Sex is not linear. It's a spiral staircase we climb with our eyes downcast, our gaze always falling to the step on which we stood at the previous turn of the circle. He didn't register her words immediately, but he soon would, looking back. “I know,” he eventually said. She closed her eyes to the look on his face, and tried not to hear the lie on his lips.

Three hundred sixty degrees to every touch and every breath, and she kept coming back to the one where she heard her words. “I'm going to leave you soon,” said Zhaan.

(I think I mentally jumbled your lines with Astrogirl's topic of choice, while looking at her drabble challenge in a fit of intense sleep deprivation. But I had to use it anyway. Forgive me.) :)