It's payback, he's sure of it, because he's the one laid out now, helpless and gasping while Taylor moves against him. Wash grips his hips still, more to have something to keep him grounded than from any ability to guide Taylor's motions. His fingers tense and squeeze in time with his movements, loosening when he rises up only to grip hard when he sinks back down onto Wash's cock. He opens his eyes a crack, watches with rapture as York rides him, feels like he can see every slick trail of sweat, every corded muscle and tendon and it's so perfect.