They pick up a little, and Neil whines softly. He can feel the euphoric slackness on his face, mouth slightly open and eyes unfocused. His thighs ache, but only deliciously. It's a lot of work to keep his hips moving, but he does like it.

When he feels the way that Harry is sort of moving up toward him, he leans down. It puts him at a different angle, posture practically begging to be fucked more roughly; he kisses him, brief and filthy.