"It seems like flattery will get me exactly where I'd like to go," Wing says, his optics lighting teasingly as he slides his fingertips, then his palm over Cyclonus' thigh. He heaves himself up and pushes those thighs apart gently, nudging Cyclonus onto his back and leaning down to lick delicately at the slick fluid staining the juncture of Cyclonus' hip. He makes a hungry, needy little noise and tilts his head to close his mouth against Cyclonus' port, moaning against Cyclonus as he tastes himself, his thighs pressing together as he squirms slightly.