Um, okay. Dualscar isn't quite sure how he feels about that. A completely limp, unresisting lowblood on his lap is a little too much like the troll he used to be, and he doesn't know that he likes it.

But he does like the warmth over his gills, and he gasps a little when the light sinks into them, making a pleased, rumbling whale sound deep in his chest. Shyly, he strokes his hands down Psiioniic's back and lets them hover just over his ass.

"Is this okay?" he whispers. See, he's asking permission! Progress!