Eames' jaw is tight when he reaches up to press his hand onto Arthur's stomach, making him lean back a little, cant his hips so that dick is going to brush against his prostate with each and every urgent fall of his hips.

Arthur clings to him tight and so damn good, Eames' heart is thundering in his ears and he has to close his mouth and breathe through his nose to hold on, to keep it going. There's wildness to Arthur that he hasn't seen for a long while, and if that doesn't drive him mad, very little else can.

"Come on," he urges in a low, rough voice as his other hand wraps around Arthur's cock to stroke him in time with the hard bouncing Arthur's doing.