he who hesitates is toast

They're both breathing hard as the rush slows, coaxing each other back down and winding up sweat-slicked and clinging to one another. It's probably a good thirty seconds or longer before Sharon can do anything but shiver with aftershocks and try to breathe.

The laugh she muddles into his shoulder is absolutely airless. "God."

Moving at all feels like pushing through water; she shifts just enough to pull away and collapse again, lying half on him, half at his side. She presses a lazy kiss to his shoulder, smiling and content.

"My sweetheart."