Ambulon is not quiet. He thrashes under Wing's ministrations sobbing with pleasure. His cooling fans roar loudly, nearly muffling his sharp cries. The entirety of the world seems to fade away leaving nothing but the feeling finger’s filling him and the slickness of that hot tongue traveling to the most sensitive points of his interface array. Ambulon’s valve clenches eagerly trying to pull those digits back every time they slide out.

Even without the hungry moans and lustful stares, Ambulon can feel his need. The scent of charge and ozone bleed off of his thrumming frame in waves. His voice crackles with static as he tries to piece together a thought.

“I have an idea…” He relaxes back the best he can, “If you straddle my face I can— I can return the favor."