Once again, all mistakes are mine and mine alone because I'm lazy and hate proofing my own work.


The car ride back to Therese's apartment was painfully tense, Eames wanting nothing more than to have her right there. Restraint, always a difficult task in her presence, didn't come easily even when she seemed not to realize just what she'd awakened. The only outward indications that something was amiss were his relative silence and how he didn't touch her, not even lightly grasping her hand as he usually did.

"Okay," she began as they stepped into her apartment, setting her cello against the wall while he closed the door, "you've been awfully quiet since we left, so what giv-" The sudden, hungry kiss silenced any words and thoughts she might have had. Eames devoured her breath as it rushed out of her lungs when her back hit the wall. Good God, he'd wanted to do this for so long! He tried to slow down for her sake, but his lips had other ideas. The moan she made when he parted her lips and swept his tongue through her mouth seemed to taunt him, urging him to go further. He happily obliged. He covered her smaller frame with his, making sure not one inch of their bodies remained untouched. Only when her hands came up to cup his jaw did he finally slow his assault. She pushed him back just long enough to register the naked lust in his eyes. "Finally," she whispered, the one word a declaration, a battle cry, a plea.

Eames tried to think just what she meant by that, but thinking became bloody difficult with her lips tugging at his, her fingers buried in his hair, and her knee on his hip. Right now he had more important matters to concentrate on…like how her hands were now shoving his jacket off his shoulders. Next came his tie, which she nearly ripped off his neck, then his shirt. The sound of the buttons scattering across the room proved he wasn't the only impatient one. He gave her lips one more lick before pulling back to catch his breath. His hands went to the wall on either side of her head to keep from losing what little self control he still had left. Therese seemed to have no such reservations, though.

Her fingers and lips flew over him, touching anything and everything they could reach. One hand slid down his chest, achingly close to where he wanted her touch the most, while the other titled his head back to give her better access to his throat. She attacked the sensitive skin with a flurry of kisses, licks, and sharp bites that drew gasps and groans from him. Innocent Southern belle, my ass. He'd always known she was a passionate, outgoing woman, but this was a whole new side to her, wild and primal. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't damn hot.

A particularly vicious nip at his pulse point startled him back to reality. Her name slipped from his mouth, begging her to do something. Stop, go on, he wasn't quite sure at this point. "Ian," she breathed back. "Touch me. Touch me everywhere."

"Jesus," he mumbled against her lips before capturing them once again. He swore that taste of her was more addictive than opium, heroin, and whatever the hell Yusuf could concoct put together. Another call to God followed a bite to his lower lip. His arms pulled her tightly against him as he buried his face into her neck, inhaling her scent like a drug.

"Uh-uh," she whispered. "You finish what you started, hon." A strangled cry tore from his throat when she moved the knee that had been on his hip to press firmly against the growing bulge between his thighs. "I trust you know how to use this better with a woman instead of your hand." Was she actually making a masturbation joke right now? How could she even form a coherent sentence when he was struggling just to remember how to breathe? A throaty laugh from her at his reaction sent a jolt of lightning sizzling down to his erection. "Ian, if you don't take this dress off of me right now, I swear to God I won't let you get off until you beg me."

Since you asked so nicely…She gasped when she found herself suddenly facing the wall, her breasts pressing against the plaster while Eames' pulsing heat kept her in place. His hands shook only a little when he found the zipper and slowly, achingly drew it down. His eyes danced over every bit of flesh that became bared. The shudder that racked her body at the touch of his lips to her spine, the scratch of his stubble on her skin as he followed the zipper down gave his ego a very pleasant boost. Sliding his hands under the fabric and around her waist to pull her away from wall, he watched as the dress flowed down her body to pool on the floor. As much as nothing surprised him anymore, he couldn't help the sharp breath he drew in when he saw that she'd worn not a stitch of underclothes. She now stood in his arms in nothing but her stilettos and new necklace. Christ, she'd planned to seduce him from the beginning! And doing a bloody good job of it.

