The night wind at Dragonspine was so biting that your fingers grew numb despite your gloves.
“You forgot your scarf again.”
A black scarf was wrapped around your neck from behind. Durin leaned in close, his soft locks brushing against your cheek as he carefully adjusted the fabric.
“I told you it would snow tonight.”
You laughed, habitually reaching up to ruffle his hair.
“Well, I have you to look after me, don’t I?”
His movements stiffened for a fraction of a second.
...That look again.
Like a sister doting on a younger brother.
Durin pursed his lips, silently taking your hand to lead you through the deep snow.
It all started when Albedo asked you to assist him in the laboratory for a few days.
Truthfully, it was nothing out of the ordinary. You were simply spending more time around Albedo, occasionally losing track of Durin, who sat in the corner watching the two of you talk.
“This reaction is actually fascinating,” you murmured, chin resting in your hand as you scanned the notes. “You really are a genius.”
“Thank you,” Albedo replied in his usual calm cadence. “But the credit belongs mostly to you.”
Standing by the table, Durin silently tightened his grip on the mug of hot cocoa in his hands.
Again.
The look Albedo gave you was far too tender.
And you didn’t notice a thing.
“Durin?” You turned toward him. “Why are you just standing there?”
“...It’s nothing.”
He set the cocoa down in front of Albedo with a sharp thud.
“Drink it.”
“Thank you.”
“Don't mention it.”
Durin’s voice was so icy it made you blink in surprise. For the rest of the evening, he didn't utter another word to Albedo.
You truly couldn't understand why Durin was clinging to you all the following day.
The moment you moved to fetch some documents, he caught your wrist.
“I’m coming with you.”
“I’m just going to the next room?”
“I’m still coming.”
When you were speaking with Sucrose, Durin would wedge himself between you with a perfectly innocent expression.
“I’m cold.”
“...But you’re a dragon?”
“I’m still cold.”
When you helped Bennett bandage his hand after another one of his accidents, Durin sat nearby, staring so intensely that Bennett began to break into a cold sweat.
“I-Is something wrong, Durin?”
“No.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Maybe your face is just annoying.”
You let out a small laugh.
“Durin, don’t bully him.”
He went silent instantly, bowing his head like a child wrongly scolded.
“...You’re always taking everyone else's side.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
You sighed.
Adolescence was truly a mystery.
That night, the snow fell heavier than usual.
You stayed late at the lab to help Albedo organize his files. By the time you finished, it was nearly midnight.
“I think you should head back and rest,” Albedo said. “It’s freezing out there.”
“Yeah... Durin is probably looking for me.”
The moment you spoke his name, the door swung open.
Durin stood there.
His coat was caked in snow.
His violet hair was slightly disheveled from the wind.
“Durin?” You gasped. “Did you come out looking for me?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
His dark crimson eyes flickered toward Albedo before landing on the coat draped over your shoulders.
Albedo’s coat.
“...Were you planning on staying here all night?”
“No, I was just—”
“I’ve been waiting for three hours.”
His voice was low and heavy.
You froze. Durin rarely spoke to you in that tone.
“I’m sorry...” You stepped toward him. “I didn't realize how late it was.”
“Exactly,” he let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “You never realize.”
The room fell into a heavy silence.
Albedo quietly stepped aside, as if realizing the gravity of the moment.
You frowned, looking up at Durin.
“Are you angry?”
“...And if I said I was?”
“Then... I’m sorry?”
“I don't want to hear an apology.”
Durin stepped closer.
The distance was so small you could feel the chill of the snow still clinging to him.
“I hate how you’re always looking at others.”
“Durin—”
“I hate how you smile at them.”
“...”
“I hate how you touch them.”
You were stunned.
“Are you... jealous?”
Finally, you realized.
Durin let out a soft laugh, but his eyes held no joy.
“What did you think I’ve been doing all this time?”
“...I thought you were just being childish.”
“I am not your brother.”
The words rang clearly through the quiet lab.
Durin lowered his head, resting his forehead against your shoulder as if he had been carrying a burden for far too long.
“I love you.”
His voice cracked.
“And not like family.”
His hand gripped your wrist, tight and firm.
“I love you so much it drives me insane to see you care for anyone else.”
“Durin...”
“I know you don’t feel the same yet,” he whispered. “But at least... stop treating me like a child.”
Outside, the snow continued to fall in silence.
Inside the small room, Durin held onto you, like a man who had kept his feelings buried for so long that he simply couldn't hold them back anymore.
Warnings: Afab!reader, not gender neutral, much talk of pregnancy and hypothetical babies, labor and delivery, anal sex, eggs, birthing/egg laying, semi public sex, vaginal fingering, brief rimming, one instance of squirting, lactation, nursing, general reproductive nonsense, some coercion on Albedo's part, just to be absolutely clear the eggs are in readers butt
A/N: Thematically this is very, very similar to the Kabukimono piece I posted earlier this year and it features many of the same beats. It got to a point where I even started to ask myself if I was just writing the same fic again but in a different font. lol Biologically, this makes absolutely no sense. And that's okay. We're just here to have fun. If anything in the warnings isn't to your liking, then please keep scrolling. And just remember - when I wax poetic about butt stuff there is absolutely NO scat content anywhere in my work. 😅
⭐
The dragon before you slowly opens its mouth, revealing two bony ridges of clean white teeth. A matching double set of pointed canines gleam their untested edges as if in greeting under the light and give you pause. For a brief moment you stop to consider the wisdom of reaching into such an unpredictable creature's maw.
Reminding yourself that he hasn’t bitten you yet despite all of the poking and prodding over the last month, you carefully slide the flat compressor between his lips and press down on the pink tongue tucked inside. Everything still looks to be in order, just as it did at last week’s check up, but you still lean in close for a better look. Only to be thorough, of course.
Eyes that resemble the ultraviolence of a summer sunset track your movements with patient resignation, his polite interest in these repetitive exams having long since exhausted itself. He doesn’t try to fight it or become combative though, and for that you would remain forever grateful. This was already unpleasant enough without turning it into an even bigger ordeal than it needed to be. You were an alchemist, a scientist. Not a doctor.
But at least it was a quick, relatively painless process now that both of you knew what to expect from the other after going through it so many times since his abrupt entrance into this world. Your initial uncertainty coupled with his skittishly shy demeanor at the onset had at first made this task take much longer than it needed to, yet now you were flying right through the exam in record time. You might even be able to pass for a trained professional someday if you kept at it.
“Hanryy granshuhs?”
Shaking your head, you ease the compressor out of his mouth and lean back to take a good look at the dragon — no, the young man seated in front of you. Physically he did not appear all that different from the Captain of the Investigation Squad, your direct commander and boss, sometimes confidant but always a proper pain in the ass; and you can’t help to wonder if that was by design. It was hard to say with your middling level of knowledge in the alchemical arts. As the expert here he should have been the one performing these routine checkups, not you.
Because you certainly hadn’t manipulated life into this faultlessly well mannered being who was sitting in front of the stately desk in the captain's personal office, so why were you the one who was being made to tend to him like this?
“No changes that I can see. It really is remarkable, you know. Not even a hint of cellular deterioration, no rapid breakdown of organic compounds to destabilize the nervous system. Nothing. You certainly seem to be in one piece as far as I can tell. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with your physiological biology.”
Durin looks pleased with that diagnosis. Or perhaps it’s mere relief at having this done and over with that pulls his lips into a smile, but either way you were decidedly in agreement with him. You didn’t like having to stick and poke him every week anymore than he enjoyed having it done to him, and you’d seen a few too many of the captain’s other synthetic creations slowly deteriorate over time to feel anything but glad that the same wasn’t happening to him. Good news all around.
Taking a step back, you chuck the used depressor into the nearby garbage bin and peel off the surgical gloves you’d donned to toss them out as well. “Albedo has truly outdone himself this time, if you ask me. You’re perfect in every way that matters. Although I suppose you could stand to grow a bit taller.”
A charming pink flush spreads across his cheeks at that thoughtful musing, but the door swings open before you can assure him you’d only been joking about that. Your attention comes up and fixes on the genius in question as he steps into the room, pointed gaze taking in the scene inside his office with the usual critical discernment he always displayed.
“How did the exam go? Everything is still as it should be, I hope?”
“He’s right as rain, Captain. Nothing at all for you to worry about.” You tell him while Durin, looking sheepishly embarrassed, hurries to pull his shirt back on and dress himself. “All of his teeth are still intact. Gums and tongue are a healthy color. His temperature is normal. Bloodwork looks fine to me. However I will remind you again that this is hardly my area of expertise. There’s every possibility I might be overlooking something.”
That earns you a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment as Albedo steps across the room to come stand with you and his crowning achievement. His … brother of sorts, if you’d understood his vague explanation on the matter correctly.
“Don’t worry, I trust your judgment. I appointed you my second in command for a reason, you know. But I’ll give everything in your report a thorough review once I finish up some paperwork for Jean first, just to double check that nothing of concern was missed.” A pause, while he seems to consider something he deemed important enough to dwell on, deep deliberation making his brows furrow slightly. “Thank you for all of your help with this, by the way. Your contributions have been invaluable to me during this unique … transition period.”
You can’t but feel more than a little flattered at being on the receiving end of the captain’s praise, so rarely was it given out when very few ever managed to meet his expectations. Although he had gotten a bit better about it as of late, ever since that mysterious Traveler first left Mondstadt to embark on their long journey, it still wasn’t something Albedo handed out very liberally or freely. If he bothered to say it then you knew he meant it.
“Think nothing of it, Captain. It’s been a pleasure to assist where I can. I’m just happy that your research finally reached its culmination and Durin here is the very picture of health. There’s not been even a hint of the common cold so far.”
Your attempt at levity does not sway him. His crystalline gaze bores into you for another moment longer, looking straight through into the very core of your brain as if he could make out the connecting atoms and lipids to map the structure without needing to dissect your head first. It’s somewhat unsettling, to have him looking at you like that but, at length, he slides his attention away to fix on his draconic creation instead.
