A soft gasp. His hand strokes her hair. "Deryn."
She smiles. Moves her mouth down another inch, then back up.
His skin is hot under her lips. Salty. Wet. She hums.
"God's wounds," he says. His fingers grip her skull. "Deryn, Liebe, bitte –"
Closer, she thinks; not there yet. She changes the angle, the pressure.
He sucks in a sharp breath. Fingers tighten; not painfully. Promisingly.
There.
"Mein Gott," he says, voice hoarse.
She knows she has him. Smiles again.
Keeps on until the only Clanker-talk he's capable of is Ja, ja, ja…
Until he's out of words altogether.