Tarns optic flare brightly as Sixshot slams his length into him. A sharp wail of pleasure escapes him as his fingers scramble and smudge over his chest. The stretch of the Phase Sixer's spike is exquisite; edging on pain. Without even a moment to adjust before setting into a brutal pace, Tarn finds himself in a formidable and mind-blowing undertow of pain and pleasure.

He loves every moment of it, squirming and clinging to the colossal canine frame above him. The clamp of teeth on his neck only adds to his blinding euphoria, edging dangerously close to his prized vocalizer.

Tarn's pawing quickly turns into vicious groping. The tips of his fingers, sliding into seams and yanking on sensitive wires; his hips trying to snap up to meet Sixshot's ferocious thrusts.