He allowed her to turn to face him, giving him a spectacular view of the body he'd felt pressed against him so many times before. Her hands went to his shoulders to push his shirt off completely, then to the back of his neck to draw him down for a searing kiss. "Should I leave the shoes on?" she whispered into his ear, her breath hot and teasing against his skin. When he didn't answer for a long moment she drew back, a worried look on her face. "Ian?"

"I'm thinking." They shared a laugh at their ridiculousness before he leaned in to caress her earlobe with his lips. "Off." He paused and touched the orb hanging from her neck, watching as it seemed to glow from within. "Leave this on."

Therese shot him a bright smile that quickly turned into a sultry grin. "Take them off me."

Her hands remained on his head as he knelt before her. He kissed his way down her legs, raising one foot to unbuckle the thin strap, then the other. Maybe later he'd have her put them back on. "Has anyone ever told you you've got great legs?" he said between kisses on her thigh.

"Not that I've ever paid attention to," she replied with a smile as he stood to tower over her once more.

His hand slid down her back to the curve of her backside, pressing her hips firmly against his. He let out a shaky breath at the sound she made in response. "Are you paying attention now" His lips ghosted over her temple, his free hand mimicking her earlier movement and tilting her head back for a kiss to her throat.

"God, yes." That was all he needed to hear.

Lifting her into his arms, he started towards her bedroom, trying not to think about how her legs wrapped around his waist or the feel of her thighs in his hands. She worried his earlobe with lips, teeth, and tongue in what seemed to be a deliberate distraction. Minx. He tried to be gentle when he laid her on the bed, he really did. But Therese didn't appear to care in the least when he fell atop her, crushing her into the mattress. She pulled him back down when he tried to raise himself up, her fingers tracing the contours of his biceps while her tongue traced his lips. "Now this isn't exactly fair," she pouted, one hand tugging at the waist of his pants. "You're overdressed."

If she had been any other woman, one whose name he didn't even bother to learn, Eames would have made some snarky comment about not wanting to scare her with his size or proclaiming that he didn't need to be naked to make her see stars. But she wasn't just some anonymous body with only one use to him. Therese was so much more. And hearing her talk now, so vastly different from her usual, mostly clean speech, he could barely process two things at once. Her words weren't dirty, not by a long shot, but her tone itself was drenched with sex. It was fucking hot. He mindlessly obeyed her unspoken demand, rising up on his knees to undo his belt and pull the zip down. Therese surprised him again by sitting up and slipping her hands below the waistband at his hips. Her warm palms sliding over skin she'd never touched before brought a groan of appreciation from his lips. She hadn't even gotten to the best part of him yet.

She laid back down, pulling him with her and dusting hot kisses along his jaw. He felt her legs move further up his sides, allowing him to sink deeper against her, then her feet pressing against his thighs. She pushed his pants down his legs and onto the floor, surprising him with her creativity. "Clever girl," he breathed.

She chuckled, looking him straight in the eye. "Believe it or not, I have done this before."

Something about that admission/fact made his blood heat. "What's his name and Social Security Number?" he growled.

"Oooo, aren't we possessive," she laughed. "I kinda like it."

Eames couldn't take any more. "Keep talking like that and this'll be over before it starts, love."

He watched with rapt fascination as her pupils dilated until the warm reddish-brown irises nearly disappeared. She knew he was serious on both counts. "Well, we don't want that, do we."

Words were replaced with breathy sighs and soft moans of pleasure. Teeth scraped against skin. Fingertips pressed into sweat-slicked flesh while nails raked down a muscled, tattooed back. Quiet screams disappeared into kisses as hips found their rhythm and a hand found its way into long ebony hair. Therese's sultry feminine cries grew in volume, seeming to originate from deep within her gut, as she approached the end of her strength.

Eames finally rediscovered his voice at the sounds she made. "Tell me what you want, darling," he whispered hoarsely into her ear, earning him another moan. "Tell me."

"Harder," came her harsh reply.

He happily obliged. "What else?" A string of sounds escaped her lips, but the only word he could make out was 'bite'. "Bite what?"

