drear | 'cause my wheels never touch the road

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..."

Like a constantly adjusting piece of furniture, the creature's tentacles shift around, finally letting He Ming's arms go. Without the support he nearly falls into Cehd'ra. After a second of whimpering He Ming succeeds in propping himself up on his elbows so he isn't putting more weight on Cehd'ra's swollen belly nor his own.

"I know," He Ming murmurs, turning to kiss the crown of his head. "It's a lot. But..."

He can do this. The creature just wants to have a baby, and He Ming and Cehd'ra could make it so happy. Inhaling and exhaling carefully to steady his breathing, He Ming gathers himself to move again and curl up with an arm over his stomach next to Cehd'ra.

"It'll be good," he finally continues in a dreamy whisper. The creature nudges his thoughts towards the pleasure, only the wonderful, overwhelming feelings of pressure inside him and the slick appendage starting to tease his ass and cock again. "Here, Cehd'ra..." Taking advantage of his hands being released, He Ming cups his cheek so he can turn Cehd'ra to face him for a soft, sweet kiss.

He Ming's drop has Cehd'ra immediately regretting tugging on him to begin with, the miqo'te making a deeply unhappy sound at the added weight before the other moves off, helped just as much by the tentacles until they are laid out side by side. It's still not idea but it's the most comfortable he's been so far, cradled in a soft, wet grip that curls around his shoulders and thighs. He Ming's warm presence is the greater comfort, even after nearly squishing him, Cehd'ra turning into his touch and mumbling something unclear against He Ming's lips. A kiss? Just a kiss is kind of nice right now...

It's easier on his side. The weight less severe and Cehd'ra dares to think he might be able to rest. Unfortunately the creature's idea of rest still involves idle groping, a tentacle sliding between his cheeks, rubbing at his tender hole and finding his tail. The tip curls around the base of it curiously, another tentacle sweeping over He Ming's hips and--no, this is definitely different and something the creature missed when it had Cehd'ra pinned to the floor.

"Hn, aah!" Cehd'ra grasps at He Ming's hands, clinging and squirming as the creature finds a new means of stimulating.

Settling down, He Ming's shuddering slows and finally stops. Regardless of how dangerous or strange this situation is, it's Cehd'ra. He feels good.

Cehd'ra, meanwhile, appears to be struggling. Managing to open his eyes, He Ming looks at him with some surprise to see his overwhelmed reaction. Unable to move well with the weight in his stomach, he settles for trying to crane his neck and trying to reassuringly stroke the back of Cehd'ra's hands.

"What's wrong?" he whispers. He sucks in a quick breath when the creature flicks its tentacle at his asshole, trying not to get distracted. "Are you okay?"

It doesn't seem so, but He Ming can't see what's going on. He doesn't see the creature wind one appendage around his tail. Coiling carefully around it, the tentacle strokes the fur with wet, sinuous movements.

Further from the base the feeling isn't as strong, but it's still sensation when all Cehd'ra wants is rest. Curled around it and stroking, the movement enough to gently pull...his tail twitches in the creature's grip, wanting to flick and swing but only held and explored at its leisure just like everything else.

The question gets a startled laugh out of Cehd'ra even as he curls closer. No, no he's not really okay, but admitting as much feels wrong. He Ming is fine in spite of everything, Cehd'ra wants to follow that example...he only wishes it were easier. "S'got my tail..."

The explanation is mumbled against He Ming's knuckles, Cehd'ra inching himself closer to the only normal thing left. If he can just rest, even sleep, maybe he will wake up and it will all have been a dream? It would offer some escape if nothing else, but the creature seems to have no intention of leaving its incubators be just yet. Tentacles stroke and smooth over the both of them, teasing whenever it passes over a hole or cock or nipple, almost treasuring.

"Oh, your tail." He Ming tries to look, trying to help Cehd'ra in whatever way he can, but a soft press of the tentacle through his already-abused entrance has him freezing in place.

"Does it hurt?" he manages to ask a moment later. Extending his fingers, he strokes Cehd'ra's jaw, attempting to soothe him. "I think... I think it'll be over soon."

