The next thrust of York's hips is harder, rubs against just the right places inside to make him pant harshly and squirm against him. It's been too long since he was this close to someone. York's breath is hot against his shoulder, his skin slick with sweat where Wash is wrapped around him. It's real, more real than he thought was possible, like everything else since the Project has just been a bad movie and finally he can stop.