"...which part of that did you know?" York laughs softly, loosening his hold on Ratchet as he relaxes further. Seems like he has nothing to worry about.
"That you only have so much control," Ratchet says frankly, though his voice is warm. "Just like anybody would in your position. And that you wouldn't argue with me if I told you I couldn't do this anymore for whatever reason."
"No, I wouldn't argue. It'd be rough, though." He's come to rely on Ratchet's presence, more than he wants to admit to himself. "I'd still want you to tell me if something changed."
"I would," Ratchet says, turning over his next words in his head, trying to work out the best way to say them.
"That means something to me. That you'd want that. Not that I think you wouldn't care, but... I know it's hard to consider that kind of thing when you're injured or frightened or in pain. The fact that you do means something."
"Of course I'd consider it -- I'm already asking a lot." Technically Ratchet's offering, and he's the one who established the initial level of contact, but. York's the one who needs it to continue. He turns his head, then, sighing against Ratchet's neck. "It's winding down."
"You say that, but not everyone does, or can, and I wouldn't begrudge you either way." The heat of York's breath on his neck pulls an odd prickling feeling down his spine that he realizes is a shiver but he doesn't react otherwise, just settling a brief hand at York's nape.
"Good," he says, and he sounds like he means it. "We don't have to head back right away, though. Up to you, but I'm not in a rush."
York feels Ratchet shiver just as he did, and as the other man touches his neck he wonders. "Nah, I don't want to go back yet," he says softly, thinking that he'd rather be alone a little longer, and maybe... it's a long shot, and he's not even sure it could be a good idea.
Ratchet makes a low sound in his throat and settles York against him a little more comfortably, relaxed and warm. "Sounds good to me," he sighs, apparently content to just curl up here, half-under York's weight.
It's comfortable enough that York doesn't really want to move again, but it's nothing to skim a touch down Ratchet's arm to cover his friend's hand where it still rests on his chest, spreading his fingers to slip between Ratchet's. He's not holding on now, he's just... holding.
Ratchet's still relaxed, but there's something in York's voice that makes him focus his attention, watching York's fingers slide against his before he turns to look at York's face.
There's a moment of hesitation before York decides to just go for it, turning in Ratchet's arms and tilting his head, catching his friend's mouth in what he'd consider an extremely chaste kiss.
Ratchet's whole body goes tense in surprise when York twists against him and leans in, inhaling sharply as his eyes widen, but after he gets over his initial shock he realizes it's... nice. York's mouth is soft and warm against his, and after a few seconds he relaxes into it, his grip on York tightening just a little bit as he hesitantly kisses back.
That's basically the best outcome he could have asked for. York smiles into the kiss for a moment before going in for another that's slightly less chaste, brushing his tongue against Ratchet's bottom lip. The hand on Ratchet's thigh tightens a bit as he uses it for balance.
Ratchet shivers all over again as he feels the slick heat of York's tongue against his lower lip, his grip on Ratchet's thigh. Ratchet feels a low sound wring from his throat as he kisses York back for a few more moments before he pulls away, just a little, breathing hard.
There's no reason for him to be short of breath, he hasn't even gone anywhere, but he can feel his heart thudding against his ribcage, weirdly hypersensitive all over. He reaches up with both hands to slide them against York's cheeks, one thumb dragging gently over York's lower lip before he pulls York in to kiss him again, still surprised by the heat and softness of it.
The sound is telling enough but any lingering worries York may have had vanish when Ratchet reaches up and touches his face, pulling him back in for more kissing. York shifts again, turning further on the couch so that he's facing Ratchet properly and can press closer. One hand winds up flat on Ratchet's chest and the other molded to his jaw, feeling his heart beat and the roughness of his facial hair. That's something different -- York keeps his shaved, so did North. He finds he doesn't mind it.
There's something just a little awkward about the kiss, even as eager as they both seem to be, but York can't put his finger on it. It's good -- fuck is it good -- just a little strange, like they're not quite in sync. Maybe it's just been a long time for both of them. He hasn't been with anyone since Freelancer, and learning what someone new likes is always a process. When they pull apart again to breathe he's flushed and smiling, and his voice is rough when he speaks. "I should have done that sooner."
