If this was all he could have, he could honestly be content with making out like teenagers all night. If they had all the time in the world, he probably would. It's difficult to think when Taylor is kissing him like that, driving thought out of his head with every movement, every press of his hips.

He catches York's face between his hands, holding him still for a moment just to give himself time to breath. And to kiss him again, taste his skin, explore the angle of his jaw. "How am I supposed to think when you're driving me crazy, Taylor?" He kisses him again, lets it linger. "I want... god, everything. But... you want to fuck me? That... I want that."