[Arthur doesn't have much left in him, and if it's possible he gets even louder in the leadup to his orgasm. When it hits he shouts and shudders and writhes under Eames' grip, clenching and rolling his hips with every wave that moves through him. It feels so fucking good and Arthur doesn't remember the last time he felt like this, if he ever felt like this at all. For now this is all that exists or matters.]
no subject