If he believed in angels, in heavenly things, in gods and higher power, he would have been believed more ardently in her heavenly appearance. But he believed in real things, in the strength of power, in the pursuit of it's meaning, in this world not the next and now her body felt more real to him than the pain brought by the edge of a razor blade. He moaned against her, panting hard as his body began to shudder once more.
If he was to succumb to the distraction of sex, he might as well enjoy it, he thought and enjoy it he did. Chagall sought her lips, her mouth, the wetness of her tongue between moans, kissing her hotly and suddenly he felt himself tremble uncontrollably and his body burst in heat, flushing her through.