Another low groan of lazy pleasure as he pushed his head against her hand, eyes closed, like his eyes knew before his brain did that keeping his eyes closed meant staying in blissful denial a few minutes longer. But as the feeling faded, which it did slowly, combined with twitching aftershocks of pleasure shooting through the long comedown, there was room inside him for the dawning realisation of who she was and what they'd done.
Much's body didn't want to work, his strength hadn't come back to his limbs yet, but he rolled off her and collapsed on his back, panting and staring at her high ceiling. "I shouldn't've come," he mumbled, needing to say it for his sake, not for hers. "This isn't me."