"Mmmm, well, I think so," Wing says, nibbling his lower lip as his own hand snakes down again, still slick with Mayday's fluids, to wrap around himself. He shudders, his whole body rattling against the berth as he swallows a desperate little sound.

"Please--is this all right? You don't have to, mmm, to do anything but relax there, but I need--" Wing's vocalizer shorts and he arches in place a little, his optics flickering. "I can't think like this, I just need to--"