Arthur's eyebrows drew together as he brought Eames' head to his and looking him square in the eye. "I wouldn't have laughed you off, Eames," he said seriously. "I thought about you after that first job -- dreamt of you when I still dreamt. I thought about your voice, thought about that way your arm slid around me and tugged me out of the line of fire from a nasty projection -- and I thought about the way you were so fucking capable and infuriating you were in your brilliance. It was only by the third...fourth job we took together that I really realized it for what it really was. I wasn't really infuriated...I was infatuated." He paused and took a breath, realizing everything had been tumbling out as though he had no definition of a filter. "Or as Mallorie liked to say, I had found my 'one' in you - the only man who can out stubborn me and worm his way past all my best defenses," he whispered. "And around that time was Monaco."

Arthur's lips quirked up. "Alright," he said, sliding a hand over Eames' cheek before turning and walking toward the bedroom, not even stopping to bother with their clothing. His ass was undoubtedly red as were his thighs and he could feel it with every movement he made. Fuck but it was a good feeling.