Embarrassingly enough, its not the erotic sight of Wing writhing atop his spike that gets Ambulon in the end. No, its the gentle press of lips against his cheek and the swipe of a tongue against his lips.

He isn’t sure that he’s ever interfaced like this before… With so much care and mutual respect. It’s such a novelty for him.

Biting his lip, Ambulon gives one last buck into the tightness of Wing’s valve. His optics flare brightly as a powerful overload consumes him; searing more delicate circuits. a static-laced, strained moan of pleasure tears itself from his throat as his hands erratically adjust their grip on Wing’s plating.

Slowly, he begins to come down, slumping strutlessly into a puddle of their mixed fluids.