That unsteady plea is met with a swift response. As he watches Delta start to lose composure, to fall into instinct and reflex rather than pure thought, he quickens that pace. Still rhythmic, still steady in a way that can be counted on and prepared for, just more. Harder. Faster. Increased by increments as he lets his own reserves loosen a little at a time.

It is never only one of them that is undone by this. Not when it's done properly.

"I've got you," he promises in low, rough tones, before hitching his hips hard, and this time angling to strike deep and true. He sees that flicker in his eyes, and knows for a fact that better than that can still be earned...