He caught the end of her moan with his lips, as though he might be able to grasp the sound with them, keep it all to himself and file it away in his memory. The nails grazing against his back made something turn in his stomach, low and light, and the kiss broke then for him to press his nose against the side of her neck, cutting off a part of his senses, barring vision so that he had time enough to focus on everything else. Gradually, he began to move, a hand still splayed over the small of her back as a low growl sounded in the back of his throat. He couldn't tire of this. Getting to know someone in the basest of ways, all action and no careful, calculating thought. Just instinct.

Like the one telling him to go faster, breath regularly catching in his throat.