"It's so bi—big, mmmmfuck." He Ming tries not to curse most of the time, but sometimes it just slips out. He thinks that when the weight of the egg is so big he can feel his stomach distending, he's allowed to swear. And allowed to bite Cehd'ra a little more, straight, blunt teeth just pinching skin. He rolls his hips into air before releasing Cehd'ra again at that yowl.

The creature is struggling to get the egg into him. It must be practiced, because it changes angle multiple times until finding one that works. When its continued contractions finally push the tapered end of the egg into Cehd'ra's ass, it seems to almost perk up. A few more hard squeezes of the ovipositor, and the egg is forced into him completely. Other appendages hold his hips and thighs in place.

He Ming has mostly collapsed onto his front by this point, panting and beginning to whine as the slick contact of tentacles on his shaft increases. No longer deprived of physical contact, He Ming works his hips again, thrusting into the grip. A rapid and low-intensity climax rushes over him, through him, and he spends himself all over the tentacles and the floor.

"Cehd'ra," he chokes out. "I'm so full."