Ariadne was making little noises, all right. Whimpers, sighs, moans. She rode Eames hard, her hips rising and falling with each breath. She kissed Eames again, hearing something behind her with the part of her brain that wasn't thinking fuck, yes, more, I'm close, but she didn't fully register it because a twist of her hips against him pushed her over the edge.

She moaned, low in the back of her throat, clinging to Eames as she shuddered with orgasm. Somewhere in the haze of pleasure, however, she realized there was someone else in the room.