“And how are you feeling? Have you gotten used to this new body yet?”
Glancing up from the careful buttoning of his waistcoat, Durin bobs his chin in a slow nod. “More or less. I still find myself a bit uncoordinated at times, clumsy. Especially if I forget myself and where which limbs are supposed to go. But I’ve pretty much mastered how to properly hold a fork and knife now.”
“That’s excellent to hear. You accomplished that even quicker than Klee did.” Albedo says with genuine warmth in his voice, unmistakable pride dancing in his eyes. “Are you enjoying your time with my vice captain so far? Is she teaching you many useful skills?”
“O - oh,” Durin’s attention flicks towards you and then drops to stare down at his lap. The pink flush returns to his face with a vengeance. “Yes, she’s been … very kind to me. Patient. Everyone has. I’ve already learned a lot about the human world thanks to all of your friends.”
You and Albedo share a quick look with one another.
“Calling us friends might be a bit …” You start to say, groping for the right word, but the Captain cuts you off.
“I don’t think that’s necessarily an inaccurate designation. While we are colleagues first and foremost, it would be disingenuous to say that’s all we are. We’ve certainly known each other for long enough to be more than simple acquaintances, I’d wager.”
You briefly consider that. He wasn’t exactly wrong. Between babysitting Klee and now Durin for him, it almost felt like you were being absorbed into the patchwork family dynamic through osmosis. Albedo certainly didn’t trust the oft times scatterbrained Sucrose enough to leave his little sister in her unsupervised care, and Timaeus was sometimes even worse in that regard. But he trusted you. He’d even said so himself.
In fact, he’d been reiterating that particular sentiment more and more often lately. How peculiar, now that you thought about it.
“That is true,” you start to say, but Albedo once again cuts across before you can finish speaking.
“I’m going to be here late tonight and Klee is with Kaeya for the day, getting into who knows what sort of trouble together. Why don’t the two of you go get something to eat and visit the bathhouse before you retire for the evening?”
Something in your gut twists at that deliberate mention of the baths, and you shoot Albedo a silent, questioning look. What was he getting at now?
“Normally I would, of course, take it upon myself to see that Durin’s daily hygiene needs are met,” Albedo goes on, staring pointedly at you the whole time. Like he was trying to convey something unspoken without having to actually give it voice, but you couldn’t even begin to guess at what new cockamamie ideas might be turning in his head at this crucial juncture. Didn’t he already have what he’d always wanted? “However I’m unfortunately quite boggled down with paperwork which Jean has personally requested that I complete at my earliest opportunity. I’m afraid I must leave his care in your hands, if you would be so willing to accommodate.”
You just stare at him.
He stares back.
Slowly, you allow your brows to knit in a clear sign of confusion, unsure what to make of this development.
Albedo purposely rolls his eyes towards Durin where he’s still seated on the chair between both of you, putting the final touches on straightening out his freshly donned coat. The Captain was clearly trying to tell you something but when you follow his line of sight to look at the alchemical miracle given flesh and bone, you don’t see whatever it is you’re supposed to be seeing.
You start to bring your attention back around, mouth already working to form the word ‘what’ when sudden realization slams into you like a brick. Eyes growing big, you snap them towards Durin again and do an alarmed double take. His cheeks were still red with lingering color and he was refusing to glance up from his self appointed task of dressing himself. Except now that you were looking at him through the clear lens of epiphany, you now realize that his jacket was already perfectly straight and he was fiddling with it only to look busy while he listened in with great interest to the conversation taking place over his head. The little scoundrel. No wonder he hadn’t stood up yet, knowing it would only draw attention to himself.
Your mouth seems to have gone dry as you hesitantly peer over at Albedo as if in search of an answer to the question you didn’t dare to ask. The blond merely shrugs though, inclining his chin towards the door in mute signal. Unfortunately you and him had never discussed any of the meanings behind this inaudible communication system he seemed to think you should innately understand, and you shoot him an utterly lost shake of your head.
Finally breathing out a soft but no less terse exhale, his patience with games evidently worn thin, Albedo at last opens his mouth to speak. “Naturally I’ll be happy to compensate you for taking on these extra responsibilities outside of your normal schedule so don’t worry about any of the costs you might incur. I’m willing to pay for everything, of course. As long as Durin’s needs are appropriately seen to you will have my thanks. Does this arrangement sound agreeable?”
That question was not directed at you, and the horned young man shyly lifts his face at being addressed. “No complaints from me. These checkups always leave me feeling hungry and … a bath does sound nice.”
You slowly blink your eyes as if to rid them of a hallucination that’s befallen you, trying to make sense of what’s happening. Ever unperturbed, Albedo nods his head to indicate that the matter has been decided.
“Then let me fetch my wallet. You’re welcome to wait outside if you’d like.”
Despite his newness to this world and its at times confounding minefield of polite niceties, Durin has still learned enough in his short time here to recognize when he’s being dismissed. With one last tug at his sleeve and a split second glance in your direction, he unfolds himself from the highbacked chair and makes his way to the door.
The moment the latch catches with a fleetingly brief click, you round on Albedo like a woman possessed. “What was all of that about, huh?” You hiss at him, mindful to keep the volume down lest this necessary conversation be overheard. “Don’t I even get a say in this anymore?”
The Captain of the Investigation Squad sends you a cool, frustratingly unbothered look. “Certainly you do. I’m not some tyrant taking away your freedom of choice. That would be antithetical to the Anemo Archon’s creed, wouldn’t it?”
He moves to step around you, aiming for the intimate end of his work desk where he likely kept his mora tucked away, but you follow hot on his heels like a spurned shadow.
“Then I can say ‘no’? Is that still my right?”
“You can. But you won’t.”
“Oh, and why is that? Don’t tell me you’re going to make me an offer I can’t refuse or some such nonsense.”
A bemused smile tugs at Albedo’s mouth even as he reaches down to slide the topmost drawer open, withdrawing from its contents a weighty looking satchel that clinks and rattles at even the slightest movement. As far as purses go, you’d wager this one was quite hefty and you let your mouth drop open in surprise.
“You keep that much in your office? Without even locking it up?”
“I don’t see any reason to. Not many among the rank and file knights would have the courage to steal something right out of my desk given my … curious reputation in the city.”
Your shoulders defensively bunch up towards your ears at that, sufficiently cowed by his answer. You knew exactly what he meant. The commoners of Mond weren’t quite convinced yet of the efficacy nor the need for alchemy, particularly the specific brand of alchemical transmutations that Albedo specialized in, and the baffling circumstances that had resulted in the Captain himself standing on trial for murder had only further called the art into question. You’d been on the receiving end of it too. Both as a practitioner yourself and as his appointed second in command. The shuttered double glances in the streets, uncertainty bred from lack of understanding. Most of the general populace were without even a baseline knowledge of how the science worked and so they were cautious towards its existence, unless it was a potion bottled up and ready to drink.
As with most things, Mondstadtter’s were perfectly happy to throw caution to the wind if it meant having a good, strong cocktail to wash down their gullets, methodology be damned!
“Besides,” he goes on, weighing out the stuffed pouch in his gloved palm. “Occasionally Klee will find her way up to my office and I don’t mind if she helps herself to the mora I keep here. Better to leave it easily accessible so that she might buy herself a snack at the food stalls or a new toy that’s caught her eye than to lock it away and risk her burning the whole building down to get to it. I have more at home anyway.”
Albedo holds out the purse then and you mechanically offer your hand, fully expecting him to simply shake out a few gold coins to cover dinner for two and a stop at the public baths. Much to your surprise, though, he drops the entire thing into your waiting palm and you nearly drop it at the unexpected weight.
“Wha - you’re giving me all of this? But why?”
“I said I’d compensate you accordingly, didn’t I?”
“This is way beyond that! I can’t possibly accept all this mora, Captain, please. It wouldn’t be right. Just take it back and give me only enough to cover what you’ve asked me to do, nothing more.”
You try to shove the purse back at him, desperate to be rid of it, but Albedo waves you off before crossing his arms over his chest so you physically can’t force him to take it. The clever bastard.
“Don’t worry about it, I insist. I want you to have it. For all of your extra help up til’ now as much as for … taking care of him tonight.”
You quickly decide you don’t like the way he’d said that. Neither the particular wording he’d used nor the tone he’d used to speak it, and your brows take a very expeditious trip up to your hairline. “What is that supposed to mean? What exactly are you expecting me to do with him?”
He makes a face at you like you should already know the answer and if you somehow don’t then the clues were right in front of you, just waiting to be pieced together, but you can’t accept that. You won’t. Surely he wasn’t suggesting what you thought he was? It’s such a blatantly absurd thought that it crossed the line over into being utter nonsense. There had to be a different explanation here.
Unfortunately Albedo sees your stubborn refusal to accept the truth where it’s painted all over your face in broad sweeping brushstrokes and he blows out a slow exhale through his nose, annoyed that he has to spell it out. “Forgive me for being blunt but the way Durin looks at you … if I’m not mistaken I believe he’s taken a liking to you. Or to use the colloquial language of Mond it might be more apt to say he’s developed a crush. You’ve enamored him.”
“Okay … and? That doesn’t mean I have to do anything about it.”
“Mm. Perhaps not. But this is a uniquely interesting opportunity, isn’t it? Not one we’re likely to happen upon again anytime soon. Unless, of course, his heart is as fickle as some of the soldiers are.”
His gaze takes on a far off quality then, clearly considering this possibility with what he deemed to be the appropriate amount of gravitas, but you can’t stop yourself from barreling full steam ahead. This was ridiculous.
“I’m sorry, Captain, but I don’t quite follow. Can you just tell me what it is you’re thinking? My tolerance for guessing games is shot.”
