Cyclonus lets out a staticky noise somewhere between a snarl and a moan as Wing topples from his perch. His hands move to Wing's, ready to grapple them into submission, his legs squirming as he tries to wrap them around Wing's hips.

The friction against his cord makes him shudder, but his port aches and he shifts, trying to rub wet mesh against Wing's spike.

Despite all his struggles, he's smirking.