"Fantastic," he murmurs, humming happily at the touch, although he scoots forward just a little so that he can lean forward and settle himself against the arm of the couch, head pillowed on his arms.

"Feeling...quiet? Good quiet. A little floaty." He's still hard, too, but there's nothing urgent about it. After a good thrashing his brain shuts up and there's nothing urgent about anything. It's a wonderful relief.