He kisses her, her back meeting the wall with a small thud as their tongues moved together, in a perfect ballet. His tongue dominating hers while she lets him, giving herself completely to his mercy. His eyes, he hates to admit, have fallen closed in his ecstacy, reveling in the power she gives him. His breath coming in hot pants, his blood boiling with excitement over her willingness to be his completely and his alone; this goddess, this mistress of the maze.

His fingers are tangled in her soft hair, and each strand feels like liquid. He doesn't know how she keeps it so soft, but its one of the things he's growing to love about her. He knows...knows...that she spends little time on her appearance. That to her, comfort outweighs style, but its one of the things he admires of her. That he's always admired of her.

Its another night. A Tuesday to be precise. And they're getting ready to initiate their plan. In less than four hours, they'll be infiltrating one of the most secure buildings on the earth to extract a deadly piece of information. He knows this isn't the time for him to be partaking in these activities. Knows that she should be sleeping, getting prepared and that he should be running diagnostics on the PASIV, but he pushes it away like a dirty thought. Right now, she's his. And he has a hunch that she knows he's hers as well.

He groans as she runs one of her hands through his gelled hair–the only one who he will willingly allow to touch his hair, though he would never, ever admit it. And groans again when she feels her fingers playing at the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one in a painfully slow fashion. They've been doing this for a while now. Ever since the end of the Fischer job when he took her to his apartment for a, more private celebration. It had been pure carnality then. They were coming down from the high of succeeding in one of the most difficult types of shared dreaming experiences in the world. They were...comforting each other with their bodies. Not being particularly gentle about it either. He had slammed into her awaiting sex, pummeling her not so delicate body into his king sized bed while she moaned and whimpered beneath him. Begging him to fuck her harder, to move faster inside of her.

Her shirt was off now, along with her bra and he was thumbing one of her nipples, teasing it as the nub began to harden. His other hand was down on her hip, his fingers running along the bone and feeling the softness of her ass, while he sucked and kissed down her neck. She had finally undone the buttons on his shirt, and her hand was underneath his undershirt, her fingertips tracing patterns up his toned chest. He growled, and kissed his way down, before taking one of her hardened buds into his mouth, suckling like a newborn baby.

After they had started this...fucking...he had begun to notice things about her he never would have ever noticed before. How the sunlight that filtered down from the windows above made her look angelic as she leaned over her models, her hair hanging down and tucked behind her ears. How she was more graceful than he had at first guessed when she had started when she made her way across a room. And the way that other men stared at her when she passed. He was right when he called her beautiful, although he had needed to roll the word around on his tongue a few times before he could actually utter it to himself aloud, under his breath in a quiet, empty room. Her laugh made him smile now. A large, stupid, punch-drunk smile that he didn't fully understand. And he noticed he was beginning to do things to impress her, or make her laugh. Like purposely keeping the bantering between himself and Eames going if she was enjoying it. Or trying to learn French. Because her french was spectacular, and nobody he knew could compete with it. A few weeks ago, he would have laughed at what he was doing now, calling himself stupid and confused. But not now.

Her hand was down his pants, wrapped around his hardening cock and he moaned, thrusting his hips to give her the full understanding of how she was making him feel. About what he wanted to do to her. And meanwhile, his own hand had snaked down into her panties–her pants long ago thrown to another part of the room–and he was slowly circling her clit, two of his large fingers thrusting up inside of her, preparing her, making her moan his name into his ear. Driving him insane.

She whimpered. And he knew she was ready. There were no words spoken between them. There hadn't been since they had begun. He had grown to have an understanding of her, and she had grown to understand him. Pushing down his boxers, and throwing off his undershirt and button down, he lifted her, her legs wrapping around him as she clung to him.

He stared into her eyes, shining in the little light of the hallway, and he got caught up in them, watching them sparkle in the half-darkness, examining the lust that filled them to overflowing. And then with a fluid motion he impaled her, pushing her body down onto his cock until he had been fully encased in her sweet sex, before pushing almost all the way out and shoving back in just as quickly. She moaned, throwing her head back, her sweet breasts rolling gently with each slow thrust of his hips.

He was going to enjoy her tonight. He didn't want this moment to end. And they had nowhere they had to be for a little while longer. She was moaning slightly louder now, his fingers pressing into her hot skin as he began to thrust a little faster, his eyes falling half closed in the pleasure enveloping his body, he head leaning against the wall, next to hers, breathing on her soft, exposed neck as he pumped into her.

His balls were slapping into her now, as he picked up the pace, moving harder and faster with each tug of his hair. She was lost in her own pleasure, which gave him immediate satisfaction and pride, and he couldn't help the smile that escaped his lips as he watched her come undone in front of him. Her pussy pulsing around his cock as he drove it into her a few more times before cumming himself, erupting inside of her.

Their movements slowed as they came down from their high, and as their eyes met, something jolted in him. He wanted this. He wanted her. And he didn't just want to keep clandestinely meeting to make love. He wanted the security of knowing he could come home to her every night. That he could make love to her alone as many times as he wanted however frequently. There was only one thing to do.

"Ariadne." he breathed, his cool breath striking her neck as he kissed it. Once. Twice.

"Hm?" she whispered, her voice equally as weak after their session.

"Well...I was wondering if perhaps you would like to accompany me to dinner when this job is all over."

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked down at him, her naked body still pressed to his. "Arthur...are you asking me on a date? But...why..." her voice trailed off, her unspoken fears understood by him in seconds, just as she knew they would be.

"Because." he smiled. "It's worth a shot."

Don't you think they make the hottest couple ever? I wrote this smut because I love the idea of this couple having some sort of illicit, secretive relationship. And because I've never written anything before for Fanfiction and I always enjoy a challenge. Anyway, my name's Katie, and this is my first story! I hope you guys check out my profile. I'll eventually get around to put things up. I'm just super busy right now because College just started.

One of my friends is on here. Troypayisbetter. If you don't know them they're about the nicest, most hyperactive, sweetest, twins on the planet. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review! Hopefully I'll be able to write more soon! Till then! Happy Labor Day! And give me a PM if you so desire. I love making friends, and would love some close ones on this site. :D