A grunt, practically a bark, whatever, no sense anymore. No more building fervor either, no more ascent, just a muscle-tightening view from the summit, and that sweet surging fall...

A fall through the rushing winds of euphoria, into the welcoming softness of another post-coital glow.

Indy lies on his back in the half-darkness, wide-eyes staring upwards. His sweat-sheened chest heaves, under another, as he tries to catch his breath.