This time He Ming doesn't have any basis for what he's saying. But he's sure it'll end, right? An egg has to develop and then hatch. Forcing himself forward, He Ming kisses Cehd'ra again, moaning against his lips as the tentacle circles around his rim again. The appendage toying with Cehd'ra's tail, dissatisfied by his lessened reactions, returns to the base of it to rub right beneath the spot it connects to his body.

It can take weeks for eggs, as Cehd'ra knows them, to hatch, and larger animals can mean even longer waits. Something this tentacled monster's size and as big as the eggs are? The miqo'te fears it could take months. Yet He Ming wants to say it will end soon and Cehd'ra wants to believe him, even as the rational parts of him still left standing say it's impossible. He shakes his head at the question even as he accepts He Ming's comforting touch, cradling the hands near his face and pressing fervently into the kiss. He isn't alone in being touched still if the pauses He Ming takes and the twitches in his limbs are any indication; Cehd'ra needs to get a grip on himself and try to return some of the comfort he's being given--

And then the thing presses right where the fur fades to soft skin and Cehd'ra lets out a muffled wail against He Ming's lips.

"Mmmh!" Hips jerk helplessly, unable to escape the persistent rubbing touch as his cock gives a few weary twitches of interest underneath his belly. The air around them is thick with humid warmth and the smell of sex, every touch from his tail to the curled tip pressing at He Ming's perineum, wanting to see if He Ming still has such sounds left in him as well... All of it building, the heat and the hormones, helping the eggs finish their development that much quicker. A fact soon to be apparent when the egg inside of He Ming shifts with a sudden give to it that had not been there before.

Despite Cehd'ra's struggles and squirms, the tentacle chases after him, preventing any escape. The tentacle continues to rub insistently at his skin. Those noises are a good sign in the creature's opinion, and it puts a strong effort into getting more out of Cehd'ra.

"Cehd'ra," He Ming whispers, trying again to ease some of his stress. He kisses his gasping mouth, only to part again with a loud gasp when the pointed tip of the tentacle pries at his rim. He hasn't even had a chance to tighten up again; he's sure he's gaping a little.

The next feeling He Ming notices is far less familiar. He Ming's mouth drops open, body arching forward, because he can feel a strange softening of the large insertion in his body.

For once he's almost at a loss for words. "W-What... Cehd'ra," He Ming whimpers. Squirming, his hands ball into fists. "I don't, mm, it feels so weird." He can't describe it, but fortunately he won't have to. The creature draws a slick trail with its tentacle down the small of Cehd'ra's back, working hard to trigger that same completion of incubation in its second host.

It isn't long before Cehd'ra catches up. Just enough time for He Ming's reaction to sink in, to realize something's happened or rather that something's happening. The miqo'te hiccups, trying to stifle his cries but can only muffle them. The constant teasing of his tail makes it impossible to put more than a couple of thoughts together at one time, but it sounds like He Ming is worried and the instinctive response to that is to reach out and hold him. Cehd'ra winds his arms around He Ming's shoulders, pulling their upper bodies close as the tentacles still have everything below the waist held hostage. He muffles another tired wail against He Ming's neck when the pressure inside him changes.

The unforgiving edge of pressure softens, the mass no smaller but now with a give to it...it's honestly a relief, dialing the intensity further away from painful. Which only left... "Ooh...!"

Weird was one thing to call it, as the egg's shape changed--gods, why was it changing? What was happening to them now?--its weight changed with it, shifting lower...and then higher?

"It...it's moving. He Ming. He Ming it...gods why is it moving?!" Tiny movements really, but from deep inside each little shift feels magnified, more so as the eggs' shells continue to soften and break down.

As long as they're together, He Ming feels a little better. As long as Cehd'ra's with him, he has someone to kiss and touch and embrace as the movement inside of him intensifies.

"Don't cry," he whispers, while he chokes back a whimper of his own. He kisses his cheek and shuts his eyes again as the mass inside of him moves again, changing shape from spherical to something shapeless. "I think it's hatching. That means it'll be over soon, right? Okay?"

