He feels it in the tension in Neil's thighs before he even says anything and he's pulling back a second later, breathless and staring up again. He's always been proud of his ability to do this well, though enthusiasm is half of it and there's no way he wouldn't be enthusiastic, here. He licks his lips, still tasting Neil on them, and yanks himself up onto the ledge next to him, standing, looming over Neil with water running in rivulets down his skin.

"Get up," he says, in a voice that doesn't invite any argument.