Even with his body's begging, there's still a flicker of surprise when he's finally granted the entrance he so desperately aches for. Sweeney wants to shove. And shove and shove and shove. He burns to fill her and lose himself inside her as the sounds of their shared ecstasy fills the room. But part of him knows he shouldn't, and it tries to keep a leash on himself.

Sweeney struggles to keep his strokes shallow, more rocking than fully pushing. He wants her to have time to adjust so she isn't crying out in surprised pain again. The torture of it makes him wince and whimper behind lips pressed so tightly they're white. His eyes roll beneath their lids; he doesn't dare look at her, lest his resolve break.