"It's a normal amount for my size," Spinister says serenely, relighting his eyes and watching their combined fluids run thick rivulets down Brainstorm's stained thighs as he gently helps his friend ease off, hands on the jet's waist.

It was almost tempting to pull Brainstorm back down and do it all over again. Properly this time instead of hopped up on some kind of ridiculous aphrodisiac. With all the paint streaks to clean up and the canisters to prepare though, he didn't really have a lot of time left before Tarn would start missing him.

Instead, Spinister is left to hungrily watch the smaller flier stop with the head of his spike still buried inside him. Venting slowly, Spin squeezes Brainstorm's waist.

"I'll bring you some replacement explodey plants," he sighs, leaning in to nuzzle at the base of Brainstorm's wings.