His eyes slit open partway, though he's not looking at York. He stares instead into the mass of starlit sky overhead, through the swirling haze in his head, and his tongue darts over his lips as he feels York grind back against him.

It's good. It feels so good, even if this is the wrong place, the wrong time. It hardly seems to matter with York there and close and moving against him, pulling on his blood like a leash tightening.

"Taylor--"