Slowly and without moving his head, Albedo fixes his attention upon you again. “To be frank, I think this might be a good chance to test the — completeness of his transformation. Based on the labs we’ve already run he should be fully human now, save for the extra appendages on his head and his back. But it’s precisely the existence of those vestigial traits that makes me wonder what else is still potentially more dragon than man. A complete transition should mean that he can couple with a human woman and - -“
“You want me to sleep with him!” You blurt, unable to hold your dawning horror back any longer, but the Captain is quick to shush you.
“Keep your voice down. I’m only putting forth a hypothesis based on the previous blood samples we took but I believe he should be able to successfully copulate. He seems healthy in every other way, virile even. I just don’t know if your DNA and his would be … compatible, to produce any offspring. And unfortunately there is only one real way to test this theory.”
Your head positively reels and you feel sick. This was the very last conversation you’d expected to have when you woke up today, least of all with Albedo of all people. In truth some part of you is surprised to learn he even knows anything about the process of reproduction in the first place, given how disinterested in the topic he seemed to be. Although, in light of this revelation, you now supposed that was only where his own involvement in the act was concerned. Go figure.
“Captain, this is insane … I’m not sure why you would think to ask this of me.”
“Well, I certainly can’t test it myself, can I?”
You narrow your eyes at him, glaring daggers when your face starts to grow hot. This blasé attitude of his was in many ways what found him in the center of a murder trial not all that long ago. One would have thought he’d learn his lesson by now.
“Be that as it may,” you hiss, fisting the satchel of mora so hard your knuckles ache in protest. “You’re making too light of this situation for my tastes. What do you suppose I’m going to do with a baby if your hypothesis proves true and his seed takes root in my belly? And what if it’s not even human? I have no interest in caring for an infant right now, of any species.”
Albedo lifts a single brow at that, and you rush to tack on, “Or in the future for that matter!”
“That’s understandable then,” he relents, humming a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. “But I’ve heard that there are remedies for such problems. Of course I’ve not had any experience with them myself, but if you were certain that you didn’t want to keep it should that outcome indeed come to pass …”
He lets that hang in the air, leaving it unfinished and unspoken but the implication was loud enough to more than make up for it. Terminating the pregnancy you very well might end up with if you actually went through with this was always an option. A perfectly good and reasonable option, you would even say. You certainly weren’t going to second guess yourself when the alternative would almost certainly spell the end of your career as you knew it.
But the point still stood that you’d rather not be pregnant at all, or have to go through the trouble to rid yourself of one. There were plenty of other things you’d much rather do than that. Swimming the total circumference of Cider Lake completely naked being right at the top of the list when this was the alternative.
“And if I refuse? What happens then, Captain?”
“Is that really the question you should be asking right now?”
You frown at that. “I’m not sure what you mean. That question seems perfectly reasonable to me.” Especially when you would be the one who has to deal with the consequences.
“It’s certainly a fair thing to wonder,” he relents, uncrossing his arms before turning to glance up and out the window that stands watchful guard over his desk. Sunset was already starting to fall over the land, turning the cottony cloud covered sky a menagerie of vibrant colors. It reminded you of Durin’s eyes, actually.
“However,” Albedo continues, musing to himself. “If I were in your shoes I would choose to look at it from a different perspective. Rather than what’s been done to me or what might be done, I would instead ask what my cooperation means to the experiment. Can it be accomplished without me? If so then who would take my place? Is it a worthwhile sacrifice for me to consciously make or would my contributions be better served elsewhere?”
He allows this to settle too, just giving it the space to fill up and occupy the empty patches of open air inside his office for a drawn out stretch of seconds. Then he turns, glancing back at you with an indecipherable expression.
“What do you think the answer might be, dear assistant?”
Your guts feel like they’re freezing over inside of you. It’s such an awful realization and the sense of nausea that comes with it very nearly knocks you off your feet.
“You’ll just ask someone else to do it if I won’t … is that it?” He was serious about that too. You could see it in his eyes, how he looks at you.
Albedo neither confirms nor denies, merely tipping his head slightly to one side like an inquisitive bird, but he doesn’t really need to, you suppose. The implication is there, and you hear it as clearly as any church tower bell.
It was probably your fault for assuming he would be satisfied with this, that he’d be happy with the end results of his research and the fruit it bore. That he’d stop once he accomplished his goal of creating a synthetic human being, even if it was a bit more dragon than he’d likely envisioned it to be. There were still things to be done, questions to answer, and truths to uncover. And the worst part of it was that you couldn’t even fault him for it. Durin’s ability to reproduce would serve as the final test of his completeness. It would indicate whether or not he was as whole as you or Sucrose, or Timaeus, or Jean.
You just really wished you weren’t the one who had to shoulder the responsibility of carrying out this test to find out.
“Fine.” You say at last, when the silence has stretched on for so long that it was starting to grow uncomfortable. “I’ll see what I can do, Captain. I won’t take the initiative but if he comes to me I … I won’t turn him away.”
“That’s good to hear. Thank you. And just remember, there will be plenty of compensation for your troubles.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Trouble was an understatement. You felt so sick just thinking about the possibility of an unwanted pregnancy that you’d barely eaten anything at dinner.
Durin had questioned your lack of appetite, of course, over your largely untouched plate, and he was asking you again if everything is alright as you make your way towards the bathhouse together. You couldn’t tell him the truth though. This situation was already sticky enough as it was without further complicating it, and it was only going to get even stickier if Albedo got his way. Damn him.
“I promise I’m fine, but thank you for worrying about me. You’re very sweet.”
Walking alongside you, Durin looks a bit sheepish but pleased at your words. A confusing mix of emotions, he can’t seem to decide if he wants to smile or not, so he lowers his head in an attempt to hide the wobbling curve of his mouth. You had to admit, he was awfully cute.
Not cute enough for you to reconcile the possibility of carrying his child, but still.
“If you’re sure then … I won’t press anymore. I just thought something might have been worrying you. Back at headquarters it seemed like Albedo was talking to you in his office for a long time, so I wondered if it had something to do with that …”
Of course. You can’t even pretend to be surprised that he’d noticed how many minutes passed while he waited out in the corridor before you’d finally appeared in the door. He may have been naive to many facets of human society but he wasn’t stupid. Far from it. If you weren’t careful what you let slip he might even start to piece things together on his own. Better to nip this in the bud then.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing for you to be concerned about.” You assure him, keeping your voice light and pleasant to hopefully assuage any of his lingering concerns. “It might not seem like it but Albedo is still a highly respected knight, and a captain at that. There are a great many things he needs to take care of and as his second it’s my job to help him wherever I can. We were just talking about boring stuff like that.”
Durin seems to believe that, for his shoulders visibly relax and his tentative smile loses some of its tightness at the edges. You were starting to understand that he was a bit self conscious and he didn’t want to be a burden to anyone or cause problems for those around him. Albedo likely understood that too, which was probably the reason for all this secrecy surrounding the million mora question instead of just asking him outright.
Do you want to fuck my second in command and see if you can make a baby together? Yeah, that would have gone over real well.
The cobblestone streets are still crowded despite nightfall and you pass by a laughing group of men making their way to one of the many taverns in the city. Durin curiously watches them go by but he doesn’t seem to have any real interest in joining in on their revelry and merrymaking, given the way he subtly shifts closer to you as if he thought they might try to snatch him up. If what Captain Kaeya had said was true the dragon didn’t have much taste for alcohol, at least not yet, but you wondered if that would ever change. Total sobriety was hard to maintain in the city of freedom.
Near the south side of the impenetrable wall stood the most popular bathhouse in Mondstadt, a squat brick building that stretched out like a languorous cat at ease under the shadow of the church. It was easy to overlook if you didn’t know it was there but the near constant foot traffic typically clued in even the most unwitting of tourists from neighboring nations that something of great import was housed here.
The two of you have to wait in a short line at the front of the establishment, queuing behind a handful of freshly off duty knights, a small rabble of peasantry and what looks to be a traveling merchant from Liyue. Everyone moves through quickly though, and finally it is your turn to pay as you step up to the polished wood countertop behind which was stationed the lone attendant.
She takes one look at you, smiles, and then turns her attention to Durin. “Two for the public bath?”
“Yes, please.” You say, fishing into the purse Albedo had given you but a sudden thought makes you pause. Turning your head, you too look at Durin who starts to fidget under all of the attention he was getting. That was to be expected though. The horns and tail weren’t exactly a common sight here.
That’s not why you were staring at him though, already long since accustomed to seeing his curious appendages that they don’t even register as out of the ordinary anymore. No, you were thinking back on that conversation with the captain. You’d told him you would try, and that you wouldn’t reject Durin if he came to you on his own. But did that not mean you were somehow obligated to give him the opportunity to take a proactive approach if he was really as smitten with you as Albedo had said? He couldn’t very well do that in a crowded public bath.
Burn it all.
“Actually,” you amend yourself, slowly glancing up at the attendant again. “Can I get one of the private baths, please? I don’t want to draw too much attention, if possible.”
The girl's eyes lingers on Durin’s horns for another moment longer and then she nods in agreement, evidently seeing the wisdom in that call. Mora exchanges hands and she tells you where to go, indicating a room that sits at the far back of the building.
“You can’t miss it,” she says with a practiced smile. “You’ll see bottles of oils and soap, shampoos and lotion. They’re all included in the price so use whatever catches your fancy.”
Thanking her for her help, you take Durin by the shoulders and quickly steer him inside, your face feeling hot enough to fry an egg on. You couldn’t believe you were actually going through with this, for starters. And what did the attendant think of you paying so much just so you and him could be alone together, for another. Given the way she’d described it, you had a sinking feeling this particular bath was one usually bought by prostitutes and their clients. You were just humiliating yourself at this point.
But it was too late for second thoughts now, and you keep your head down as you make your way through the damp, humid corridor, sounds of splashing and loud conversations swarming around you from all sides. The tiles under your boots are smooth and you nearly slip once or twice in puddles left behind by children running to and fro, silently praying to the Anemo Archon that you don’t run into anyone you know here. You just might wilt and die of embarrassment if someone like Captain Kaeya — or worse! Headmaster Varka saw you like this.
