Like a string being cut, that tension drops him. Instead of being tight and taut, jaw clenched, he lets himself unravel. Lips part in short, breathy noises as York curls and flicks his tongue, and if he doesn't fight it? If he just lets it sink into everything else, into the blossoming heat flooding every inch of his skin, then he can ride through this without it being too much.

And then, finally, it feels like something's helping to guide those sensations through, rifling through the back of his bind and pulling away what he doesn't need, what does push towards overstimulation.