Despite his slim build, Arthur looked no slouch when he was undressed. He kept himself in shape but still managed to be as unlike Eames physically as they were mismatched in disposition. He never thought about how their differences complimented each other, that was admitting something too personal.

It was easier to try and focus on Ariadne, her easy forcefulness, the way she had--even before this--insinuated herself easily between them. Is that why he wasn't objecting to this? Or--

Arthur choked on a moan for Eames' thumb and no, maybe that was why he was slow to object. The scrape of soft facial hair against his skin never failed to wake his nerves up but tonight they didn't get the chance to settle again because Ariadne's clever fingers were on him, tracing him as if she'd draw him later from memory. Arthur breathed out, skimming fingers down over her backside to keep her close as he shifted back against Eames. One hand lifted to cup a small breast, rolling the pert nipple between a thumb and forefinger.