Luck seems to be on your side though and you make it to the last room on the right which you decisively push Durin into before either of you can get cold feet. There’s no door for you to close behind you, but the relative privacy is felt immediately. It’s quieter back here, away from the much more occupied, larger public baths towards the front. The general din of noise is much further away now too and in the absence of noise you can make out a bard strumming a lyre somewhere nearby.
It adds to the ambiance of the room as you pause to take in the pool of glistening water where it’s built into and carved out of the floor in front of you. Speckles of light dance off the painted tiles on the walls to give it a hazy, dreamy quality that almost makes you feel like you’re under the gently lapping surface of a lake. And when you tilt your head back to examine the ceiling, you’re greeted by a rather lurid rendition of a maiden in coquettish sprawl, her bare breasts small and pert, hips set wide and inviting.
Your cheeks positively blaze. This was definitely a room meant for ladies of the night to make their livings in.
Feeling more than just a bit awkward, you hesitantly turn to Durin.
He’s not looking at you though, his big, ultraviolet eyes fixed on the shimmering bath. It didn’t seem like he’d even noticed the fresco overhead yet.
“Is this agreeable?” You ask, having to stop and clear your throat when it comes out more of a croak than anything else. “I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable in the more crowded rooms but maybe … this isn’t any better?”
Slowly shaking his head, he sends you a sheepishly small smile. “No, this is perfect. It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
He wasn’t exactly wrong about that but you felt you’d be remiss not to point out the obvious. “Are you sure? It’s not going to be weird if it’s just the two of us bathing alone?”
Durin blinks at that, a surprised, slow motion flutter of his eyelids that announces in no uncertain terms that he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. The poor guy. You honestly feel a little bad for him, especially when his face lights up like a lit solstice tree.
“Oh.” He blurts when the realization fully sinks in. “I - I don’t see anything wrong with it, do you? It’s just a bath.”
“Yeah.” You agree, not sounding like you really believe that. “Just a bath.”
For a drawn out moment you just look at one another. Man and woman, dragon and alchemist. You wonder, not for the first time this evening, why Albedo wasn’t simply satisfied with the life he’d already created. That alone was miracle enough not to need to look for another. If you were half as proficient in the arts as him and you’d imbued the essence of life into the person standing before you, the thought of finding out if he could in turn procreate never would have even crossed your mind.
But that’s probably why Albedo was the master and you the student. You still had a lot left to learn, even if you weren’t quite as hapless as Sucrose or as easily distracted as Timaeus. Your commitment to the science of alchemy was what had earned you the Captain’s recognition in the first place, so you take half a step back and reach for the front of your jacket.
Understanding flickers behind Durin’s eyes and he quickly turns in place, giving you his back and some modicum of privacy while he shrugs out of his own coat. Both of you work to undress yourselves in tension filled silence, though you can’t decide if it’s only imagined on your part or if he felt it too. The subtle, silent shift in the dynamic. The expectation of … of what, you couldn’t even begin to guess.
Did Albedo really want you to become pregnant just to sate his curiosity? And was that even what Durin wanted? Did he get a say in this at all? You certainly didn’t seem to.
And you practically rip your clothes off, knowing you’ll second guess everything until you talk yourself down from the ledge if you stop long enough to really think about it. You’re naked before he even gets down to his trousers, carefully taking his time with each individual button and catch, so you step forward into the water and seal your fate.
The temperature is comfortably warm, not hot, but you still hiss a quiet sound at the sensation on your bare skin. The ledge of the pool comes up to about mid waist but when you sink down to sit on the tiled bottom the water rushes up almost to your shoulders. Keeping your arms curled over your breasts in a last ditch effort at modesty, you lean back against the opposite wall and settle in to get comfortable. Or try to, anyway. It’s remarkably difficult when you were so on edge.
For another moment or two all that fills the room is the quiet sound of shuffling, clothes rustling, and then from the corner of your eye you see Durin turn himself towards the bath. Cautiously lifting your gaze, you find that he hasn’t quite learned to feel true shame regarding his genitals yet, and you get an uninterrupted look at his soft cock where it dangles between his legs. In fact, he seems to be much more concerned about his face than anything else, and he reaches up to cover it with his hands even as he steps to the edge of the pool.
It was a little silly, sure, and ass backwards to boot. But there’s something undeniably charming about his unorthodox behavior too. He was still learning how to be human and evidently Albedo had not yet stressed to him that showing your cock to a woman you’ve only recently met was something of a polite faux pas. Idly, you wonder if he expected you to teach Durin that too.
The water ripples and shifts around you when the dragon lowers himself in, taking the spot across from you and to the far left so that the two of you are sitting perpendicular to one another. The awkward distance is not lost on you in the slightest and you heave a long suffering sigh, realizing you were going to have to be a bit more proactive than you’d wanted to be.
“You don’t have to stay all the way over there. You’re welcome to come sit with me, if you want.”
Tipping his face towards you, Durin sends you the most pathetic, kicked-puppy-dog look you’ve ever seen, and it wrenches at your heart something fierce. “A - are you sure? I don’t want to force myself into your space and make you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s alright. Besides, who’s going to wash your back over there? Captain Albedo usually helps you with that, right?”
Durin slowly nods, looking like he was thinking about that rather deeply. Then, to no surprise at all, he shifts and rocks to his feet, carefully walking across the short width of the bath to come to your side. You get a much better look at what he’s working with the closer he gets to you; the shape and size of his silken ballsack, the protective wrinkle of flesh over the dangling tip of his cock and the coarse, dark thatch of hair that crowns his pelvic bone. He looks just like any other man you’ve ever seen naked before, not even an extra nipple or puss filled boil anywhere to denote that something might be wrong with him.
That makes your heart lodge itself in your throat when you realize what it likely means for you. Albedo was probably right about his virility, his ability to copulate. The only real question at this point was whether or not any sperm he might produce would be compatible enough with your biology to gestate and carry to term whatever he might implant in you. Honestly you still weren’t entirely convinced if it would be draconic or human in nature, and you were less and less sure if you wanted to find out.
Completely unaware of your spiraling alarm, Durin sinks down to sit next to you where he draws his knees up so that they breach the surface of the water. He stares down at them rather than looking at you, but it doesn’t take long before you catch him surreptitiously sneaking glances towards your chest. So either Albedo was correct about that too or he was just curious about what might be the closest pair of tits he’s ever seen. You didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.
“So,” you start, desperately groping for some kind of ice breaker. Unfortunately this was such a uniquely bizarre situation that you couldn’t think of anything that might work to dispel some of the awkward tension or the sinking dread that came with it. Finally you have no choice but to settle on, “Are you enjoying your time in Mondstadt so far?”
He nods, murmuring. “Very much so. There’s a lot I still don’t understand, and I don’t always feel like I belong here either, but … it’s a nice place. I like the city a lot.”
“I like it too. But I guess that goes without saying, doesn’t it? I live here, after all.” You make an attempt to laugh, sounding more like a groan, so you quickly stopper it. A moment of quiet passes over the still bath. “Is there — anything you’d like to do, Durin? In Mondstadt, I mean. Or maybe something you’d like to see?”
“Mm. I’m not sure what else there is to do or see. Klee has already shown me around to all the different toy shops but I don’t know how to play with any of them the way she does. Lisa showed me the library and the books, but … I don’t really understand what most of them mean yet. I guess I don’t quite know what I’m supposed to be doing with this new body.”
Your heart softens dramatically at that admission. It was an odd predicament to find oneself in, wasn’t it? Not quite human, not a man but not a boy either. He just was. Nothing more and nothing less. A singular existence that was thrust into this world without any real direction or purpose. Perhaps, in that sense, the impermanent quality of Albedo’s other creations was a blessing in disguise. None of them had ever needed to figure out what they were going to do with their futures because they never had one.
Drawing a slow breath to temper yourself, you tilt your head back to peer up at the fresco again. Had he still not noticed it? “I get what you mean. Our experiences are as different as night and day, but I do understand it. Even for those of us who were born into this world the old fashioned way it can be hard to figure out where you belong. Sometimes we just fall into whatever role is easiest or the one that was decided for us by our parents, holy decree or destiny. There’s not really a built in manual for this sort of thing, unfortunately.”
Durin shifts beside you, finally bringing his head up to look at you full on. “Is that how you came to work with Albedo on the Investigation Team? Was it the easier choice?”
That manages to make you laugh, and this time it sounds genuine. “It really wasn’t. I was meant to take over my mother’s bakery but, well … I suppose you could say I had bigger dreams. Or more foolhardy ones. But if you really stop and think about it, baking isn’t that much different from alchemy, is it?”
You turn to look at him expectantly, pleased to find Durin smiling again. “I wouldn’t know.” He admits. “But I’m glad you found your way here. It wouldn’t have been half as fun learning the ins and outs of human society without you there to teach me.”
“I’m glad too. And who else would Albedo have doing his dirty work for him if not me? Timaeus? Please!”
“You don’t like him?”
“No, it’s not that. Timaeus is just … not always the most reliable fellow, if you know what I mean. He’s dedicated much of himself to studying alchemical arts under the Captain’s tutelage but he’s still a bit wishy washy at times. Flighty. He still occasionally gets himself into trouble.”
Durin curiously tilts his head to one side at that. “And you don’t?”
“W - well … that’s up for debate, I suppose.” You grumble, looking away. And you’d been so close to forgetting all about Albedo’s ridiculous ask of you, dammit.
The dragon eagerly scoots himself closer to you then, almost sitting on your lap now. “I overheard him talking to one of the knights before, about someone in Liyue. Timaeus said she was beautiful and kind to him, but in … in bed she demanded much of him. More than he could sometimes give. The knight laughed and told him he should invent a potion to help him keep her happy.”
Your stomach twists itself into a knot as you slowly turn back to him, dreading the pin drop.