She abruptly pulled his head back and met his stare with unabashed lust. He shivered at the look. "Bite my neck…when you come. Hard."

Eames decided he most definitely liked this side of her. He idly wondered how she'd concealed it so well for so long. He'd ask later after they both lay exhausted and gasping for breath. He covered her lips with his, devouring her cries with each thrust of his hips. Her tongue sought his in his mouth, curling around it and swiping at the sensitive roof. A familiar tingle formed at the base of his spine and soon spread throughout his abdomen and down his legs. He began to lose his rhythm, his hips snapping wildly as his orgasm approached. "Don't stop," Therese urged, one hand sliding down to his ass. "Don't stop…don't stop…" Her encouragement turned into a near-shriek when her release hit. Her back arched (most assuredly) painfully high, her nails digging into his skin with a vigor he didn't expect. Christ, she was beautiful. He followed her into the abyss mere seconds later, but not before finding enough strength to sink his teeth into her perfectly exposed throat just as she's demanded of him. Through the haze of his own orgasm he could have sworn she'd tightened around him even more at the bite. Not that he was complaining, however.

The wave finally passed, leaving him shaking with the effort to remain above her. He released his hold on her neck and gave the reddened, indented area a soothing sweep of his tongue. She sighed at the contact, her arms wrapping languidly around his back. Her ragged breath mingled with his as he separated himself from her tantalizing heat; she whimpered in protest, the only sound she could manage. He fell to one side and rolled her with him, her body limp and pliable as a rag doll. They lay in satisfied silence, broken only by their harsh breath.

Eames regained his first. "Not that I want to ruin the mood, but I've got a question for you." He paused thoughtfully, one hand leisurely stroking her arm. "Well, two…three questions."

A hollow chuckle wafted across his chest. "Ask away, Mr. Eames."

He suppressed a shudder at the use of his last name. "How long have you been planning this?"

"Planning what?"

He didn't buy her faked innocence, nor was he meant to judging by the smirk on her lips. "This. You wrote a bloody song for me and I know that didn't just happen today." When she didn't answer straight away he leaned in to nuzzle the darkening bite mark on her neck. "Come on, love. I'm curious."

"You know what they say about curiosity." She gasped at the sharp nip he gave her earlobe at her evasion. Her gaze remained on the Union Jack emblazoned above his heart, her fingertips tracing its shape. "If you must know, it's JoJo's fault." He recalled her friend Joanna, lovingly dubbed JoJo. She was the first one to notice his attraction to the cellist and had made it perfectly clear that a "never-ending abyss of pain" would be his fate if he ever made her cry. Charming woman, JoJo. "The last time you were here, when we danced…she let it slip that you…well, that you liked me. God, that sounds so middle school!" She hid her face behind one hand as her shyness returned with a vengeance. Adorable. "Anyway, she told me, then we danced, and…I guess I just paid more attention that night."

He remembered that particular evening quite well. How could he not? They (he, Therese, and JoJo) had gone to a bar to celebrate JoJo moving up to first violin in their orchestra, just before Therese had gone solo. They'd left the formal party early, JoJo and Eames bored with the stuffy atmosphere in the banquet hall. They'd found a decent looking bar with a beautiful selection of liquor and had their own celebration. Therese had made a beeline for one of the pool tables to join another patron in a game. While JoJo had made up dirty limericks with a table of soldiers, Eames had watched Therese. She wasn't a bad player, but she wasn't good either. She seemed to understand the basics of the game, but her execution was flawed. After another missed shot he'd stood from his seat and called out to her above the metal song blaring from the speakers. "Fancy a pointer or two, darling?" He'd ignored the way her opponent looked him over with an unmistakable leer. His attention remained fixed on Therese as she'd smiled in appreciation. He'd stepped behind her to put her in the proper position. "Put your fingers like this" - his fingers moved hers around the cue, his other hand closing around hers at the back end – "and your elbow bent." He'd tried to ignore the feel of her skin against his hands, along with the scent of her hair, which had been pulled up from her neck. "Keep your back straight, too." He'd known perfectly well how scandalous their position looked, but he was too busy fantasizing about other locations and scenarios where he could have her bent over to give a damn. And she hadn't seemed to notice either way, too focused on lining up her shot. But her tipsy opponent had noticed. He'd reluctantly stepped back, giving a broad smile when she sank the shot with ease.

