Sweeney smiles at the pain in his lip, content to follow her back down.

At her pleading, he shoves the name back in her mouth with his kiss, promptly followed by the rest of him all too eagerly getting to shoving of its own.

The experience is oddly different facing down the slope instead of up it, and while it may a trick of the mind, it feels like every thrust finds its way deeper. The act catches the frenzy she's begged for, and between his grunts and winces and the clenching of his jaw, his mouth never strays too far. Her neck, shoulders, and chest all bear the brutality of his teeth, and the hand in her hair presses into the grass, pinning her head in place.