[He's close, he can feel it pooling in the pit of his stomach, and Eames' eyes screw shut and his head falls back as he tries to get there. The restraint it takes not to make the noises he usually would is visible in the way his neck and arms tense and strain, fingers digging in hard on Arthur's legs. What works its way out of him is a whimper and a sob that he'd probably bite down harder on if he realised there are still people who can hear them, but he'll have plenty of time to be embarrassed later.]
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