With an effort He Ming cranes his neck, moving enough to lick at the corner of Cehd'ra's mouth instead of only kissing his cheek. As their arms are around each other He Ming feels warmer and more grounded. He tastes salt from his sweat, the flavor of his skin fantastically musky on his tongue.

A rush of wet slick leaks out between He Ming's legs as the last of the shell gives. The keen that leaves his mouth makes his throat hurt. "It's going to come out," he gasps. "It's moving because it's alive."

Cehd'ra's tail gets no breaks at all. Even as the eggshell within him disintegrates, leaving a mess of fluid and fist-sized, squirming ball of tentacles in him, the appendages of the parent creature apply firm pressure to the base of his tail in a sinewy coil.

"M'not..." he tries to say, only barely aware he has been until He Ming is the one who notices and says something. Tears won't help but there's nothing Cehd'ra can think of that will help short of holding on and praying. The padding fluid from the egg flows out of him, feeling obscene to the point where Cehd'ra almost tries to hold it in out of embarrassment. But the relief that comes with that falling pressure feels too good to not give in. The miqo'te makes a guttural sound, hips rocking heedlessly, each tug at his tail about as good as a tug on his cock at this point.

And inside the infant creatures stir more and more with life. The 'ball' of tentacles stretching out, probing about the soft walls they find themselves in. Everything's impossibly slick from the egg's 'hatching', it doesn't take any effort at all for the babies to peek a few tentacles out into the open, wiggling about in the relative cooler air...and then promptly withdrawing back to where it's most warm.

"Ha...it...!" Of course all that squirming leaves Cehd'ra squirming too, cock twitching and drooling with each pass over his prostate. The thing's so small it feels downright gentle compared to the parent. Cehd'ra blinks at He Ming as he clings, unable to focus clearly but trying to see if it's doing the same to him as well. "Is it really...? 'Feels...feels good..."

Freshly hatched and vulnerable, the instinct of the infant aliens is to remain somewhere safe and comforting. The fluid around them makes it possible for them to survive without direct respiration, a fact He Ming might try to consider if he weren't so utterly overwhelmed. A literal gush of fluid exits him, landing with a wet splash on the ground as He Ming fights down another round of shuddering.

"It's alive," he whispers. "I can feel it. I can hear them." Voices much smaller and weaker than the parent's, but voices all the same.

Speaking of which, the adult creature is hovering over them again. Looking up, He Ming gives a weary exhale and forces his body to move. He can hear the desires it's conveying. Cehd'ra is encouraged to mimic He Ming's actions by pushing and prodding him back onto his front. In the process the tentacle at his back squeezes especially tight and gives him an extra tug.

"It wants them out." Propping a hand on the floor, He Ming raises himself back onto his knees. Oh, his legs hurt. He can feel cool air going inside of him, he's so loose. The sensation is replaced a few seconds later by the parent's much larger, stronger tentacles hooking into his hole and pulling it open. This time he keeps his hips down, letting gravity aid the creature as it wriggles its way out. He can't quite focus enough to squeeze.

Cehd'ra whimpers at He Ming being moved as it means having to let go of him, the miqo'te stubbornly reaching even as the creature all but flips him onto his stomach. The tail tug is enough to slide the whole of him back a few inches and for him to clench--or try to at least. The creature saw to it they were both thoroughly fucked and Cehd'ra's hole can manage are a few twitches.

It's He Ming's voice that sinks in before the creatures pushing and pulling, finally getting Cehd'ra to copy the other as best he can. Out. Yes. That's something he wants very much too...even if the way the infant moves about is wildly good. "Haaa..."

Getting his trembling limbs to support him feels like a small miracle but the miqo'te isn't as toned as he is for show. Hands and knees first and then, when that doesn't seem enough, pushes himself upright. There's an ominous moment where he sways back before the tentacle that's been abusing his tail curves against his body, keeping him from toppling as the infant can no longer keep itself inside. It drops to the ground with an unceremonious splat, unhurt but decidedly unhappy as its tiny tentacles flail about, trying to grab Cehd'ra's legs and anything else in reach.

