Of course with Eames, tossing things around like that was not the same as for Arthur. He'd worry about it later, not letting it interfere with something so much more important.

Arthur naked, willing, moving to wriggle his way onto Eames' lap. He didn't strike him. Not yet. First was soothing, reminding him that all of this, the whipping and everything else, came with more than just physical pain and gratification.

"How many do you think you need," he asked, stroking the curve of his ass.