He'd walked away then, called away by an adamant JoJo, but not before he'd overheard the other woman say, "Don't take this wrong, but your boyfriend's fuckin' hot as hell." He'd allowed himself a cocky grin before tuning out what was sure to be a steadfast denial of anything between them.

JoJo's smile resembled a crocodile's as he'd approached, immediately putting him on edge. "I'm just gonna come right out and say it," she'd began, her body language telling him she was ready for a fight. "I know what you're thinking about Therese and let me make this perfectly clear…" She'd leaned in to him and whispered her next words across his ear. "If you ever hurt her, break her heart, or make her cry, there'll be no escaping the never-ending abyss of pain I'll send you to." She'd pulled back, her honey-colored eyes boring into his, daring him to contradict her. "I know you like her, and I'd like to think you're good man at heart, so you've got my permission to go after her. But if you turn out to be just another asshole looking to tap a prime example of female ass and walk, I will find you…and I will kill you. 'Kay?"

There had been so many nuances in her short speech to process. JoJo had always been protective of her friend, without question. But this nearly crossed the line into possessiveness. And while she'd always talked to him with a slightly acidic edge, he knew she liked him well enough. If she didn't she'd have made sure he knew it. He could have responded with a snarky denial of his attraction to Therese or a heartfelt declaration of his honorable intentions. But then he wouldn't have been Eames. "Did you watch Taken again, Joanna?"

She'd stared at him for a moment just as an upbeat 80s song started playing. She'd looked away first, her lips trying not to turn up into a smile. "Never you mind that. Now, are you gonna ask her to dance or do I have to throw you over there?"

That was when he'd come to understand the violinist. When it came to her own wants and needs, she was almost brutally blunt, not caring if anyone else overheard or judged her. But she cared more about the feelings of those close to her and did her best to help them without coming across too "sappy" as she would put it. God forbid anyone knew she could be as tender and affectionate about her friends as she could be venomous with her enemies. Eames couldn't blame her, however; he understood that mentality all too well. He'd left her with an assuring smile (genuine for once) and extended his hand to Therese. She'd tried to convince him she couldn't dance, and when that didn't work she'd tried running away to JoJo for protection. That hadn't worked either. She'd eventually relented, letting him lead her in simple steps and keeping her eyes on their feet. She'd finally built up her confidence enough to meet his eyes when she laughed, just as a slower, more visceral song the replaced the 80s pop. Someone up there either likes me or is about to play a dirty joke. He hadn't missed the slight apprehension in her eyes as she registered the music change, but she didn't pull away. He'd taken a chance and twirled her around, her back to his chest. His hands had behaved (mostly), but he hadn't been able to stop them from gripping her hips or shoulder instinctively whenever she swayed her backside against him.

He'd left the next morning for the ill-fated job in Budapest, mostly to clear his head and keep himself from diving headfirst into a mistake. "I remember that night," he whispered to her now. "Lovely of Joanna to give her blessing, yeah."

Therese looked up, her brows nearly meeting. "What do you mean?"

"She told me, in so many words, to make my move or fuck off. It's why I left so soon last time."

"Why?" Her hand went to the side of his head as if to draw out an explanation with her touch.

It worked. "Ah, let's just say I'm not good with expressing my feelings." He took her hand and pressed a kiss against her fingertips.

"Of course not. You're a man." He returned her smile when he realized she hadn't taken his sudden departure all those months ago to heart. "What's your next question?"

Now it was Eames' turn to look away. He thought about the right way to phrase it without coming off as a total twat or risk his mask slipping even further. He already exposed so much of himself to her, even while concealing a lot more. One hand slid down her arm to grasp her fingers, fondling them between his own. "Are you sure you've thought this through? I mean…being with me. This is your only chance to back out, Therese." He leaned forward to breathe his next words into her ear, his bastard side resurfacing for the moment. "Because now that I've tasted Heaven, I won't let you walk away tomorrow."

