His capacity for speech is quickly diminishing, as she increases her rhythm and the pace which she is dictating (he is matching her with his own motion, certainly not just playing the 'passive' role entirely) builds. But there are still some words he can manage.

"Would gladly feast upon you," he moans softly. "However you would give yourself to me. Any manner is a pleasure."

If she's riding his face or if he has her flipped onto her back and he's allowing her to 'relax' with him in control, it makes no difference to him. "Whatever you would want." He is getting closer now, skin warm (but there is no sun here to warm it, just lamps and flame?) and senses clear, energy weaving throughout the space.