Mayday nods in agreement, not trusting his vocalizer to make actual words at the moment. His ventilation gradually ramps higher the further up his scrawny thighs Wing goes.

He lets out a soft high-pitched squeal as Wing's lips touch his valve and then he sucks- his thighs try to clamp tight around Wing's helm as he arches sharply, crying out at the hard, hot throb from his node. His hands clutch tighter against his face guard as he squirms.