Waist to ribs, feeling the slow thud of Locus' pulse, nails again on his scalp from crown to nape and there's the familiar buzz of an AI implant. Strange how this one is set up, stranger still how it seems to warm under his fingers-

Delta bypasses it and resumes smoothing his hand back up into Locus' hair. Felix isn't involved in this. Just them.

A quiet prompting from York has his hand slipping down to Locus' hip, squeezing as his head falls back. Teeth should hurt but it's so light a scrape it only brings his nerves to crackling awareness in time for Locus' tongue. "Ah-"

Good. It. It's good.