Ratchet makes a dissatisfied little sound as York draws back, the sudden loss of heat making him shiver. He sucks air into his lungs as York's hands smooth over his chest and belly, mouth following, and Ratchet bites his lower lip again and closes a hand on York's shoulder to squeeze as the other settles softly against York's hair, just stroking there steadily. His eyes widen as York's lips brush the apparently very sensitive skin just above his waistband and he bites hard at his lip again to keep from making any more noise.
His hand slides down, avoiding York's scar but stroking carefully along his cheek, feeling his chest rising and falling as he gasps for breath and looks down at York's face, his heart pounding.
York reaches up and tugs Ratchet's lip free of his teeth again, a soft smile curving his mouth. He needs to stop doing that, attractive as it is. "You're gonna bite straight through it when I do this."
And then his hand is back in front of him, curling into Ratchet's waistband and tugging gently. Giving the other man plenty of time to change his mind.
"Oh," Ratchet says. "What--" But he lifts his hips up obligingly to let York slide the fabric down over his hips, his face bright red and looking a little dazed again. He lets go of York and fists his hands in the sofa cushions instead, trying to slow his breathing and unable to take his eyes off York's face.
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His hand slides down, avoiding York's scar but stroking carefully along his cheek, feeling his chest rising and falling as he gasps for breath and looks down at York's face, his heart pounding.
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And then his hand is back in front of him, curling into Ratchet's waistband and tugging gently. Giving the other man plenty of time to change his mind.
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