I'd Rather Die Terrified.
This will end in disaster, but that is not what worries Eames. As he pulls Arthur's shirt open in the stairwell, popping buttons off and making the perfectly groomed man just a little less perfect, Eames worries that in this life he will never get enough of the curve of Arthur's neck or the strength of Arthur's hands on his hips as they fuck.
He really should say 'make love' or some other euphemism, but he has yet to find one that captures the power and emotion. It is beautiful, but marked for disaster. Eames holds onto it while they can, dragging Arthur into the office with him.
The inevitability of disaster possibly makes it better as they fall back onto the bed. It is nothing but a futon-like mattress that Ariadne found at a charity shop and set up in one of the offices upstairs in the abandoned warehouse. When Ariadne isn't there sleeping curled up in a little ball, they have taken it over. The rest are happy to ignore that tornado upstairs as long as it ways there.
Arthur stares back at Eames from the bed in the low light of the office. Eames knows just the word for this look: coquettish, though maybe that carries to much innocence. Arthur has been teasing him all night long it seems. It is hot in Chennai, but Arthur refused to even take off his jacket while they ate dinner at a cafe with no air conditioning. Arthur was getting to know him too well, though Eames can't bring himself to care as he strips out of his clothes to join Arthur.
He never knows that Arthur's thoughts echo his own.