His legs were rubbery enough that he didn't trust them to hold him without the aid of his hands on the mast to come down to her. He felt as though he had to, right then, wanting nothing more than to kiss her deeply, intimately. He wobbled a little, stumbled into her, and drew her into his arms.

Despite being spent, he kissed her hard, one arm across her back, one hand at the back of her head. His breath was noisy through nostrils, still not fully caught from the intense orgasm. When he had to breathe, he turned his mouth just slightly, only enough to part lips and draw in the air. He could taste himself on her lips and tongue. "That was so good," he murmured. "Maker's breath you had me dying up there."