"Oh, but--" Ratchet's voice dies in his throat and his eyes go briefly wide as York pushes down against him, sliding their hips together. His breath stutters and he pulls out of the kiss to arch neck over the arm of the couch, his eyes slipping shut and his lips parting as he clutches at York and rocks up against him, a gasp shuddering into his lungs.

"Fuck," he hisses, then bites down hard on his lower lip to keep from making more noise.