He manages to return the kiss with an equal amount of ferocity and desire - and for a fair length longer than an average human, also. After all, when one flies at high altitudes, their lungs are more adept at consuming oxygen on a measured basis.

But she is so very hungry. And the lungs of a dragon are much, much stronger than those of an owl...

Skellig holds on as long as he possibly can before he weakly taps his hand against her shoulder, distracting her attention away from the kiss - which he drops back from, a vivid display of sparks and spots crackling across his vision, the room dark around the edges. He's panting, hard, desperate for air - and for her to do that again, once his heartrate comes back down and his lungs quit spasming in his chest.

"Win," he gasps out. "You. Win."