Jackson's hands found her hips, tilted them so he could have at as much of her as possible, shoulders making certain that her legs were spread wide. Pep talk, sure, if she wanted to call it that. Honestly, as long as she kept talking, he didn't care. Not that he would stop if she forewent words in favor of groans and sighs, either. There were few things on this earth (or the station) that he liked doing more than this, right here, and he was very dedicated to his art, pulling one of his hands back from her hip to complement the work of his mouth, a brief hum encouraging her to keep talking.