His head burns. His skull begins to threaten mutiny, and yet, it's still pleasant enough to seep into his bones, into the hollow spaces within. Neil inhales in shudders at Alex's mouth on his throat and the curve of his collar, his nerves frayed and his mind mercifully blank.

At the hand squeezing around him, at fingers releasing to slip back, the man exhales on a groan. Shifts to allow contact. With it, something sparks along his synapses, painful enough for Neil to slip out a small noise. A sound edging toward discomfort.

Between everything else, however, it's hardly distinct, and his motions never pause.