Ratchet feels York's fingers against the pulse beating hard in his throat and tips his head back as he pulls air into his lungs, his throat arched and vulnerable under York's touch as he drags his eyes open, looking thoroughly overwhelmed. His cheeks are hot, his too-intense blue eyes flicking up to York's face after a moment and lighting when he sees York's smile.
"Yeah?" His hands slide down over York's shoulders then back up, looking fascinated as one hand settles against York's neck, his thumb brushing his pulse, and the other threads carefully into York's hair to stroke. He still looks pretty dazed. "You wanted to, before?"
"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.
Ratchet arches a little into York's hands, his back bowing helplessly before he freezes, looking caught.
He opens his mouth to lie and stops, watching York's face and thinking about how he'd looked leaning into Ratchet's hand in his hair, how he'd looked with his hand on Ratchet's shoulder, shaking him a wake with sharp, too-tightly controlled movements. York trusts him and has never asked him a single personal question for which he insisted an answer and now Ratchet's lips are tingling and his face is flushed and his heart is pounding and he owes York better than a lie. He looks away, embarrassed and unsure where to begin, his teeth digging briefly into his lower lip as he struggles to collect his thoughts with York still so close.
He's so sensitive, York just wants to keep touching and see if he can pull another sound from Ratchet's throat, make his breath catch and his eyes flutter closed.
But then Ratchet freezes, looking away and biting his lip and York wonders what it is he said wrong. Too personal? They just had their tongues in each other's mouths, he didn't think his question was a bigger deal than that. "It's been awhile for me too," he encourages, stroking a hand back up to Ratchet's shoulder. "I was just curious."
"No--aah," Ratchet says, shivering under York's palm before he shakes his head a little and wrests control of himself.
"York. No. That's not--that's not why I hesitated. Come here." He wraps a hand around York's wrist to keep his hand from going anywhere else before he tugs a little, reaching out to drag York down against him, all of York's warm, solid weight pressing him down into the couch. He just breathes for a moment, tucking his head against York's shoulder so the lower half of his face isn't visible and murmuring low into York's ear.
"Look, the answer is never. Not like this. I'm--" He sighs, wishing he could see York's face but not wanting to risk being overheard. "I'm not... human. Or I wasn't before I got here. I think whatever brought us here changed me the same way it did some of the others, but I didn't want the Cetagandans to know." He loosens his grip a little so York can pull back if he wants, his whole body tense again now, the corners of his mouth crimped.
"I'm sorry. I wanted to say something but--" He gestures helplessly. "It's not that I didn't trust you to know, I just didn't have a good way to tell you."
York lets Ratchet still his hands and pull him down, a bit worried again at how serious Ratchet got all of a sudden. But then it makes sense. All the dodgy answers, the avoidance, the way he didn't know how to exercise or fight. He should have guessed it was something like that. When Ratchet's hold on him loosens he pulls back just enough to see the other man's expression, trying to get a read on him.
"...it's okay. I won't tell them," he promises, locking their gazes, his voice soft and low. "What were--" No, that might be asking too much. York bites back the question, shakes his head. "Nevermind. So this body is completely new, huh?"
Ratchet watches York right back for a moment before he shakes his head.
"I know you won't. That never worried me. I just--" He stops and chuffs out a soft, pained laugh, reaching up to rub a hand weakly over his face before he slumps back against the couch again. "I genuinely have no idea if you'd believe me if I told you. But... yeah. Pretty much totally unfamiliar."
Ratchet shakes his head a little, looking a generous mix of guilty and exhausted. "It's... honestly it actually is a really, really long story. I'll tell you if you want, just. Not right now. Though--"
One if his hands is still resting against York's side and he lifts it carefully, hesitating, making sure he's not holding York down at all.
"If you've, y'know, changed your mind about... this. Well. I wouldn't blame you, obviously."
"...I haven't. Why would I?" He reaches back and catches Ratchet's hand, setting it on his waist firmly. He's not going anywhere. "It explains a lot about your reactions, that's all. Doesn't make them any less hot."
