"Sea, sea," he moans, fighting to not claw at her. He sure as fuck wants to. "Ba mhaith liom é." Sweeney tries not to choke on the words, not bothering to translate them right now. She's allowed him this tongue, and now he finds he can't stop it.

"Le do thoil...ná stad." His toes curl in his boots.

There's a moment where he's trying to remember something, a thought he'd had when she'd first asked her how he wanted her. Every time he thinks he's starting to catch it, her tongue rubs at him with the most welcome distraction.