"Mm, a little." He Ming's mind, at least, hears its voice. The tentacles curled around him hold him in place, firm and slick and wonderfully strange. The pleasure washes over him in waves. When Cehd'ra's fingers reach him, the warmth actually makes He Ming shiver, it's such a contrast to the cool wetness of the creature's touch.

"It's pretty big." The additional slick is enough to get him open, relaxed, and let it fill him with more and more girth. Licking his lips and looking down, He Ming is finally able to get a better look at Cehd'ra as the creature begins to penetrate him as well. "I can see it fucking you. That's—hot."

He's really never had a filter, and now is no exception. He Ming lets out a deep, breathless moan, the only thing that keeps him from talking, and watches the tentacle inside of Cehd'ra pulse and rotate left and right, the tip inside him curling and rubbing against his inner passage.