As a matter of fact, Ariadne had been making similar comparisons as she kissed Arthur - that was a little more giving, a little less demanding, than Eames had been. It wasn't better, or worse, just different. Nice, would probably be the word to describe it, though she'd been thinking he was an asshole just a few minutes earlier.

She did almost forget that they were in Eames' hotel room, though, until Arthur's hand slid to her collarbone and she felt a twinge there - the marks Eames had left, of course. She watched Arthur watching Eames, and at his suggestion her eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I... I've never..."

She'd never even thought about it, really, not until now, but now she was thinking about it and she took in a breath, her face flushing.