And it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter that the third goes to Mal because this? The sharp sting of adrenaline rolling through his veins, the fact that he just pinned him down at all on their first go at this- the fact he can feel Malcolm's pulse synced right up along with his?

York knows what this means. Knows it and embraces it with a wild crackle of laughter as he lets go of his staff and leans down enough to press his lips to Malcolm's.