Neil is keyed up, but he's relaxed. There's no shift for a bedside table, no click of lube being opened, and Neil's face flushes exponentially. It's hardly the first time he's done something that demanded a quicker, filthier sort of preparation, but normally that was because he was messing around in a bathroom or something.

He nuzzles his face against the sheets, letting himself open up to it, those spit-slick fingers deft and confident, and gentle.