Arthur exhaled slowly, pressing a held-back smile against the curve of the back of Eames' neck. He drummed an irregular beat against the soft skin of Eames' bare belly with his fingertips.

"Darling," Eames said, pen bleeding into the square for eighteen down, "this is decidedly unsportsmanlike behavior."

Arthur laughed, his thumb catching in Eames' belly button. "Have problems focusing?"

Eames sighed heavily, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Only on the puzzle, I assure you."