Being rotated backwards sends another wave of disorientation through his body. He Ming feels dizzy for a few seconds, and he swallows hard while trying to keep his head from spinning. The slick wet press of more tentacles creeping under his clothing doesn't really help. And Cehd'ra isn't replying, and he worries even as he gasps on his next breath. The tentacle down the back of his pants is going—

"Ah!" That's not very nice, nor appropriate. He Ming tries again to wriggle free, and the whole thing is so ridiculous and ticklish he can't help but laugh breathlessly. "Oh, don't—Cehd'ra, I don't—ohh, I don't think it's trying to hurt me."

He couldn't say the same for Cehd'ra, since he can't see him, but if the exploratory and firm contact between his legs is any indication, this creature has more carnal things in mind than violent. When he finally manages to turn enough to catch sight of him he sees the tentacles finding their way under Cehd'ra's clothes as well. As He Ming looks, the one causing him to gag only stays where it is for a moment longer before withdrawing. His pants leg appears to bulge oddly from the other appendage tunneling upwards, writhing against his calf and then his thigh and groin. There the slender tapered tip of the tentacle curls around what the creature appears to recognize as more vital, possibly delicate organs, the wet mucus starting to soak through his underwear and his pants at the same time.