It’s a slow, languishing pace that pulls all kinds of noise out of Neil. He can feel every inch, every push and pull on his body, every hot breath and considerate, heavy touch, and they all make him a noisy, easy mess, practically begging for more of it before too long. It builds steadily, even if Harry started out slow, and not before too long, Neil feels free to move a little more freely, sitting back and riding Harry from that kneeling pose.

“Fuck,” he sighs, “you feel so good.”