Hell, why hadn't he asked to watch this before? Sweeney subconsciously wraps his hand around his cock, but tilting it downward, with the back of his hand mostly obscuring the increasingly swelling flesh. It's not out of modesty; it allows him to more idly massage the blood in, instead of actual stroking.

The sight is utterly hypnotic, and he--OH NOW HER FINGERS ARE IN HER MOUTH. Sweeney stills and goes bright red. That? That he had not expected. He barely has time to think before those fingers are back in her, and she's got his name on her tongue.

Fuck. She's going to be the death of him.

The act makes him sacrifice his vantage to crawl up on the bed, aiming to get himself between her legs as he smooths his palms up them, starting at her ankles.