He quells the sound that wants to rise in his throat at her stroking, so when he responds with, "Christ," it's on a sharp exhalation instead. He can handle her face even at its most earnest — maybe because it's still so pretty to look at, same as when she cries — but his tolerance for that translating into the shit she says to him hasn't increased any since they started this thing.

"I should've just drowned myself. Don't think 'cause you've got my cock in your hand that's off the table." He sighs and thrusts his fingers into her cunt punishingly. "Marta. I have been out for one day." And, wryly, "My needs have gotten a lot simpler. It would make me delirious with joy to feel you come. How about we let that be good enough?"