Wing moans back, thick and low and shivering, his optics flaring he as Cyclonus stretches out under him, arching his back, feeling that low growl reverberate against his chassis.

He laughs, staticky and breathless, baring his own teeth. "Ask nicely," he says, his flight engines thrumming hard enough to make his voice almost a purr, but he thrusts faster anyway, tightening his grip and scraping his teeth against Cyclonus' shoulder.