The feel of her hands is like the song of a sharp scythe making the first swing in the ripe field; every bit of effort is worth it. Both fruition and promise, he's all the hungrier for it. Her and her Up-bread.

Sweeney sucks a touch harder, but can't maintain it when his smile cracks. Instinctively, he catches her nipple between his teeth, just long enough for him to think better of it as he tilts his head back to look up at her. It leaves the skin taut for a moment before release, like the bow string he'd promised her. His other hand eases the tension, but doesn't let go.

"You want I stop?"

He suspects that she doesn't; he just wants to hear her admit it. Of course, if she wants to cut things short, he'll abandon this course.

If only to regroup and try a different approach.