drear | 'cause my wheels never touch the road

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.

Snuggled up with Cedh'ra, the warmth keeps him as comfortable as he can be when he was so thoroughly fucked the day before. As soon as he moves he feels soreness radiating from his hips up his spine.

"Nn. Yeah, I'm kind of hungry." Rubbing his face at the crook of his neck, He Ming draws in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "But I don't want to get up."

Instead he wants to indulge in this warmth, and indulge in Cehd'ra. He Ming's hands wander around his middle and higher, fingers spanning his ribcage.

"That is going to be a problem," Cehd'ra answers and makes absolutely no effort to get out of bed himself. They should. He should. One of them should. After yesterday they need to recuperate and lying in bed without food or water is not the way to do that. Yet when He Ming breathes against the back of his neck and his hands smooth over his sides...it surprises Cehd'ra how much finds himself wanting more touches like them.

"But we should," he tries, groaning as he shifts, attempting a stretch that pushes his body closer against He Ming. "...at some point."

The miqo'te finds one of the other's hands, taking it and lifting it up to cradle between his own. It's just holding right now, it doesn't have to be anything more than that. Doing too much is absolutely a concern right now...but a little more, maybe, to prove that it's alright? Cehd'ra brings He Ming's knuckles up to his lips, kissing them softly and sweeping his thumbs across his palm.

They should get up, yeah, at some point. Food and water are both really important. He Ming can actually feel that his tongue is dry, which is gross.

But right now he wants something else more. Rubbing his hand against Cehd'ra's skin, He Ming circles one palm and lets him pull the other one up for a soft kiss. Fingers curl in Cehd'ra's grip before He Ming hums quietly.

"Later," He Ming mumbles. "Let me... touch you first. Can I?"

His free hand begins to dip lower, making it clear exactly what kind of touching He Ming is interested in.

The fact that either of them are still in the mood for this, even after a night and then some of rest, is a surprise to Cehd'ra. Or rather, it's a surprise from him, not as much from He Ming now that he thinks about it. The warm press of his hand, circling and then sliding down his torso, makes his stomach flip and warmth spread through from his core. The miqo'te's eyelids flutter open, tipping his head back and letting his ears flick against He Ming's chest.

He can say no. He Ming will listen if he does. It's a reassuring thought...even if Cehd'ra doesn't think he wants to disappoint.

"Please do," he murmurs, reaching to cover both of He Ming's hands now with his own, helping to guide the other lower to brush his fingers over his still soft cock.

Cehd'ra fits so nicely in his arms. He's warm, soft, and still responsive. As he tilts his head back He Ming hums at the tickle of fur against his bared skin and gives him a soft kiss on the shoulder.

"Okay," he says, voice low and thrumming in his throat. "Tell me what you want me to do, okay?"

With the guidance, He Ming moves his hand to wrap carefully around his length. He moves only his fingers at first, touching the head with his fingertips and stroking lightly along the shaft to try and get him hard. As long as it feels good for Cehd'ra, He Ming will do whatever he has to.

"Is this good?" Again he kisses Cehd'ra's neck. "Too much?"

"Mnh, 'like that," Cehd'ra groans at the soft touches, so gentle and the sensations barely more than teasing. It means some coaxing is needed on He Ming's part to get him hard, his cock slowly warming to the touches and building up to a pleasant ache. "That feels perfect."

He trusts He Ming enough to let go, reaching up and behind him to comb through the man's hair, hips rocking slowly as he lets himself get hard. He doesn't exactly want to move, happy to continue being spooned and touched like this, but it feels a little selfish...

"Do you want my hands too? Or I could turn around, 'give you my mouth..."

'cause my wheels never touch the road

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