Dave has to just lie there, mostly ignoring the lanky troll sprawled all over him, as his body finds its beat again. It's his heart first, which is good - his chest aches a little, like his heart had skipped a few beats - thudding away quickly, but steadily beneath his ribcage.

His breaths follow - sort of. They hitch, every now and then, as little shocks of pleasure jolt up his spine, as his body tries to remember how to exist without fading away into a haze of pleasure - and it doesn't help that he can feel Gamzee's indigo bleeding out of him, pooling on the ground beneath his thighs. But for the most part, his breaths come in short, sharp - but rhythmic - pants.

There's pain, a bit - but certainly nothing like the last time. The small, stinging scratches have all pretty well healed already, which just leaves Dave with those few deeper punctures from where Gamzee gripped too hard, and a not-entirely-unpleasant ache between his legs. All in all, Dave thinks, taking a mental account of his body in the aftermath, not too shabby. And pretty well worth it.

He can't stay here, he knows. Afterglow is too red, too...something. Coherent thoughts are proving rather difficult. But his muscles don't seem to want to cooperate just yet, so he stays where he is, on his back, half under Gamzee.