It takes some time for the riot of sensation in Jon to calm enough to let him feel the outward sensations of his skin, hot and sweat-stuck wherever it presses against Jean'Claude's. The light touch of Jean-Claude's breath against his damp neck is blissfully cool, and the sharpness of feeling combined with the spice of his own blood rouses him mostly back to himself.

"I don't think I can walk regardless," Jon acquiesces with a faintly put-upon mutter. He's still trembling now with exhaustion, and the press of Jean-Claude's hands feel like the only thing keeping him upright. Jean-Claude will discover with his thorough and solicitous touching, another anomaly of Jon's body: two soft gapes where ribs should be spaced asymmetrically down his sides. Jon twitches slightly when Jean-Claude's hands stroke over those absences.