Slowly, Spinister pulls back until just the tip of Brainstorm cord was pressed into his intake and he takes a moment to rub the smooth head against his mask, enjoying the slick texture.

"Mmmm," he cycles a low sigh, watching Brainstorm buck onto his fingers, shifting his grip from the flier's aft up to his waist. The sight sends a hot pulse up his own spike, hips twitching in sympathetic pleasure.

"Come on, Brainstorm," he rumbles, dipping his helm back down. "Cum for me. I wanna hear you scream."

Spinister swallows the inventor's cord deep in one smooth motion, moaning as it hits the back of his intake. He tightens his hand around his friend's waist to hold him in place as he start driving his fingers into the jet's valve, harder and harder in fierce, unrelenting thrusts, lube splattering onto the wet floor in thick globs.