His breath catches in his throat, and he has to force himself to let it out. She looks so beautiful like this, not doing it because she has to, but because she clearly wants to. It lets him relax, and not rush, confident that she's enjoying it too.

The knot in his gut wants it harder, tighter, faster. But he says nothing, and doesn't encourage her, doesn't push further into her mouth. The slow sucking, the gentle pulse around him as she squeezes, her hands all over his body - he moans quietly on the next exhale, and strokes his fingers through her hair, trusting her to get them there eventually.