And Locus returns the kiss wholly, mouth crushing against his, all warmth and weight and the slow slide of tongue, before he draws back, lids heavy. "This isn't a variable. It's a constant. And it will be as long as I can make it so."

Maybe that will suffice. He remembers Delta telling him of York's fear, his insecurity, and maybe by putting it in those terms? It would be close enough to what they can never quite bring themselves to say.