Holy hell, how he wants to fuck her. This torment calls for will he's not sure he'll possess for long. But there's something in the way she touches him so delicately that woos him to try. The grazing over his scars still evokes a flicker of panic, but then her hand is on his cock, and he forgets to worry about it. When she grips him properly, he doesn't notice that he's holding his breath, acutely focused.

"Yes." The word is barely air, and Sweeney swallows before trying it a bit firmer. "Yes." Gods, it's torture, purposeful enough to tempt, but without enough pressure to offer any relief.

"Yes," he manages, wetting his lip as his brow crinkles with focus.

"Also--" Okay, so how can he explain the next bit? Sweeney moves carefully and wraps his hand over hers. He squeezes it, just a touch, to encourage her while still letting her explore.

"Can--more." Is that what he means? He pulls her hand gently towards him in another stroke.

"Will not hurt. If--" What's the word? "Firm. More."