Arthur laughs at the stupid, stupid joke, giddy in a way that has nothing to do with airway blockage, and with a "shhh" he goes in for seconds.

He doesn't attempt to deep-throat this time, instead taking his chance to get familiar with the head: rolling his tongue, and going almost obsessively to the very tip where saltiness collects. Arthur breathes out hard. He had, full disclosure, been worried that doing this to Crichton would feel... god, he doesn't know. Feminine. Incorrect. But now that he's here, now that they're both here, it's -- well, it's -- it's good.