Harry didn't have to say anything at all; it was in the way he moved, the growing need and strength of his movement. Neil moans and twists a little, though it's not much. He just wants to get close, get the angle just right. Get more of the way that Harry is grabbing at him, just right.

His voice is soft, breathless, needy. Mostly moans, mostly inarticulate cursing. The slightest edge of begging, as he looks up at Harry with dark eyes.