Right now whatever pace she'd like to set suits him just fine; he'd been overeager to even the score, but certainly he's in no rush to be finished with this. He's absently aware that there's still some cause for caution, but as long as she's taking the initiative he's happy to follow her lead. (And under the circumstances how could he not be?)

Here, safely surrounded by walls and with a mattress at his back rather than a tree trunk, he's noticeably more relaxed, more willing to respond with a soft sound or a sharp gasp here and there, hips bucking into her hand when it slips lower.

He tips his head back blissfully, running his hands up under her shirt with a little hum of joy.