Uncertain if he has to- if that connection is still wide open or not- York focuses enough to let that thrumming, boneless contentment seep across their bond. He's...happy, here. Like this. He's comfortable and feels safe, settled.

That itch to be touched has been scratched thoroughly.

Tucked up like this? Wrapped around Locus? He's satisfied. Even that thirst that haunts them both doesn't feel so omnipresent.