Wing catches the look on Cyclonus' face and something taut in him eases before he starts to fight back in earnest. His hands slide from Cyclonus' grip and he leans into the other mech's hold rather than away, letting Cyclonus try to roll them again. They go over twice before slips from under Cyclonus' grasp like water, leaving him face-down with nothing between him and the floor. Wing darts back in immediately to brace one of his arms against the backs of Cyclonus' shoulders, curling one hand around a horn to hold him firm as his other elbow hooks under one of Cyclonus' knees and drags it up. Wing pushes down with his hips, pinning Cyclonus with his weight and letting his spike slide against the wet heat between Cyclonus' legs as he keeps him spread wide open and still, venting hard, his cooling fans screaming. He leans in to brush his lips under Cyclonus' audial, his voice low and silky and thrumming with need.

"Do you yield?"