Kneeling beside Cehd'ra is a position not unfamiliar to He Ming. What is unfamiliar is the awful feeling of gaping, being unable to control muscles too tired to protest. The small tentacle creature slips out of He Ming a few seconds after Cehd'ra's exits him, except a small tendril just catches on He Ming's rim and the baby makes a valiant attempt to pull itself back in.

He Ming lurches forward and keens so high and loud his throat hurts. His ass hurts too, despite all the lube, sore and loose. With some impatient wiggling of his hips He Ming manages to dislodge the infant alien before toppling onto his side, curling up with his arms held to his chest.

"'m so tired," he complains. "Cehd'ra... I wanna sleep."

Around them, the massive appendages of the creature shift, reaching beneath Cehd'ra to pull its child away and into its own welcoming grip. The much smaller tentacles cling onto its parent, while a few last pats come from the alien finally releasing Cehd'ra from its attentions.

Finally left alone, or at least unmolested, Cehd'ra sags forward and all but drops onto the floor. The infants are carried away, pulled into the mass of tentacles where they can be kept safe to complete their development. The pleasure is gone and now everything hurts but Cehd'ra is honestly glad for it in a way. He doesn't know when he'll be able to sit normally again but it's over and they're both alive...

It would be easy to pass out then and there but for He Ming's plaintive voice keeping him in the present. Sprawled out on his stomach Cehd'ra pushes himself onto his side, wordlessly reaching for He Ming and pulling them together. It's hardly comfortable, lying on the floor half naked and increasingly sticky...but it's better than being surrogate parents for a tentacle monster.

"Uh-huh," he mumbled, eyes refusing to stay open for more than a few heartbeats. "'Rest a bit...then a bath then...then sleep."

More likely it would be sleeping on the floor until the cold and the lack of comfort overcame their fatigue and then a bath. By then the creature would be gone, literally vanishing in a puff of smoke back to wherever Cehd'ra had accidentally summoned it from along with it's children.

The air feels cold now that the creature isn't touching them, no contact from the tentacles or stimulation to keep their blood running high. He Ming shifts around on the ground, trying to hold himself as he feels his body rapidly begin to cool now that he has nothing else to focus on.

"Bath," he says softly. Cehd'ra sounds just as exhausted as he feels. Reaching out, He Ming just manages to put an arm around him as his eyes fall shut in sleep.

When he wakes up again, the sun is barely still above the horizon. He Ming pushes himself up from the ground with his hands, groaning at the painful throbbing in his hips and lower back. This is worse even than how he felt after that one marathon sex session he had a few months back. He feels awful and his legs are barely working. Having slept on the ground for an hour or so didn't help.

Ah—Cehd'ra. He Ming touches his shoulder to wake him. "Hey," he says hoarsely. "Are you okay?"

Cehd'ra twitches at the touch, attempting to curl up but his limbs too stiff to cooperate. Even his ears are slow to move, pulling back at first before recognizing He Ming's voice if not the words quite yet. He squints up at the other, blinking and trying to sit up as well and instead winds up rolling onto his back with a wince.

"...'arm's numb," he answers. Falling asleep on one side had put that arm to sleep as well. He rubbed his fingers together, wincing at the growing tingle as sensation slowly returned. It wasn't as bad as the rest of him but Cehd'ra didn't want to complain about something that was his fault to begin with.

"Are you...oh, the bath, right," he goes on, grimacing as he gives sitting up another try. This time he makes it, gingerly keeping as much weight off his hips as possible.

Trying not to rest any weight on his ass, He Ming pushes himself all the way over to his knees—which are also bruised. Ow. "I really want to take a bath," he mumbles. Really, he feels gross. "But I don't think we'll both fit in the tub."

Cehd'ra doesn't look well. He didn't sound well, either, when he was getting up. "But we should clean up."

They'll find a way, He Ming decides. They'll always find a way. He finally gets up on his feet, holding a hand to his lower back and supporting himself on the wall immediately. A whine of owwww emerges, but he's up, and extending a hand to help Cehd'ra achieve the same.

Cehd'ra has to smile ruefully at He Ming's offered hand. He shakes his head no and sets to getting up on his own...just as much a struggle but he doesn't want to risk pulling He Ming down by accident and cause further injury. That's the rational reason at least, the irrational is still tangled up in guilt. It takes him a few moments, getting his hands underneath him and then his knees before the feet can follow, tender tail twitching out behind him to help balance.

