"Eames..." he breathes, a hoarse moan dragged out of his throat as he feels that big hand wrap around him. There's no way this brutal pace is going to let them last long, which Arthur laments to some extent, but he can tell it's going to be damn satisfying.

He does his best to ride Eames hard, forcing his eyes open to watch that reddened, rugged face, tempted again as always to lean down and bite at those lips. His body's tight, tense, primed for release, but he's determined not to until he's wrung Eames dry, first.