[There's a slight clanking as one of Tav's robotic legs drags across the floor, bracing himself best he can to give the both of them leverage. It's all he can do to keep his horns from gnashing against the floor at the stimulation to the tip of the tentacle, a powerful groan finding its way out of his throat. One of his hands has fisted into his own mohawk; the other has a vice-like grip on Dave's side.]
no subject
nNNH—
i, uHHH,
tHINK THAT SOON i MIGHT, aHH—!