When she finally shows mercy and parts her knees, Sweeney's mindful as he withdraws his hand. He flexes his fingers, stretching them back to a fuller range of motion after the strain against her clenched muscles. It'd been a tight fit, but worth the effort. His eyes searches her face as she tucks back his hair.

"Not hurt?"

He sounds cautiously hopeful. Speaking of hopeful, his slick fingers drop subconsciously to his prick. The stroke is slow and not particularly purposeful, just an idle motion that smears her arousal with his, leaving his skin glistening.

Sweeney's doing his best not to race on, but now that there's not an act to distract himself with, his cock needs at least passing attention, especially if he's not going to get rough again. It would be counterproductive to undo all the work he'd just done.