Blinking guilelessly, Durin goes on. “Is that the kind of trouble you meant? Is it … something bad?”
You truthfully have no idea how to answer that. Where did you even begin? “That’s, uh … I’m not so sure we should be talking about Timaeus’ personal affairs like that. What - what all did he say?”
He ponders that question for a moment. “Only that she loves when he uses his mouth but he gets tired and his jaw hurts after a while. I didn’t really understand what that was all about. And he said he likes when she gets on top but … she doesn’t know when to quit. That she just keeps going even after he’s already finished. The knight said that was a good problem for him to have. Were they talking about … food, perhaps?”
Your eyes go round as saucers as Durin falls silent, clearly deliberating over this conundrum and trying to make sense of it in his mind. Dammit, Timaeus, what kind of conversations are you having in broad daylight! You felt like you could just scream.
“It’s not — no, they weren’t talking about food. I’m not entirely sure how to explain this in a way that makes any sense … or if I even should, for that matter.”
Durin tilts his face towards you again, clearly keyed in and hanging off every word. Whatever momentary embarrassment he’d felt at the start was now long gone, nowhere to be found in his attentive expression.
You can feel the pressure of his stare burning a hole in the side of your head as you frantically wrack your brain for a semi decent response, but you aren’t sure if you should tell him the plain truth or try to skim around it. Your good common sense badly wants you to pick the latter, safer option so you can avoid having to go through with this hairbrained scheme and yet … you’d already told Albedo you would try. No promises had been made, sure, but you did give him your word. And you didn’t doubt for one second that if you failed in this he would just send someone else to collect the dragon’s seed and run his experiment with a different womb that was perhaps more willing and able than yours was.
It’s not even so much that the Captain was being cruel, you didn’t think. He was just single-mindedly focused on his research, his craft, and he wanted to know how successful he’d really been in creating something from nothing. It was one thing to give sentience and agency to a synthetic being but another matter entirely to bestow upon it the means of reproduction. The functionality to replicate, carry on its genetic coding into the next generation. This was the crowning pinnacle of alchemy as a science … wasn’t it?
It feels like the floor is falling out from underneath you as you force your spinning eyes to focus back in on Durin’s expectantly upturned face again. This was too much pressure for you to handle, too much at stake.
Roughly, you clear your throat. “Durin, do you know anything about … babies?”
Surprise registers in his expression. That was clearly the farthest thing from his mind in regards to this discussion. “Oh. Uh, a little bit, I guess. Why?”
“Do you know how they’re made?”
He opens his mouth, hesitates, seems to think about it and then slowly closes his lips. Ponders that for a drawn out beat. “They come out of women. Their mothers carry them in their stomachs.”
“And do you know how they get there? In their stomachs?”
That seems to truly stump him, and you can’t really blame him for that. It doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense to you either, the whole business of sperm and eggs, and nine months of gestation. Blessed Anemo Archon, you didn’t want to go through all of that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
It feels like you’ve got a rock wedged inside your throat and you once again try to cough it loose, struggling to decide if you were doing the right thing here. If it wasn’t you it would be someone else though. It’s better to at least try and say you did, so Albedo could have his answer and you wouldn’t ever have to speak of it again, than to push it off on the next person.
“It’s a bit like alchemy, if you want the truth. Taking two different materials and combining them to make something new, something better. Men are the ones who put babies in their mother’s stomachs and then it’s their job to carry them and give birth. You can’t make one without two participants coming together first. They don’t just appear out of thin air.”
He considers that. “Only men and women?”
“Well, there are some cases where two of the same gender might … wait, that’s going to complicate things. Let’s stick to the basics for now, shall we?”
His expression turns a bit wry as he sits up straighter, and you can see the dark, serpentine shape of his tail flicking out irritably in the water behind him. He was trying so hard to understand, you didn’t want to confuse him anymore than he already was.
“I think I get what you mean … so like you said earlier, it’s a bit like baking. Typically men have one ingredient and women have the other. And when they come together — that makes a baby?”
“That’s a very apt metaphor, yes.”
“Then …” Durin hesitates again, sending a slow look of consideration at your chest, still mostly hidden under the water and behind your crossed arms. He can see the tops of your breasts though, the fleshy swells that clearly stand out in contrast to the flat planes of his own. Something seems to click into place behind his eyes then and he peers up at you with a great deal of interest. “Does that mean you and I could make one?”
You should have known he’d be far too clever not to make that connection, even if hearing him say it still makes your stomach somersault over itself. “We could try … would you like to? I’m not sure if it’ll work though.”
“Mmm … what happens afterward when the baby is born?”
That manages to make you smile. At least someone was thinking responsibly here, and it certainly wasn’t Albedo. “Typically it needs constant care from its mother for about a year or so. When we, ah, carry a pregnancy to term our … breasts become full with milk for the baby to drink. And they eat a lot, or so I’ve heard.”
Genuine awe reflects in his face now as he drops his attention back down to your chest but this time he doesn’t politely look away. Your tits have his full attention now, even more so than before. Which was surprising, given his apparent fascination with them. A part of you wondered if they made him yearn for the mother he’d never had and the closeness he’d missed out on, that unobtainable bond.
“You feed them? With those?”
“Mhm.” Nodding, you slowly lower your arms in favor of cupping under your breasts to lift them. The nipples are soft from the warmth of the water but as soon as the air hits them they start to gradually tighten, growing stiff right before your eyes. “The milk comes out of here so we hold them to our breast when it’s time to feed. Something like this, I suppose …”
You wouldn’t really know, having never nursed a babe before, but Durin doesn’t seem to mind your lack of firsthand experience. His gaze is transfixed to your bare little teats all the same, and he almost seems to subconsciously hunch closer as if to get a better look. You’re not exactly used to having someone’s full attention zeroed in on your breasts like this though and you quickly become embarrassed, starting to fidget, but that doesn’t deter him either.
He keeps leaning closer and closer, and you suddenly realize he’s aiming right for your left breast like a man enthralled when abruptly he stops. Seems to realize what he’s doing.
Sheepishly, he rolls his eyes up towards your face. “Can I …? Just to — try it.”
That’s not so strange a request for him to make, you try to tell yourself. He’d never gotten to experience it for himself, had likely never seen it before either, and something far, far back in the very darkest parts of his primordial animal brain may have craved it more than anything else. To latch and to suckle, to feed, was to know a special kind of peace that was completely unknown to him. Of course you recognized how dangerously close to the line of indecency you were inching now but …
“I don’t mind. I’m not lactating though, so nothing's going to come out no matter how hard you suck.”
A faltering breath slips out of him, belying his excitement. His eager anticipation. “That’s alright. I just want to see if it’s as … nice as it looks.”
Hands braced on the tiled floor of the bath, fingertips brushing against your hip, he lowers himself the rest of the way to come up even with your now loosely coiled teat. You can tell at just a glance that it’s still soft, malleable, when it was a bit too warm in here to make it tight and hard. His mouth hinges open revealing the sharp point of canines again and you start to feel faint. What if he bit you? He could really do some serious damage to the delicate flesh if he wanted to and yet …
You make no move to stop him as he closes the distance, sealing his lips around the tip of your breast, and you give an immediate, subtle jolt like he’d electrocuted you. The inside of Durin’s mouth is hot and wet, and you feel everything in startling clarity when he starts to work his jaws. Suction that pulls your nipple towards the back of his throat before easing up, the enthusiastic flicker of his tongue as it drags over the sensitive bud. Teeth gently worrying the areola to grip and better latch himself on. The nuzzle of his face when he buries his nose as far into the plushy give as he can without suffocating in it.
It was a lot of sensation all at once and you whimper a soft sound as you tip your chin to better watch him nurse from your tit. Or try to, anyway. You almost felt a little bad that you had no milk to offer him but he seems perfectly content just mouthing at you, eyes closed as if in blissful relief.
Unfortunately for you the rhythmic sucking does something awful to your cunt and you press your thighs together under the water in an attempt to stop yourself from squirming. It felt undeniably good to have his mouth on you like this and that horrifies you a great deal. Science wasn’t supposed to be pleasurable, you weren’t supposed to enjoy it. If you couldn’t even maintain your clinical impartiality now, at the very onset of this trying ordeal, then what did that mean for the rest of this so-called experiment?
You can’t quite find the wherewithal to put a stop to this farce though, and merely keep holding your tits above the water in offering to him. The forgotten teat feels lonesome and neglected, slowly stiffening to a finer point as if in sympathy of the treatment its twin was receiving, but you don’t dare reach up and stimulate it yourself. That would be going too far, somehow. A breach in your allegedly detached role here. You’d told Albedo you wouldn’t send him away if he came to you of his own accord, yes, but you also said you weren’t going to actively participate. If Durin wanted to try and breed you, you’d let him, yet …
“Ohhn!” You blurt the sound, entirely unbidden, when he catches the nipple in his mouth between his teeth. He doesn’t bite down though, thankfully, merely toying with it for a drawn out moment before letting go again.
Pulling back just enough to suck in a surprisingly ragged breath, Durin immediately lurches back in to reattach himself to the tip of your breast. Except this time he fumbles forward at the same time, practically crawling on top of you now, and you can’t help the way you gasp at his sudden ferocity. He’s hungry, starved, desperate for the nourishment only a mother can give, but you are regrettably without any to provide.
That almost manages to break your heart, and you find yourself cooing soft nothings into his hair as he clumsily clamors into your lap. Finally seating himself on your legs, Durin has to hunch even more dramatically to reach your nipple in this position but that doesn’t stop him either, just like nothing else up until now has. He’s forced to use his hands though, and he greedily palms at both of your tits to lift and squeeze them, pawing at you like a mindless animal. A stuttering, half smothered sob rattles out of him, quickly silenced by the meat of your breast filling his mouth again.