"Ngh, s'fine," he insists, reaching much the same pose bracing himself against the wall. "It's fine...it'll be better after."

After a bath which, He Ming is right, they both probably won't fit in. Well, the could, but not without either curling up uncomfortably or one lying on top of the other...also uncomfortably. Yesterday the idea of sharing a bath with He Ming would have been an enticing one, as things are now Cehd'ra isn't sure when he'll be in the mood for sex again.

"You can have the first," he insists before He Ming can suggest otherwise, finally taking the other's hand and easing it over his shoulder. They can hobble the rest of the way together.

"Mm. Okay. We should take a bath and then sleep." On their way, He Ming makes a detour from the still-sticky living room to the kitchen for a glass of water. He fills up another for Cehd'ra.

"I feel all dehydrated," he mumbles, leaning his weight against the counter. He's sure Cehd'ra feels similar. "What happened? I mean, did it just disappear?"

After everything, He Ming still wants to talk.

At first Cehd'ra wants to protest the detour but realizing what He Ming is after gets him to follow along without complaint. He takes the glass in both hands, going for just a sip as He Ming asks him a question...and then ends up downing the whole glass before he can bring himself to put it down and answer.

"Haa...that was needed." What was the question? Oh, where did the monster go...

"...I believe it went back," Cehd'ra says. "To wherever it was I summoned it from."

Certainly not a plane he was familiar with. That couldn't have been a spirit he shaped like he normally did...he would never shape it into something like that and he hadn't felt that part of the magic go any differently. The best Cehd'ra can guess is that the place he tried to reach wasn't there or he'd missed it somehow. So instead of the raw aether of the spirits he normally called and bound he got something that already had a shape and a purpose...

He thinks.

"Back," He Ming echoes quietly. Back to a realm he'll never really see, the void that swallowed his own mind up months ago. He hums and finishes his own water.

"I'll go clean up. Meet me in bed?" Something approaching hesitance slows He Ming's usual rapid speech; he looks at Cehd'ra for a moment before continuing. "I don't want to sleep alone."

The miqo'te's ears twist as he takes a moment to think over He Ming's request. When he considers the alternative...he doesn't think he wants to sleep alone either. Cehd'ra nods once, deciding it for himself, and then looks up at He Ming and nods again.

"Go on," he says. "We shall use your room."

Cehd'ra doesn't go right away, cleaning up with hot water from the sink while He Ming takes his bath. Satisfied he makes his way, stepping quietly to get a long shirt on (pants required too much bending) and find a way under He Ming's covers. From there Cehd'ra had planned to stay awake and wait but the moment the miqo'te settled he began sleeping like the dead. Curled up much like the cats he hates being compared to, warm and safe save for whatever his dreams manage to dredge from the day's events.

He Ming's bed is flush with pillows, but he holds onto Cehd'ra rather than any of those. Cehd'ra provides his own body heat, he's soft, and he's Cehd'ra. While they sleep He Ming squirms occasionally. Other than a few whimpers, he sleeps soundly, overexerted and tired out.

He wakes up to the sound of birdsong. It's incredibly mundane, after all that went on yesterday. Nuzzling at the back of Cehd'ra's neck, he hums softly.

"Are you feeling any better..?"

The discomfort that had been spread throughout Cehd'ra's body has softened by the time morning comes around, replaced instead with a gnawing hunger. How long have they slept? It still takes He Ming's prompting to wake him up, muscles moving at the recognition of being in his gentle grasp, ears lifting as his voice tickles the soft hairs on his nape. Cehd'ra mumbles an answer, having to work to get his stiff body to cooperate.

"'Yeah," he eventually said, eyes still not wanting to open even protected from the light by all the pillows and sheets. "A little...more hungry I think. Are you...?"

He's not really thinking about yesterday. Every time he starts to his mind reels back, disbelief and shock leaving him to pray it was all just a bad dream and write it off as such. The aches suggest otherwise, but here in the dim light with He Ming's dry and careful arms around him he can almost pretend.

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