He gives a considerate hum as he thinks of quitting the sniping business in order to service her at all hours of the day. In response to that, he flattens his tongue and works her a little harder, his grip growing tighter because he wants these marks to last and he wants her to feel them tomorrow. If she can't sit down tomorrow, that will be a success. If she can barely walk, then he'll know that he's done well.

"Mi amor," he murmurs, a soft kiss brushed to her thigh, allowing his beard to bristle the soft skin, before returning to his task with care and steady, focused devotion.