"Yeah. For awhile, I just wasn't sure." York tilts his head into the hand in his hair, enjoying the fingers brushing against his scalp. Enjoying just being touched for something besides violence or grounding, being touched because someone wants him. His own hands return the favor, running down Ratchet's neck and chest and feeling the strength there, the play of muscle as the other man breathes. He's caught his own breath, and honestly he'd pin Ratchet to the couch and go back to kissing if he didn't look just so overwhelmed.

"When was the last time you were with someone?" he asks curiously, no judgment in his voice.