With your own hands free now, you reach up with one to palm the back of Durin’s head, appreciating the silky soft, fine hair under your fingers, while the other circles around his back to draw comforting patterns into his skin. His leathery wings twitch sensitively each time you brush against them, a little too big and awkwardly placed on his anatomy for you to avoid touching them entirely, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Over his shoulder, you can see his long, scaly tail aggressively whipping through the water behind him as much as you feel it moving against your legs.
After what feels like many minutes have come and gone in this manner, he at last brings his head up again with another desperate gasp. He’s panting, flushed and on the verge of tears when he shyly glances at your face, and you offer him a smile that you hope is reassuring.
“I’m … I’m sorry. This isn’t really … appropriate, is it?”
“It’s okay.” You tell him softly. “I don’t mind, and it seems like you really needed this. The only thing I’ll ask is that you show the other one some attention too, hm?”
He blinks. Slowly smiles, then practically grins in as much as he’s capable of grinning. You don’t have to ask him twice, that much is clear, and you hold your breath in your aching lungs when he bends down to bury his face in the meat of your neglected tit and latch onto the nipple.
As he sets in to work this one to straining attention, you glance down at the now abandoned breast to find the teat swollen and darkened with increased blood flow where it sticks out from between his grasping fingers. He’s practically got a death grip on you now and you aren’t so sure if you’ll ever manage to pry him off after this. At the rate he was going you weren’t even going to get to the breeding part …
That thought gives you a moment's pause. Was he really going to be satisfied with this if all you did was hold him and let him nurse all night? Would you be satisfied, for that matter? Even putting aside your discussion with Albedo, you couldn’t exactly deny that you were very slick between the legs now. You were just a little too sensitive, your breasts much too receptive to touch and friction for you to pretend like it wasn’t having any effect on you at all. But was it inspiring a similar response in him too?
Curious and eager, you slide the hand on his back down and around to drag along the curve of his stuttering ribs. He groans a distracted sound in response but doesn’t so much as question what you’re doing when you trace a path down the center of his body, skirting over his bellybutton (wait, why did he have one of those?) and straight into the thick patch of wiry curls on his groin. A little further and you find his cock where it bobs gently in the water. It’s not so soft anymore though and a strange thrill of delight sparks in your gut when you realize he’s hard, ready and waiting.
You wrap your hand around his girth and give it an experimental pump, making him twitch almost violently in response. Immediately letting up his voracious hold on your teat, Durin sits up to look down at himself in the water, panting to catch his breath.
“Wh - … what are you doing now?”
“Just testing something.” You murmur, offering his length another slow motion pump that has him whimpering and screwing his eyes shut at the sensation. Overly sensitive. Poor thing. “This is what men use to put babies in our stomachs. It, ah … goes inside of us, and yours seems to be working just fine as far as I can tell.”
“In - nghn! In - inside?”
“Mhm. Down here. Between my legs.” Reaching up, you grab one of his wrists and pry it off your breast so you can direct it under the water instead. Durin seems almost drunk on his feet, drowning in some heady, kaleidoscopic dream far removed from reality, but still, he doesn’t try to fight it. Just follows your direction, letting you guide him, until his fingers brush against the outer pudge of your labia.
He gives a tiny little jerk of surprise, eyes widening slightly, and you quickly understand why when he starts to feel over your cunt with curious, skittish fingertips. It was different from his own equipment and what he was sporting, and he evidently hadn’t realized that men and women were different in this way too. Maybe it would help him understand the mechanics a little better, give him something to conceptualize. And if he just so happened to knock your clit enough times in his curious mapping that you tipped right over the edge and came … well, you wouldn’t complain much about that at all.
Burn everything, you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d been this worked up, and just from having your tits sucked at that. It was madness.
“Will I really fit in … here?” He finally dares to ask, and you almost catch yourself laughing.
Durin wasn’t nearly big enough for fitting to be a problem — but when he experimentally flexes his hips forward, instincts apparently taking over, to send his cock bumping against your cunt lips you start to feel well and truly faint. You wanted it and you wanted it bad, but the ever looming threat of his seed taking root in you was still a sobering prospect. Albedo would be happy to have his answer but what would that leave you? Honestly you didn’t even want to think about it.
“You would, and quite easily too. It might not seem like it right now but our bodies were meant to come together like this. Do you … want to see?”
He doesn’t even really need to think about it, quickly bobbing his head in the affirmative. It was sweet, how attentive and transfixed on you he looked in that moment, eyes hazy and distant but unerringly locked upon you. It was enough to almost make you blush.
Gently, you give his shoulders a coaxing nudge until he picks up what you want, leaning back to give you some space. You reach for the ledge behind you and haul yourself up, warm water cascading down your body in heavy sheets that splash back into the pool. You’d never felt so much like a goddess of legend as you do in that moment, utterly naked and wet, primed for the attentions of your rapt acolyte who stares up at you in fascinated silence.
You don’t even make an attempt to cover yourself now as you sit down on the ledge of the bath and bring your feet up to brace wide on the tiles. Durin’s gaze naturally drops to the fleshy seam in your body, the soaked curls plastered to the mound of your cunt, and some distant spark of understanding seems to flash behind his eyes. He was starting to understand and with that enlightenment came the wanting, the yearning, the primal drive to sink himself into you straight down to the hilt and never leave your warm embrace.
Crawling closer to the side of the bath, he brings one hand up to carefully pet over your soaked hair. Just that small amount of touch from him makes your innards throb, begging to be stretched and pumped full, but you bite down on your lower lip to stop yourself from rushing him. Instead you simply watch him feel over you, caressing down the length of your swollen sex before coming back up to press into your labia, spreading them apart.
You can’t quite halt the gasp that rattles in your chest at the sensation of being bared so fully to his hungry gaze, knowing he could see each individual fold and crease inside your cunt, the delicate pearl of your clit and the excess of sticky slick that coats it all. You already knew you’d be slippery to the touch but he still runs a finger through the gossamer mess to test its consistency. Curious even now when he was staring down heaven. He really was Albedo’s brother after all.
“I see now,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “This part of you is naturally lubricated. So that’s how we fit together.”
You start to open your mouth to say something but Durin manages to catch you completely off guard when he abruptly shoves his finger into your pussy. It’s sudden and it’s rude, but the long neglected nerve endings all but sing in delight at the rush of pleasure inducing friction. Your knees buckle where they’re bent out on either side of you, toes curling into the tiles as you toss your head back with a low mmmmm! of satisfaction.
Unable to deny yourself the indulgence, you rock your hips up into his hand and settle into a slow, unhurried rhythm of fucking yourself on his outstretched digit. Durin watches you for a prolonged moment, observes, processes what he’s seeing, and then starts to move his wrist in time with your grinding motion. He doesn’t know what he’s doing enough to make it feel truly good for you but that’s alright. It still stokes something unbearably hot in you to have his attention like this, some part of his body stuffed inside yours. Even if it didn’t fill you half as much as his cock would, it was still nice. Pleasurable.
Gods, you wanted so badly to cum.
“Ahhn … Durin … feels good. You’re making me feel so good.”
He mutters something in response that you can’t quite make out over the pounding of your own heartbeat, not that it really mattered either way. Your baser urges have effectively taken over, hijacking your higher functioning mind for their own purposes, and it seemed to be the same for him too. Despite his lack of experience, his lack of knowledge, Durin’s body seems to innately know where to move and how to position itself, and he stands up in a rush of cascading water to do just that.
His long wings stretch out to either side with a shuddering motion that shakes most of the water droplets off the leathery membrane but he doesn’t even seem to notice he’s doing it, the full brunt of his attention fixed on the welcoming seam between your legs. Tentatively, he reaches out to grab hold of your waist while he lines himself up with your entrance. He can’t seem to draw a full lungful of breath anymore, softly panting and gasping as he stares down at himself, and you drop your chin to watch too. The ruddy pink glans winks up at you where its fleshy foreskin was drawn back to reveal the flushed slit and the clear ooze of arousal that beads there.
And your heart stops inside your chest the moment you see it. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten how to breathe. Durin was not only whole enough to have a fully functioning cock and balls that produced eager secretions, but he was also very unlikely to be shooting blanks. Call it a premonition or even woman's intuition if you liked, but there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that he was going to get you pregnant if you kept going.
“Wait.”
He twitches to an abrupt halt, already halfway through the motion of rolling his hips forward to sink himself inside you. His cock impotently flexes in the scant space between you and him, looking like it was stretching out for you with a mind of its own even as Durin questioningly lifts his wide blown eyes to your face.
“I’m sorry.” You rush to say, hating to see that kicked-puppy look directed at you because of something you’ve said or done. “I just … I don’t think I can do this. Not this way.”
“Oh. I - it’s alright.” He stammers, quickly prying his hands off your waist so he can take a polite step back in the sloshing pool. “I guess I was getting a bit carried away, huh? I hope I didn’t overstep too much. I’ll just … I’ll go.”
“No!” You reach out to snag his arm, stopping him before he can do more than start to turn. “You don’t have to do that. I want to keep going but … I think it might be safer if we approach this a different way.”
Durin clearly doesn’t understand what you mean and you quickly realize you’re just going to have to level with him.
“Do you remember what we were talking about earlier? If you and I could … have a baby?” At his hesitant nod, you go on. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t sure if we would be — compatible with each other. Biologically. But I don’t think that’s a risk I want to take right now. I’m not ready to become a mother yet, Durin. If you still want to have sex I’d be happy to continue. We have other options.”
He relaxes slightly at that, clearly not disinterested in what you were offering him. “What should I do?”
Releasing him, you slide down to stand with Durin in the pool of water before spinning in place to give him your back. You bend over then, reaching behind you to grab at the meat of your ass and pull, letting him have a good look at the puckerer of your rear entrance.
“You’re going to stick your cock right here. I can’t get pregnant this way, and we both get what we want out of this. Everyone’s happy.” Except, of course, maybe Albedo.
Durin’s brows shoot up in surprise though, looking down at you with clear wanting etched into his face, and yet he still hesitates. Uncertain. “Is that really okay? It seems less … elastic than the alternative.”
