Overrated, indeed. It suddenly crosses his mind to wonder how many times she has done this-- she is quite good at it.

It appears that a subtle, emphatic nod is about all he can manage at this point, in response to her statement. It could not possibly feel any better than it does; it is like giving sight to a blind man and immediately introducing him to the most beautiful image in the universe. Data is slowly coming close to losing it again-- gradually, but mere minutes after the last time.

He moans a little quietly, his speech processors seemingly compensating for the loss of volume with an increase in duration. The sound is somewhat uncomfortable, maybe a little desperate. His hands are still holding her to himself, and his eyes are closed, as he processes her scent, her voice, and most of all the feel of her around him.