Arthur will never, ever admit, to anyone, that being annoyed by Bradley actually makes the sex better. That when Bradley smirks with Arthur's face and says, "I know you'll love this," Arthur just wants him even more than he wants to punch him. That seeing that stupid drunk-happy expression on his own face, and hearing careless, ridiculous thoughts spoken aloud in his own voice triggers intense lust like very little ever has, as his own hands -- but not his own, working with less familiarity, more clumsiness than his real own would -- struggle with the laces of his trousers. They've been sharing their clothes, there hasn't been time yet to make better arrangements, so when Arthur tears rips into Bradley's shirt it is also his own, as well as his body that is then beneath his hands, exactly, exactly the same.

He lets Bradley top, and this, he will also never admit. He will have a conversation with Bradley the next morning, in which one of Arthur's favourite daggers will make a third, and make sure Bradley never tells anyone, even Arthur himself, who will edit his memory accordingly. This "actore" thing -- professional deceit-making, Arthur thinks -- must surely mean Bradley has the skills required to fake a sore arse, in case anyone has overheard what they've been up to.

It is definitely Bradley who is being so loud that someone is bound to overhear them.