It takes him a few long beats, just braced there on both forearms now, skin sweat-slick and eyes still closed, muscles tremoring slightly, before he's recovered enough to even think of moving. But while he waits, while he slows his ragged breathing and calms his racing heart, Jedao's voice is still there. Warm. Soothing. Safe. Beloved.

"Mine," he almost whispers when he's finally got enough breath back for it. "My ori'vod. My cyare." He shudders once more, draws in a stuttering breath, and pushes himself over to roll onto his side and then his back. He's an absolute mess; covered in sweat and come, his usually tidy hair a mess, even his goatee looking slightly mussed. And his eyes are still closed as he reaches to wipe his come-covered hand on a patch of sheet past the true disaster where he'd knelt.

He finally opens his eyes, still dark pools surrounded by a barely there ring of gold, blinks a couple times, then focuses on those unblinking golden eyes again. He looks a little dazed, still, fucked out and blissed out, and his lips twitch into a warm, slow smile. "Mine, Jed'ika," he repeats. "Never leave you alone."