And then a thought, about how overwhelmed Ratchet looked when the kiss broke. Maybe it was too much for him to adjust to? "If you didn't like it or I need to slow down, just tell me."
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"That means something to me. That you'd want that. Not that I think you wouldn't care, but... I know it's hard to consider that kind of thing when you're injured or frightened or in pain. The fact that you do means something."
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"Good," he says, and he sounds like he means it. "We don't have to head back right away, though. Up to you, but I'm not in a rush."
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"...Ratchet."
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"Yeah?"
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There's no reason for him to be short of breath, he hasn't even gone anywhere, but he can feel his heart thudding against his ribcage, weirdly hypersensitive all over. He reaches up with both hands to slide them against York's cheeks, one thumb dragging gently over York's lower lip before he pulls York in to kiss him again, still surprised by the heat and softness of it.
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There's something just a little awkward about the kiss, even as eager as they both seem to be, but York can't put his finger on it. It's good -- fuck is it good -- just a little strange, like they're not quite in sync. Maybe it's just been a long time for both of them. He hasn't been with anyone since Freelancer, and learning what someone new likes is always a process. When they pull apart again to breathe he's flushed and smiling, and his voice is rough when he speaks. "I should have done that sooner."
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"Yeah?" His hands slide down over York's shoulders then back up, looking fascinated as one hand settles against York's neck, his thumb brushing his pulse, and the other threads carefully into York's hair to stroke. He still looks pretty dazed. "You wanted to, before?"
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"When was the last time you were with someone?" he asks curiously, no judgment in his voice.
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He opens his mouth to lie and stops, watching York's face and thinking about how he'd looked leaning into Ratchet's hand in his hair, how he'd looked with his hand on Ratchet's shoulder, shaking him a wake with sharp, too-tightly controlled movements. York trusts him and has never asked him a single personal question for which he insisted an answer and now Ratchet's lips are tingling and his face is flushed and his heart is pounding and he owes York better than a lie. He looks away, embarrassed and unsure where to begin, his teeth digging briefly into his lower lip as he struggles to collect his thoughts with York still so close.
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But then Ratchet freezes, looking away and biting his lip and York wonders what it is he said wrong. Too personal? They just had their tongues in each other's mouths, he didn't think his question was a bigger deal than that. "It's been awhile for me too," he encourages, stroking a hand back up to Ratchet's shoulder. "I was just curious."
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"York. No. That's not--that's not why I hesitated. Come here." He wraps a hand around York's wrist to keep his hand from going anywhere else before he tugs a little, reaching out to drag York down against him, all of York's warm, solid weight pressing him down into the couch. He just breathes for a moment, tucking his head against York's shoulder so the lower half of his face isn't visible and murmuring low into York's ear.
"Look, the answer is never. Not like this. I'm--" He sighs, wishing he could see York's face but not wanting to risk being overheard. "I'm not... human. Or I wasn't before I got here. I think whatever brought us here changed me the same way it did some of the others, but I didn't want the Cetagandans to know." He loosens his grip a little so York can pull back if he wants, his whole body tense again now, the corners of his mouth crimped.
"I'm sorry. I wanted to say something but--" He gestures helplessly. "It's not that I didn't trust you to know, I just didn't have a good way to tell you."
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"...it's okay. I won't tell them," he promises, locking their gazes, his voice soft and low. "What were--" No, that might be asking too much. York bites back the question, shakes his head. "Nevermind. So this body is completely new, huh?"
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"I know you won't. That never worried me. I just--" He stops and chuffs out a soft, pained laugh, reaching up to rub a hand weakly over his face before he slumps back against the couch again. "I genuinely have no idea if you'd believe me if I told you. But... yeah. Pretty much totally unfamiliar."
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One if his hands is still resting against York's side and he lifts it carefully, hesitating, making sure he's not holding York down at all.
"If you've, y'know, changed your mind about... this. Well. I wouldn't blame you, obviously."
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And then a thought, about how overwhelmed Ratchet looked when the kiss broke. Maybe it was too much for him to adjust to? "If you didn't like it or I need to slow down, just tell me."
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