shewaswarned | (no subject)

These really aren't ideal walking shoes Ellen's chosen, but then again, she didn't exactly anticipate walking up the side of what could legally be termed a mountain - and she's a lawyer, after all, she's rife with legal terms. Somehow, by the grace of something (she stopped believing in higher powers a long time ago, especially after everything that happened to David), she makes it up with little incident, even if she has to bemoan the state of her shoes upon their arrival at the very top. Glancing over at Eames, he seems used to the whole trip, though she can't picture him making it multiple times every day. Maybe that makes his appearances among the general island population all the more appreciated. The giant V catches her eye and she hides a smile to herself for the most part, until the ground finally levels out and they're standing in front of the rather impressive home. The exterior alone doesn't exactly seem suited to a man of his taste, but the square footage alone looks pretty significant compared to the other huts scattered around the island.

"The view'd better be good," she says, but she's only mildly out of breath, cheeks flushed slightly as she smooths both hands over the front of her dress, adjusting the hem. "Really, if I'd known we were going to be participating in a good climb I would've packed some better shoes for this." She tilts her hips to one side, glancing back over one shoulder and lifting a foot to examine the mud caked on the bottom of her heels. When she sets her foot back down, she narrows her eyes at him, but there's no malice behind it, only playfulness. "And I might have to insist on you finding me replacements for this pair."

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"I could say the same," she murmurs, her smile loose and relaxed as they make their way toward the bed in something of a slow shuffle, moving together. They have to, anyway, for this portion and for what comes next. One misstep here and they'll trip over each other's feet, but something tells her that won't happen. They're taking this slowly, but not so slowly that she's impatient about getting there, although she is the one who makes contact with the bed first, leaning back and pulling away from him when the backs of her legs hit the edge of the mattress, laying out on the bed and waiting for him to follow. The temptation to shrink beneath his gaze is there. She's more exposed lying here in front of him than she was standing earlier, pressed up against him with more under his fingertips than visible to the eye, but she doesn't shy away, her dark eyes meeting his and holding his gaze steadily as she shifts back toward the head of the bed and the pillows there.

Eames does take a moment — it's impossible not to, he reasons, or, if nothing else, he would be incredibly stupid to — to look her over when she stretches out, eyes raking over every last stunning inch of her, hungry and not bothering to hide it. No matter how many beautiful women he's been with, and there are a good number (not to mention, he's been one himself before, on multiple occasions), his appreciation for someone this attractive doesn't wane, and he knows he wouldn't want it to. Someone this stunning deserves nothing less. He doesn't take any longer than that, though, before slowly climbing onto the bed as well, one knee situating itself between both of hers, weight on his palms when he leans down over her, kissing her again. It might not be the most ideal thing to do when her mouth's just been around his cock, but all things considered, that hardly matters. They were going to get to it anyway, this practically requiring it.

She's starting to lose patience - not with him, not specifically. It's more of a slowly building anticipation that's managed to reach its cresting here and now as he crawls over her, one hand keeping himself propped above her as he slides a knee between her legs and she rolls her hips down to feel him close. The heat between them is palpable, significantly felt even though there's still inches of distance hovering between his skin and hers, and she slides a hand up the breadth of his chest, over the curve of one shoulder and down along his back, fingers mapping out slight lines and smooth skin and the ridge of his spine. She's still got her panties on, and as far as logistics goes, they're going to be something of a complication in about ten seconds, but right now, she wants to feel every inch of him pressed against her, his warmth and weight covering her, and she beckons him down, mouth surging hungrily against his.

Now that he's on top of her, Eames wouldn't have needed much encouragement anyway, but that doesn't make him any less appreciative to be getting it. Leaning down over her, pressed close against her, he returns the kiss with equal fervor, more tongue and teeth than anything else. Technique isn't really what matters here anymore, though, not when she's warm underneath him and clearly wants more. Far be it for him to deny her. "Mm, Christ," he murmurs against her mouth, one hand working its way between them, smoothing slowly, deliberately over one breast and along her ribcage until he can hook his fingers in the waistband of her underwear. "Let's get these off, shall we?"

It's taken her some time to realize she doesn't shy away from a little roughness. David wasn't the biggest fan, but later on, after everything, Wes would just throw out his arms and let her take what she wanted every time she'd knocked on his apartment door late at night. She's sure his body bore the remnants of her teeth sinking in, nails scratching just enough for him to feel it, and somehow the struggle for who got to stay on top persisted, That temptation persists here, even as she wriggles underneath, shifting her hips to assist him, until the only thing hanging between them is the need that is almost palpable, desire lingering in the almost nonexistent space. "Do you have any - ?" she starts to ask, realizing it might be kind of a ridiculous time to ask the question but also recognizing that he probably would be prepared for this sort of event.