Lucy could do nothing but moan, a faint, strangled, but undeniably pleased little sound, eyes half-lidded as her head tipped back against the pillow, back arching. She may have become fairly experienced in these endeavors over the past few years, but that didn't lessen her enjoyment of it — she was presently lying under him for a reason, after all, and not because she had nothing better to do —, and he knew what he was doing, if the minutes leading up to this were any indication. The thought only served to make her more eager. A hand of her own pressed against his back, she curled her fingers slightly, enough that her nails just met his skin, a means of encouraging him without saying anything. Injured she might have been, but she wasn't some fragile thing to be treated too gently, either.