Is it really? He Ming keeps insisting it's fine and...and he does seem to be, crooning like he's in heaven. And it does feel pleasurable for Cehd'ra too, especially when those tentacles finally change their grip and lift him. The egg shifts, dropping lower, and that weight rests squarely on his prostate making the miqo'te choke out a cry until he's coming again. His arms find He Ming, pulling them together with what strength he can manage as the tentacles continue to wind around them both.

"S'just so much," he gasps, hiding in the crook of He Ming's neck. Their bellies brush against each one another's, the sensation alien enough it makes Cehd'ra jump and his tail twitch. Yet slowly he makes himself settle, having less choice as the creature now seems content to hold the pair of them as they hold onto each other. How long will it keep them like this? How long until the eggs...Cehd'ra doesn't want to think about it. Getting them in was harrowing enough. He can't really think about it either, his thoughts keep shorting out as that full feeling He Ming learned to embrace from the start is getting to the miqo'te as well.

It is good, as He Ming says, like he's going to come over and over...like he is with the constant stimulation, nerves firing again and again in constant waves of heat intense enough he's shivering with each wane. "'Tired..."