He's still panting and blinking the stars from his eyes, but the words filter through on only a very slight delay, and when they register he lets out a short, breathless laugh.

"Really good," he agrees, rolling them onto their sides so she can't hide her face; so he can look at her, can press lazy, languid kisses to her mouth again and again, like he's still making up for all the times he could have and didn't.