No, nothing, save the spitslick still shining on his cock when York pulls off, but the feeling is there. That trembling wave that comes after, when everything feels like a little too much. York's whine is what drags some semblance of his senses back to him, and his eyes open.

When had they closed? At some point he'd simply laid back and let it wash over him, but now? Now he reaches to draw York up to lie alongside him, to press close and let the sensation pool over them both.

He's more than earned it.