He snorfles a laugh against her, which is OK, because he needs to breathe anyway.

'What, you'd be yellin' for me? We'll have t'try it.'

Enough of a break. He gets back to it, teasing and flicking, rubbing inside her. He can't decide whether it'll be better to bring her off again, or just wait until she's nothing but a ball of melted nerve endings, and go for it then.

Decisions decisions.