It's the gasping and shivering that really gets York, the little sounds pulled from Ratchet's throat as he finds sweet spots along his palate. He doesn't hold his own responses back, humming at the feel of Ratchet's hands and moaning softly when Ratchet's tongue strokes along his own just right to send a little thrill down his spine. But they do both need to breathe so eventually he nips Ratchet's lower lip and pulls his mouth away, shifting lower to trail his lips and tongue along the curve of Ratchet's neck toward his ear.

There's not that much closer to get but hell if York doesn't try, sinking more of his weight onto the other man as he moves. He supports himself on just one arm, his other hand skimming along Ratchet's side and finding the hem of his shirt and the soft skin of his waist beneath it. His touch is just firm enough that it shouldn't tickle but still light enough to be called a caress.