Apollo and the Midnighter are not looking at Jeroen. It's a conscious descission and Midnighter silently thanks that bastard Bendox for his fight enhancements, because the faint fragments of his memory suggest his co-ordination would have gone to pot by now otherwise. Instead his hand is still sweeping up and down the Doctor's cock, and for a moment he tries to recall whose idea this was, but his memory module in his fight computer seems to have broken like Jeroen's breath.
He can feel Jeroen's pulse through the hand he has on his dick, his ears can hear every laboured breath. With his computer, calculating, warning him; he knows he can draw out this moment forever, time the twist and slide on Jeroen's cock until he stops begging and starts screaming for more, but then, Midnighter is not that kind of sadist.
He turns his attention back to Apollo, who almost certainly is that kind of sadist, and probably, the guy who thought it was a good idea to start with. And Apollo's talking, "there's a solar eclipse due, I should be asleep, keeping up my strength" he says.
There's a load groan, because there's something besides sleep being kept up.
"Perhaps you should go to bed," another more desperate groan as Midnighter almost imperceptably speeds his hand, "I can keep things up fine here," another groan, deep and revelling in the freedom as warm liquid begins to ooze over Midnighter's fist, he belays the chemical analysis, nothing he doesn't know, "Though, maybe, we could give you something to do in bed, while you're at it."
And he turns and smiles at the young Dutchman trapped in a moment of chemical bliss so different from his normal brand.