Arthur didn't bother lifting his mouth from Ariadne's shoulder at the disrobing, though light suction became the scrape of teeth for the dragging of fingers across his chest and then the hiss of breath through a soft bite for Eames' hand. Ignoring Eames' words was easier when he didn't have to answer them but the warm palm and familiar fingers were something else entirely. Arthur's back jerked with the sensation, arching, dragging him from Ariadne and up against Eames.

He could feel his ears warming with a faint embarrassement; Ariadne knowing about them was one thing but being able to see him react so easily to Eames' touch felt... almost intrusive. If only because it madea Arthur realize that he was doing it.