“Mmm, good boy,” Bluestreak praised, twisting the length of the leash around his hand and pulling Jazz tighter against his array.
Jazz moaned, the vibrations buzzing against Bluestreak’s rim. He pushed his glossa deeper, his denta scraping over Bluestreak’s anterior node.
Bluestreak shivered, his thighs tightening around his pet’s helm. “Keep this up and you might earn that overload, pet,” he murmured. One hand smoothed over the top of Jazz’s helm, his thumb playing with a sensory horn.
Jazz’s face was coated in lubricant, his visor smeared with it. Yet, that didn’t stop him from servicing Bluestreak’s valve, his glossa pushing deep, his lips nudging Bluestreak’s exterior nodes.
Jazz said nothing. He knew better to speak without being invited, but another hum of pleasure rose in his intake as he buried his face against Bluestreak’s array again. His field rose in the air, thick with rapture.
“Very good,” Bluestreak murmured, stroking Jazz’s helm again. “Now the main node, pet. I want to feel your denta.”
Jazz shuddered, his armor twitching, before lips and mouth descended on Bluestreak’s nub and started to suck.
Bluestreak’s back arched. His thighs trembled. Bluestreak grinned and leaned back, soaking up the sensation. There was nothing quite like an extended service session.
He shifted his leg, the back of his foot pressing against Jazz’s backstrut, pinning his pet in place. Jazz shuddered, his field lashing with need.
Yep. Nothing like it at all.