Wing makes a low, lazy sound and strokes Mayday through his overload, nuzzling and licking and nibbling along Mayday's neck and shoulder. He resists the urge to push his hips in against Mayday's, shuddering against the berth, but he leans back away from Mayday again and settles, his fingers tracing slick along his spike before drawing away.

"Gorgeous," he sighs, watching Mayday's face, his own expression open and fond.