“Don’t worry about that. You’d be surprised at how much this can stretch.”
Feeling quite pleased with yourself for being so clever, you turn forward to glance at the convenient tray of assorted bottles sitting in easy arms reach. You’d noticed it right when you’d first entered the bath but had tried everything in your power to ignore it up til’ now.
Stretching for it, you drag it a little closer with a small scrape of metal against the tiles, picking up the nearest bottle and uncorking it to get a good sniff. You repeat this a few times until you catch the unmistakable whiff of olive oil in your nose, shooting him a quick grin over your shoulder.
Carefully dribbling some of the sticky substance onto your fingers, you reach back again and slip those digits into the cleft between your cheeks. You find your back entrance easily enough and smear the clinging liquid over the pucker, rubbing it into the skin while Durin watches on in rapt fascination. He practically burns a hole in your skin from staring so hard and that just makes you run even hotter, groaning a threadbare little sound when you start to test the give.
Slowly applying pressure, the tip of your finger just barely sinks into the vulnerable center of your ass, momentarily breaching the tight ring of muscle before you let up, allowing it to clench shut again. You do this once, twice, three times, and then finally slip your finger in up to the first joint. A heady sound tumbles from your mouth as you wriggle it around, coating the interior rim with lubricant and encouraging the hole to loosen for you. This was far from the first time you’d resorted to this particular method to avoid any unwanted consequences but it had been quite a while since you last engaged with someone like this. It was probably going to take some work to get yourself ready.
Your one saving grace was that Durin was not an overly well endowed man unlike a certain, hulkingly huge Grandmaster you knew. His cock matched his stature, far from small but nothing too unwieldy either. He’d fit as long as you made sure you were slippery enough to accommodate him.
Humming a quiet sound of anticipation, you carefully slide your finger out and bring your hand back around to dribble more of the handy lubricant onto it. You’re about to reach back to resume your stretching when you suddenly feel Durin’s hands descend upon your upturned ass, grabbing two eager handfuls and spreading you open. Jolting in surprise, you twist to look back at him just in time to watch the dragon swoop down and shove his face between your cheeks where he takes a long, wet swipe with his tongue right over the wrinkle of your entrance.
You squawk at the unexpected sensation, not having been prepared to feel him mouthing at you like that, but the sound quickly morphs into another low groan as he settles in to lap up the oil. Undoing all of your hard work, yes, but you like the way it feels a little too much to scold him for it. Not a good sign, all things considered.
“Ooohn, Durin … you don’t have to do that. The oil will suffice.”
He comes up off you with a whooshing breath, panting softly behind you. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. You look so — juicy like this. I think I’m starting to understand what Timaeus was talking about now …”
“That’s good.” You murmur, too distracted to give much thought to the topic of Timaeus and his long distance girlfriend at the moment.
Stretching your arm back, you find your entrance and start to carefully push in. But this time Durin helpfully keeps your cheeks spread, making the center of your entrance slacken and stretch, and you eagerly wedge the first two digits inside the fleshy little hole with a muted groan of pleasure.
And when you slowly withdraw them another moment later, Durin gently replaces your fingers with his own, prodding at your guts when he breaches the squeezing ring to keep your ass stuffed while you apply more oil. Back and forth, the two of you work in surprisingly harmonious tandem to get you ready for him, until you can’t take it anymore and your cunt is weeping excessively.
“Fuck,” you whine, fingers thrusting in out of your ass but it’s not enough. You need something bigger, thicker. Hotter. “I don’t think I can wait anymore, Durin. Can you stick it in?”
“I … can try.”
A short shuffle follows in which you pass the bottle of oil to him, instructing him to coat himself in the sticky substance before trying to insert it. Your fingers are removed for the last time and a heartbeat later you feel him nudging right up to you, slim thighs pressed to the backs of your wider, softer ones. Then the blunt head of him finds its way to your back entrance where it briefly docks, hesitating, before he starts applying pressure.
Your ass relents almost immediately and your body easily accepts the bulbous glans, twitching sensitively when it pops past the outer ring. The rest of him keeps coming on a relatively smooth glide, gradually forcing your hole to widen around the thickest part of him. And then he’s in, seated inside you as far as he can go. For a moment you see double, eyes crossing at the intense sensation of being so thoroughly plugged, impaled on the whole of his length, but even that seems to pale in comparison to what he’s feeling.
Devolving into a near sobbing mess of whimpers and whines, Durin fervently clutches at you like a lifeline while he sways unsteadily behind you. His hips are locked in place and he seems unable to move, but you can tell he desperately wants to. It’s likely too much all at once. Too many sensations, too much sweltering heat encompassing his cock, too tight of a squeeze. He’s utterly helpless buried inside your ass like this and, seeing that you have no other choice, you stiffly begin to rock against him.
At the same time you slide a hand between your legs so you can rub your cunt while the other clutches the edge of the bath so hard it hurts. You whisper heated reassurances at him, telling him what a good job he’s doing, but it seems to do more harm than good. His fingers dig into you where he’s holding on for dear life with enough force to leave behind bruises in their wake, his stuttering gasps becoming even more dramatic. You start to worry he’s going to pass out.
But then you feel it. The intense throb of his cock deep inside your ass. The enthusiastic flex. He was getting ready to cum. It’s already bearing down on him with a force he likely had no concept of prior to this and he lurches behind you, hands scrabbling for purchase on your stomach, your hips.
He shoots off so abruptly it catches you unawares even though you’d been half expecting it. Your mouth warbles open as if to moan in sheer, uninterrupted ecstasy but nothing comes out. You can’t breathe. Every single muscle in your lower body is locked in dizzying tension, so tightly wrought it makes tears spring up in your eyes. Your legs nearly crumple and give out under you, fingers working furiously over your clit and —
You cum too, shuddering so uncontrollably you collapse onto the ledge of the bath where you can freely judder and shake through the cresting spasms. Durin follows you down, pressing his face into your back to seethe — no, to sob his relief into your damp skin. It’s too much for him, and not nearly enough for you. You want more almost as soon as you finish trembling but … that was a dangerous game to play, if you weren’t careful. It would be oh so easy just to give in to temptation, invite him to settle between your thighs and encourage him to cum as much as he wants, until he has nothing left to give. You couldn’t afford that price though.
Slowly gathering yourself, you carefully push up to twist your head around, peering over your shoulder. You almost take your eye out on one of his damn horns. “Are you alright, Durin?”
After a moment’s thought he nods, although he still refuses to lift his face from your back.
“It’s alright if you still need a minute. That seemed … intense for you. But we have to get ourselves cleaned up soon, okay? I’m sure someone else is going to want this room eventually.”
Sniffling rather sadly, he shifts on top of you and moves to straighten up. “I’m sorry …”
“It’s nothing to apologize for. As long as you enjoyed yourself that’s all that matters.” Never minding the fact that it had only taken a few minutes, two at the most, for him to find his release and he hadn’t done a lot of moving in that time either, so you weren’t sure how much he’d really gotten out of it. The only thing that had saved you was how tightly wound you’d been after all the build up and edging leading into him actually putting it in.
You were happy to let it slide though, mindful of the fact that it was his first time and he’d likely had no idea what he was getting into. It made sense that he wouldn’t last long but … now that the high was starting to wear off you were beginning to have some second thoughts about all this. You’d had sex with the miracle creation, sure, but not in a way that would tell Albedo one or another if he was virile or not.
He didn’t need to know that though. You could just tell him you’d gone through with it and when nothing ever came of the coupling he’d surely let it go, write it off as a small failure in a much larger success, and move on with his life. You would do the same and so would Durin. Neither of you ever had to even speak of this again for as long as you might live. It’s not as if the captain was going to personally examine you to see if you were telling the truth.
Except — you quickly realize it’s not going to be quite that easy when the dragon simply refuses to let you go. He clings to you as if he’s glued on even when you try to slip out from under him, ignoring your protests. You can still feel his hot, hot seed settling deep in your guts as you struggle to unlatch him but it’s no use. He wasn’t just clingy, but needy!
Oh, this was just turning into quite the predicament, wasn’t it?
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Days pass after the unseemly incident in the baths. Durin remains attached to you at the hip. Albedo does not seem convinced of your story in the slightest. Your life feels like it’s spiraling out of control.
Weeks pass after the unseemly incident in the baths. Something strange starts to happen. You just feel a little sick at first, like you were coming down with a cold, and then the bouts of nausea hit you. Your body doesn’t feel right, but the doctors don’t see anything wrong with you. In a final bid for some kind of answer, you quietly visit a midwife at her home and have her perform an exam that comes back quite negative. You weren’t pregnant, just as you’d thought. Life goes on.
A month passes after the unseemly incident in the baths. Something is really wrong now. At first you think you’re just gaining a little weight from the stress and the near daily meals Durin insists on so he can make googly eyes at you over the sticky roast on your plates. But your stomach seems to be the only thing growing and when you touch your hands to it, the protrudence is firm under your palms. Unrelenting. Like the pressure of something inside you was building, forcing it up and out in the only available direction. Once again the nurses and the midwives have no answers for you.
Two months pass after the unseemly incident in the baths, and suddenly your stomach is too round to hide from Captain Albedo’s attention anymore. He’s very interested in what’s happening to you, asking a never ending series of questions — when did you first notice these changes, what time of day do you feel at your sickest, what have you been eating, are you still sleeping, on and on, and on. You’re not exactly happy about it but, having no other choice when every other avenue has already failed you, you finally give in to his request of performing his own examination. He may not have been a doctor anymore than you were, but if anyone could figure out what was wrong with you it was probably him.
Two months and six days after the unseemly incident in the baths Albedo tells you you’re pregnant.
But not really.
“I’m sorry, what?” You demand, shock coloring your voice to such a higher pitch it doesn’t even really sound like you anymore.
“Well,” he starts, perfectly calm and collected as if he weren’t delivering the most confusing, life altering news ever conceived by mortal minds. “You are indeed carrying something to term but it’s not a baby. It’s also not in your womb, hence why none of the other professionals were able to provide an accurate diagnosis.”
