There's a moment where he seems about to pull away, stop this, but it's there, still ticking at the back of his skull. Without pausing to think about it, Eames leans forward, wrapping his hand around the back of Arthur's neck and obliterating the last little bit of space between them.

With a hum, Eames kisses Arthur with just the barest hint of desperation, of need, like he can't remember that he shouldn't and he just wants.