He could care less if the village thinks they've summoned an entire pack of demons to use just for sex, right now. Not with the way she's moving under his touch, crying out for him.

Skellig pushes her through her release, coaxing every last ounce of pleasure from her body until she collapses beneath him, and then he remembers to breathe. Her taste, her scent, everything is overwhelming to his senses and it takes him a moment to move from between her legs, to crawl his way up her body and wrap himself haphazardly around her, mindful of her wings.

Burying his face into her shoulder, he feels suddenly drunk, the room spinning a bit as endorphins run through his veins, bringing a wing up to cover her form - and steady himself.

Breathing. Breathing is important.