sated or she can no longer drive him crazy. Like she is right now, with the faint scent of her perfume and pouty lips deliberately taunting him.
He's fucked three women in the last six weeks that bore a striking resemblance to Ariadne. One he picked up at a bar, another one who caught his attention while he was shopping for groceries, and the third who showed up in his hotel room after he was forced to make a call due to pure frustration. They were all tiny, brunettes, and displayed a specific facet of Ariadne's personality which appealed to him.
None of them measured up to the real thing.
"Arthur," she whispers, sliding her unbuttoned blazer past her shoulders and dropping it to the floor.
She's glistening skin, soft breath, tousled hair and seductive frame in a barely-there dress. Everything about her - from the hands on her waist to the wild glint in her eyes - is designed to make him lose control.
"Do you know why I'm here?"
She's using her grown-up voice which is usually reserved for situations when she's trying to impress someone. This time it's him and it boggles his fucking mind. There's an expectant look on her face and he realizes she's waiting for a response. "To torture me?"
Soft laughter escapes her beautiful lips. "I have something else in mind."
"Did Eames put you up to this?"
"No. This is completely my idea."
"I'm not sure I believe that."
She shrugs her shoulders. "I'm not sure I care."
It's his turn to smile. "Why are you here, Ariadne?"
She takes a step towards him, reaching out to touch his chest. Delicate fingers linger on him, tracing an unknown pattern, as she stares up at him fresh-faced and doe-eyed.
"I'm here to seduce you."
Ariadne realizes Eames was right all along: she really didn't have to worry if Arthur was interested in her. The way his eyes are hungrily watching her right now, she's lucky he hasn't ripped her clothes off already.
His gaze intense, voice a hush whisper, he covers her hand with his own. "Seduce me?"
Her body instantly reacts to the expert caress of his thumb on her skin. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, the kind that makes her tingle from head to toe and sets her heart pounding.
"I'm flattered, Ariadne."
"You should be. I've put a lot of thought into this."
"I'm sure you have," he murmurs, his eyes stalking the movement of her lips.
"And Eames agreed it should be tonight."
"I'm so glad we have his approval," Arthur retorts. "Is this what you guys were plotting after I left?"
"At first. But then he grew tired of me talking about you."
"Do me a favour: don't stop talking about me."
"But I don't want to talk anymore."
He cocks his eyebrow. "What do you want to do?"
"Was I being too subtle?"
"Maybe I just want to hear you say it again."
Standing on her tip-toes, she links her fingers together behind his neck. "Fuck me, Arthur," she murmurs.
One minute she's teasing him, the next his hands are wrapped around her waist, crushing her against his chest as his mouth roughly closes over hers. There is no trace of the sweet, gentle Arthur she's grown attached to. In his place is someone who's possessed and desperate for her.
He may be controlling the kiss but she's the one who messily loosens his tie, and rips the buttons of his shirt when they prove too hard to undo, and finally push him away because his rough caress makes it impossible for her to undress him further.
He's panting for air, and her body's trembling.
"Sorry," he groans, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I shouldn't have done that."
"You should have done it sooner."
The smile on her face transitions to full laughter when she takes in the confused expression on his face. He appears dumbfounded, as if he expected her to react badly to that kiss.
She shifts closer to bed, takes a seat and pats the empty space next to her. "Come here."
He does what he's told, and she grants him an appreciative smile in return.
Arthur thinks he's dreaming, he has to be. Because it's impossible that Ariadne is kneeling in front of him right now, a coy smile shaping her face as she unbuckles the belt, unzips his trousers and pulls his cock out.
He doesn't ever want to wake up from this dream.
He's already hard, no surprise there, and the mesmerized spark in her eyes studying him makes him even more aroused.
"You're beautiful," she whispers.
"I think that's my line."
"You'll just have to come up with something else." Her fingers wrap around him, warm and assured, while she continues to converse with him as if it's the most natural thing to do in the midst of a hand-job. "Did I ever tell you about my friend's stagette?"
His head lolls back, his breath coming out in short spurts, and she keeps stroking him to a rhythm that's driving him insane. She plays with his balls, massaging them, teasing him just enough to the point where the pain combines with pleasure and he's lost in a fucking haze.
"She hired this guy to teach us how to give the perfect blow job."
His eyes fly open, he's struggling to breathe.
"I've wanted to do this for so long, but you were too busy playing hard to get."
There's a hard glint in her eyes, she's determined to make him pay for the long wait.
Her tongue strokes just the tip of his cock at first, hot breath taunting him as her fingers fondle his balls.
And then she takes a little bit of him into her mouth, her brown eyes lock with his, and she starts sucking him off.
Ariadne's the first hit of Ecstasy he did as a teenager when his whole world exploded within seconds and he was simultaneously dying and feeling more alive than he ever had before.
She's that rush of adrenaline that surged through him when he walked past Fischer for the last time and knew the job was a success.
And he knows he can't ever give her up.
His mouth peppers soft kisses along her clavicle.
His tongue swipes across her nipple, and her back arches, and she bites down on her lips to stop from screaming.
He whispers he wants to fuck her, but he doesn't just stop there. He says a lot of things she never expected to hear from the nice and polite Arthur.
Her toes curl...
Her heart flutters...
Her eyes grow heavy...
Arthur's tongue dips into her navel but she doesn't moan this time. Her fingers don't pull on his hair, and she doesn't tremble under him.
He looks up.
She's fast asleep.
And, despite his uncomfortable state of arousal, he can't help but laugh.