Arthur pushed back, taking him that much deeper, moaning Eames' name as he scrabbled at the countertop.
"Oh, god," Arthur begged, "I can't… fuck, I need…"
"Leave your hands right fucking there," Eames growled, and Arthur's cock jumped at that rumble in his ear.
Eames pounded into him, grazing his prostate on every stroke and making Arthur "Ah!" each time, higher and louder, over and over until he thought he'd go mad.
He was leaking pre-come, spilling a little more with each thrust.
Finally, Eames wrapped a hand around him, stroking in time with his hips.
"That's my good boy."