Arthur wasn't the only one. Eames, like this, was intoxicating in of itself. The growls, the words...pretty much everything about the forger was making his body feel a little too hot, too tight and yet not nearly enough.

He licked his lips and nodded his head, feeling his ears burn. "Mm, maybe you should," he murmured and looked at him. It wasn't about their differences in age at all. It was -- trusting Eames this much to do something like this. To trust Eames to take care of him and give him what he needed -- that he didn't even recognize that he needed until the other night.

"Please, daddy..."