For Eames, it was like flipping a switch. He could be gentle, loving, a good friend with soft hands, but that wasn't what either of them wanted. No, he would give her what he gave Arthur, or at least, what he started out giving Arthur before he fell in a bit too deep.

He pressed into the kiss, tongue and teeth and lips, placing his scotch glass on the table to free his hand before working the tie of his robe off. He removed his other hand from Ariadne's hair only to push his robe off, to allow it to pool underneath him, before returning it to it's previous position, his lips never leaving Ariadne's.