She bites away a sheepish smile, free hand coming up to trace the jut of his hip. "'K, yeah. Wow. Sorry." And Sam gets a kick out of that, how she's cringing in sympathy but also completely not stopping--like she can't help it or wants to distract him, he isn't sure which. Her fingers tap out a nervous rhythm against his abdomen. "I'll be gentle."

Only then she definitely isn't, swallowing him down with absolutely no preamble; backing off and swallowing less when he gets all-the-way hard. Sam groans before he realizes he's going to do it. "Fuck, Andy." Her mouth is very, very wet.

She hums an answer against his skin, sucks him quick and sloppy, and jesus, she's not being careful enough with her teeth. (Probably on purpose, now that Sam's looking; like she'd maybe be smirking if her mouth wasn't full.) He's got a hand halfway to her head before he stops himself.

Andy pulls off his cock with a smack. "Go for it."

Sam blinks. "What?"

Now she really does smirk. "Go. For it." Nice and clear, lifting her chin in the direction of his hand.

So.