Eames feared he'd done something wrong when she pushed him back to level a stone-hard glare at him. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat as she sat up on her knees, unconcerned about her nudity. "First of all, you can't make me do, or not do, anything. So don't pull that shit with me. And secondly, I'm not some lovesick schoolgirl. I've given this more thought than necessary, Ian. I know what I'm getting into and I'm willing to accept the risks involved."

Are you really? he wanted to snap at her. Instead, he ran his fingers over her shoulder and down her arm; it hit him now that the gesture had become a habit of his whenever he wanted to protect her from something he couldn't take care of with a bullet. "I'm not a good man, Therese. More than you're aware. I've made quite a few enemies in my life and…" He clamped his mouth shut before he revealed too much. Too late.

"Enemies? What are they going to do? Blacklist you from flying business class? Take away your VIP Lakers tickets?" Her words were playfully mocking, but her tone was dead serious. Eames didn't bother to correct her assumptions; let her think that he only meant corporate rivals instead of nameless, faceless assassins. He turned to lie on his back when she threw a leg over him, settling her weight low across his stomach. "We've all done things we're not proud of, Ian. We've all made mistakes. Now, some people might hold yours against you, but I don't. I don't care what you've done, naïve as that might be."

Oh, darling, you have no idea. On one hand her ignorance was enough of a reason to walk out of her life right now before she came to harm, but on the other her faith in him was endearing. "I also gamble…a lot." In more ways than one.

Therese smiled at him before leaning down to lay chest-to-chest with him, her necklace pressing into their flesh. "Why are you trying so hard to talk me out of this? Isn't this what you want, too?"

That note of fear in her voice hit him like a slap. He immediately pulled her up for a heated kiss to push the doubt right out of her mind, one hand caressing the back of her head. "More than you know, love," he whispered, his lips brushing hers.

Her fingertips traced his cheekbones and down his jaw to meet at his chin. "Then what are you afraid of?"

Everything. "Corrupting you." Well, that was insipid.

"Ohhh, sweetheart," she crooned, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "You think I'm an innocent little princess?" Eames looked to the mark he'd left on her neck. He carefully touched it, thinking about how glaringly visible it would be in the morning... and how much she'd enjoyed receiving it. "I don't doubt you could probably teach me a few things, but I could make your head spin with the things I know." He had to close his eyes for a moment to regain control of himself. It didn't stop the low groan that vibrated through his chest at the thought of what she'd stored in that beautiful head of hers. "You said you had a third question, yes?" she asked around kisses to his throat.

Good God, I've awakened a monster. "Now that you mention it…Christ, woman!" Her teeth had found his nipple and tugged. He felt her lips turn up in a smile and met her eyes with a mixture of awe and anticipation. "Where the hell have you been hiding this hellcat, and why haven't you let it out to play sooner?"

She shook against him as she laughed. Music to his ears, second only to the sounds he'd coaxed from her earlier. "Ahhh, I wasn't sure you could handle it, what with your oh-so-delicate sensibilities and all."

Her teasing was brutal, but he liked it. "You sure you don't have me confused with some limpdick excuse for a man?"

Therese sat up and shifted her hips lower, positioning herself just over his throbbing erection. She took his hands and placed them on her breasts, a sigh cutting through the air at the contact of his rough palms on the sensitive skin. "Why don't you refresh my memory then." She arched into his touch as she took him inside her again.

Any other time Eames would have enjoyed the show, committing every move to memory as she rode him. But she'd asked…demanded he prove himself. And who was he to deny a beautiful woman? He allowed her only a few moments of dominance, his thumbs bringing her nipples into hardened peaks, before skillfully rolling her beneath him. Now that he knew she liked it a little rough, he didn't hold back.


Omg, they totally did the DO! But this isn't the end of the story. I've got a couple more key scenes that need to play out before I call this fic done. Reviews make my world go 'round! –puppy eyes-