Skellig has managed to somehow both keeps his hands to himself, and keep his gaze fixed upon her own, encouraging her (not that she needs much direction at this point, he's also more than willing to let her find his spots) with verbal direction and simple sounds of pleasure.

But this.

He exhales roughly, tipping his head back as his hips press upwards towards hers, having to break eye contact briefly with his focus moving to the trees above them, the sky endless beyond his gaze.

"I know now this is real, this space," he murmurs. "But if for some reason it was not, I would wish to make it so. Never...never have I felt this way."

This loved and protected, this safe and secure. This wanting and wanted, equal parts. He moans happily - there is no need for wards here to hide his voice, his cries of pleasure and passion. He is free to be himself, and he is glad of it.