Tarn arches into Sixshot's tongue as it travels up his belly, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His fingers hook desperately into the Phase Sixer's plating, trying to pull him closer.

He barely even registers that Sixshot has said anything. When he does, all he can really manage is a short nod. Tarn opens his mouth to try to ask how long the effects will last. Instead, another low moan escapes him as his burning interface array snaps open.

He bucks under the wolf, grinding his dripping valve against any bits of armor that he can reach.