Date smiles against your kiss, feeling you shake and indulging in a little shiver or two of his own. It's all deliciously pleasurable. He's just riding it all, contented.

When you speak he strokes your wet hair out of your eyes, meeting yours with his own, and a soft shake of his head. "Shh," he breathes, stroking your hair, your nape, your shoulders, pressing you against him, to relax, to be supported by him. "Don't rush it. Just enjoy it for now. I'm fine."