"Tarn," Sixshot starts, but the gentle touches over his neck ease some of the wolf mech's worries and he lets the words trail off. Slowly, he eases down to lie on top of Tarn, folding his legs to keep most of his weight off of his partner.

The movements shifts the knot against the overstretched walls of Tarn's valve despite his best efforts and he shudders quietly. The body beneath him was warm and the loose press of purple thighs against his flanks draws a low rumble from the Sixer as he leans down to gently lick at the bloodied marks his teeth had left on Tarn's shoulder.