The sight and feeling of the hot, slick valve clenching around his fingers has First Aid's venting in a quick, swallow rhythm. The lubricant spills over his hand, dripping from his wrist in thick globs, and for a moment he indulges in the fantasy of it being his spike instead buried in and stretching the walls of the mech's cunt. It gives a jump against Tarn's leg, the tip dripping a glob of fluid that he smears with a thrust.

"You want it, don't you? Are you close?"

He presses his thumb firmly against the stiff node, slowing to a grind, then switches the rubbing to his other hand to free his thumb. First Aid twists his wrist, circling the stretched rim with his one remaining free finger, then curls it, wiggling in and inside. His whole hand presses up into Tarn, curled together to ease the slide, but as his fingers brush the end of the mech's channel he spreads them open, straining against the calipers.

"Five fingers," he purrs, a huge grin spread across his lips. He rubs harder at Tarn's node, then thrusts his fingers up against the ceiling of the valve. "That's how many I have in you."