There was a quiet reluctance and desperation in the shaken inhale he took when he finally broke the kiss enough to let them both breath, face staying close to hers, sharing her space in every way he could with their clothes still on and no magics involved. He wanted her--he always wanted her--but it would be dangerous for them here. Their tantric magics were always nothing less than powerful, and this place seemed to feed on power.
So he was resisting for once in his life. For now.
John hadn't opened his eyes yet though, insisting on resting his forehead against hers, hands still on her face almost protectively, like he was just as afraid as she was that she wasn't real. And it was a possibility given all they'd both been through. He could feel her, taste her, but reality and magic didn't always get along, and he'd been broken enough that his magics had manifested in comforting lies before.