Eames hands lower from Arthur's hair to his neck and from there to his shirt, popping open the few buttons that still are fastened. His arms have less mobility than usual due to the shoulder injury, which is why he's using that shirt to yank Arthur all the way down to him and chases that haunted look hopefully off his face with a harder, deeper kisses.

From there it's relatively easy to slide his hands down to Arthur's hips and over them to his arse, pushing under layers of cloth to curve his fingers around well rounded buttocks. He manages to mostly push down the trousers and whatever's under there, so when he pulls Arthur down and rocks his hips up, there's dick against dick through the soft cotton of Arthur's underwear.

"Get these off," he demands impatiently.