Author's note: Yes, I'm going to hell for this. But at least I'm going to hell a happy man.
Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon. Don't sue me.
Armadimon wasn't sure how he'd gotten in this situation. Stuck on his back between a few well-placed rock. One thing was certain, tough: Gomamon had been planning this for a while, because he was far too well-prepared for him not to. And Armadimon wasn't sure what an "Armada split" was supposed to be, but as long as it involved him being fed whipped cream, he didn't care too much. He did not even notice when Gomamon began to smear the cream across his face, then across his whole underside.
"Yum! Hey, Gomamon... What are you doing!? My mouth's this way!" he began to protest at the prospect of all that wasted (understand: not eaten by him) cream.
"Who said I was interested in your mouth?"
He added a generous amount of cream right atop the armadillo's sheath opening. Armadimon blushed a bright red at this.
"But that's going to be a mess to clean!" he objected.
"That, Shellboy, is exactly why I'm there!" Gomamon retorted
Armadimon could feel a tongue licking the cream off and his blush reached the very tip of his ears. A fraction of a second later, Gomamon's face reappeared in his field of vision when the seal climbed up on him, smearing the icing across Armadimon's chest and belly.
"What happened? Seal got your tongue?" he asked mischievously right before spraying more cream on Armadimon's muzzle.
The upturned digimon's mouth opened so he could lick his face clean. Gomamon grabbed at the muzzle and brought his own down to steal the dairy product right off Armadimon's tongue, exploring inside the mouth to take as much as possible, and sucking on the tongue on his way out.
"Stop keeping the best for yourself!" he teased.
"Shut up and kiss me again," came Armadimon's answer.