Well, maybe not something he can oblige her in right now.

He doesn't have a moment to consider it before he has to bite back a whimper. Fuck, she's so warm. Sweeney's hands instinctively lift from the grass, getting nearly a foot up before he pushes them back down. His head tilts back as he wills himself to focus, pulling a sharp breath in. It doesn't come back out.

He tries again, but the words keep catching.

"Think--think ya might. Might want one. In here?" He forces himself to swallow.

"Could always try."