The tightness around him makes everything blindingly pleasurable. There is a notion which passes through his thoughts, to say her name, to speak to her and warn her that he's close. All words which stay unuttered except by every trembling of his voice, and the fierceness of his thrusting.

It's difficult to tell who comes first. He was already at the tipping point when she clenches around him, sending him over the edge with every part of her body and voice. Together they shudder as he gives a few last, deep thrusts before holding her hips firmly as he pours into her. He's left sweating and panting, moving one hand to lean on the table as he lets the ebbing waves of ecstasy crash over him.

The surge of blissful euphoria made him mostly oblivious to the initial awareness of that magical pulse. It's only as his head clears of the lustful haze that he retroactively realises the sensation he'd felt, the sounds he'd heard and, as he glances around at rattled drawers and lamps on their sides, the slight disarray he can see.

Magic isn't something he fully understands and, now no longer driven by animalistic urges, he's inclined to err on the side of caution. So once he's caught his breath, he looks down at her laid out across the small table. "Are you alright?"