Wing makes a taut sound as he hears Cyclonus scream, but then Cyclonus is overloading and Wing can't help but follow, driving deep and releasing Cyclonus' arm to curl a hand under him and stroke gently through those last helpless spasms of pleasure, letting it shake them both until they're limp and trembling and sated.

Wing eases back carefully, rocking into his heels before he tugs Cyclonus out of the mess he made on the floor and onto his side, curling up next to him and watching his face with soft, intent optics. He reaches out and traces a fingertip lightly over Cyclonus' cheekbone, and his voice is soft and a little rough with static when he finally speaks.

"All right?" he asks, then slips his hand down to smooth his thumb over the collar of Cyclonus' armor. "A little better, at least?"