Neil moves his hand away, putting both of them onto the pillows behind him. He watches Harry raptly as he works at him, that tease and then the hot, wet heat of his mouth. By some miracle, Neil's hips don't jump; he groans, this soft, pitifully needy noise as he tips his head back.

"Shit," he breathes, biting his lip and digging his heels into the mattress a little.