Ariadne's tongue and Eames' attention kept Arthur's mind well from the fact that he had let himself be put into so compromising a position--it was only when he could breathe again, somewhat, and watched Eames kiss Ariadne over his shoulder and then murmur into her ear, that Arthur realized where he'd ended up.

Trying to extract himself helped refocus his thoughts from the way Ariadne looked with Eames' lips pressing against her. Or vice versa. Arthur brought his shoulder up to try and box the other man away from his neck. "What?" It was an attempt at command, but his voice was soft with short breath.