Jedao is just as overwhelmed, and he rests his cheek against Eiffel's back and pants, holding himself so carefully still, fighting not to shudder at how hot and perfect Eiffel feels around him, under him. He feels drunk with it, hazy and sweet. He slings his free arm around Eiffel's belly, barely sliding it between them, careful not to go too low, and just holds on.

"Yeah, just breathe," he mumbles softly. "We got you, baby. All the time you need."