You impotently sputter at that, struggling for a solid minute to get your mouth and your brain working properly again. “Then what the hell is it? A garden gnome?”
“I’m not sure you’re going to like the answer.”
If only your stomach weren’t so round and cumbersome, you would have leapt right up off the exam table and throttled the life out of Albedo’s perfect, beautiful neck. He was going to pay dearly for this once you managed to get back on your feet.
“Just tell me what it is so I can figure out how to get rid of it. Please.”
Expression softening slightly at the desperation in your voice, Albedo starts to peel off his sterile gloves. “I’m afraid you’re carrying a brood of eggs, my dear assistant. Please don’t look at me like that, I don’t have an explanation for it either. I wouldn’t have thought it possible but … the facts don’t lie. I take it you stretched the truth when you relayed that story to me about your time spent in the baths?”
You grumble something very unkind under your breath but Albedo merely hums his agreement with the sentiment, not at all bothered by your fib apparently.
“It’s certainly an unexpected turn of events,” he goes on. “But it’s rather interesting too, isn’t it? You should have long since expelled whatever Durin left in you and yet it looks to me like your lower intestine is working like some kind of makeshift womb. I can’t be sure yet if it’s a potential byproduct of my alchemy or … perhaps my mother’s, if any lingering traces of it still remained from Durin’s heart. However there is good news.”
Feeling numb and detached from your own body, you peer up at him in pure befuddlement. “And what’s that?”
“I’m confident that the eggs you’re carrying aren’t fertilized. They likely never came into contact with any zygotes to begin the process of true reproduction. It’s just that, for some reason, something in Durin’s semen tricked your biological cues into thinking it had been successfully impregnated. You’re essentially carrying an empty clutch.”
Your head feels like it’s spinning. Were you about to throw up again? This couldn’t possibly be happening. But he was right. That was good news. You’d been worried enough about being a mother of one, never mind a whole brood.
“Okay. That’s great. I can deal with a few empty eggs. How are we going to get them out?”
A distant flash of sympathy sparks behind Albedo’s cool, lake-blue eyes. “I’m afraid we don’t. They’ve rearranged the structure of your organs to create the faux womb they’re currently housed in which means I wouldn’t have any idea how to safely remove them. We’ll have to wait for them to come out naturally.”
“Oh.”
“Also,” He hedges. “Just so you’re aware, it’s more like a few dozen. It was difficult to get an accurate count but … I’m sure you can tell by the size of your stomach that you’re quit — full, at the moment.”
You shoot a horrified look down at your round belly, nightmarish images flashing through your mind in a dizzying rush. Panicky jitters quickly start to swell up and you awkwardly shove up onto your hands, trying to escape what’s happening to you. It’s no use though. You were trapped in your own body. There was no way out of this, it was already too late. Pregnant, but not really. The tears are streaming down your face before you even realize it.
Looking visibly uncomfortable now, Albedo carefully sidles up next to the exam table so he can gently place a hand on your quaking shoulder. “I’m not going to say it’s alright because I know you won’t believe that to be true. I understand that this situation seems awfully bleak right now but … if I may speak freely, I have to admit that you probably made the right choice even if it was not what I asked of you.”
Blinking through the mist in your eyes, you turn your head up at him in confusion. “H - huh?”
“Your — approach with Durin. If you’d had intercourse the proper way I’m not so sure your uterus could have handled the strain. And that’s not even mentioning the birthing process. A human's cervix isn't exactly built for passing eggs.”
You laugh, not because it’s funny but because you have no idea what else to do. How should you react to the knowledge that by letting that damn dragon fuck you up your ass you may have saved yourself from an agonizing death? At least your back end could stretch wide enough to hopefully pass the things without much lasting damage. You already knew that from past experience.
In fact you’d even told Durin that. You’d be surprised at how much it can stretch. Maybe … just maybe this wasn’t as bad as you’d first thought.
That slim, minuscule little crumb of hope is the only thing that gives you the strength to keep going in the following days.
Two months and one week after the unseemly incident in the baths, you sit Durin down and explain what’s happening to you. He’s understandably surprised, having never seen a pregnant woman before, or at least not one he recognized as such, and so he’d never made the connection in his mind that everyone else already had. Kaeya was still teasing you every time you crossed paths with him, always asking you who the lucky father was. You still hadn’t quite figured out how you were going to explain this away once you were rid of the eggs, but you had half a mind to take one of them and chuck it right at the Cavalry Captain’s smug face.
Durin, however, is nothing if not sympathetic, almost sickeningly so. He clearly feels guilty for your current state and the role he played in it, yet he quickly accepts that no amount of apologizing is going to fix this mess or undo any of it.
Instead he steps up in an unexpectedly responsible way, constantly checking on you and ensuring you have enough to eat, giving you back massages when the added weight you’re carrying puts too much stress on your joints. He even starts to bring you things, stuff that you rightfully assume are mere gifts at first, but you soon catch on that it’s a bit more than that. A seemingly never ending supply of blankets, pillows, shawls, sheets, cozy sweaters and even a few stuffed toys on occasion, when he happens upon one he thought you might like. He wasn’t making peace offerings, you realize with no shortage of alarm.
He was giving you nesting materials.
You’re not so sure about that though, unconvinced that it would do anything for you that your perfectly comfortable bed wouldn’t. Despite your misgivings about this entire situation, and him by extension, you still didn’t want to completely spit in the face of his kindness. He hadn’t intentionally or maliciously done this to you, after all. Technically you’d done it to yourself.
So one afternoon, when you’ve amassed quite the collection, you take the time to set up a nice little nest in the corner of your room in the barracks with all the gifts he’d given you. It probably wasn’t the most ideal place to birth your clutch but it was just going to have to do.
And life goes on, confoundingly.
Just shy of three months after the unseemly incident in the baths, you awake early in the morning to a terrible cramp in your gut.
It’s so intense, so immediately violent, that you practically fly right out of your bed with a sudden lurch. The debilitating pain stops you in your tracks though and you freeze there, just like that, in an awkwardly splayed position, halfway through the motion of rolling to your feet. You’re wide awake despite having been dead to the world only seconds prior and you frantically try to think your way through this.
Your body seems to be trying to seize in on itself with a slow, pulsing spasm that starts near the middle of your spine and gradually works its way down which you can only assume meant one thing. It was time. But you were nowhere near ready, not mentally and certainly not physically.
Sadly you don’t seem to have a say in the matter, and another deep, agonizing cramp works through you in the next moment, assuring you that there would be no putting this off. The eggs were coming out now.
Everything quickly turns into a confusing, disoriented blur after that realization. Unimaginable pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt consumes your conscious mind until it’s all you can think about, all you can feel, all you can taste. You desperately try to breathe through it but the blinding spasms of muscle you didn’t even know existed slowly working the clutch down towards the only way out steals the oxygen right from your lungs. It feels like you’re going to be sick everywhere but you never quite manage to throw up. Instead you sweat profusely and gasp for air like a beached fish, ripping into the sheets with your clawed fingers.
At some point you seem to have wet yourself but when you struggle up into a sitting position to look down at the bed you see not the seeping stain of piss. Rather you’re greeted by … by some kind of thick, clear goopy substance that has more than a passing resemblance to jelly. You understand that it’s coming out of you, making a mess of you and everything close enough to come into contact with it, and yet it’s impossible to truly reconcile it in your mind. Durin had certainly done a number on you.
What feels like several hundred lifetimes passes by but you know it can’t have been more than a half hour of laboring at the very most. The sun is still rising over the horizon to cast an increasingly brighter glow through the only window in the room, spotlighting the scene playing out on your bed, when you feel the first egg start to breach.
It’s an excruciating thing to experience, that horrible slow motion pressure forcing your ass to gradually give way and split open until it feels like it’s going to rip you in two. The egg is too wide though, too firm, and it sinks back inside your body where it seems to hover right at the precipice of freedom. You toss your head against the pillows, fighting every roaring instinct in your body not to scream yourself hoarse and raw. Not here, not now. You couldn’t have every single knight in the barracks come running just to find you in this awful state.
So you clench your teeth and push, putting everything you have into expelling this burden as quickly as possible. The egg starts to breach again, shoving the rim of your asshole right to its breaking point. You’re sure you’re going to pass out before you can deliver even one of these damn things but you keep trying, bearing down as hard as you can.
And it works. It’s no quick or easy process by any means but the egg thankfully keeps coming this time. Wider and wider your poor little hole stretches until it at last manages to accommodate what seems to be the widest part of its circumference. You have to keep working at it for another moment longer before you manage to get it far enough out that physics takes care of the rest.
Finally the egg pops right out of you with a noisy wet slurp as more of that mysterious clear goop follows after it in a rush. Your ass wildly contracts in the aftermath, desperate to return to its usual size and shape, but it just can’t. Not after that. And, perhaps most surprising of all, the sensation of your now gaping hole unable to close registers in the deepest, darkest animal part of your brain as being somehow pleasurable. It doesn’t feel good, not truly, but … you’d never felt yourself so terribly stretched out that the muscle wouldn’t even snap back into place. How must you look right now, spread out shamefully on your back with your nightgown half ripped off and your asshole open wide, ready and waiting?
You couldn’t think about that right now though, especially not when it was exactly that which had found you in this predicament in the first place.
Heaving at the brief moment of reprieve, you carefully roll yourself upright to take a good look at what just came out of you. The egg sitting on the ruined sheets between your shamelessly spread legs is not half as big as it had felt, which chagrin’s you a great deal. It was smooth on the exterior shell but even from where you were sat you could make out a faint, violet-blue hue covering its circumference that appeared to create a visual effect of … scales? You’d never seen one like this before. Although you supposed, in all fairness, dragon eggs weren’t exactly a common sight.
The contractions start up again before you can give that any further thought, and you helplessly groan as you sink back down to the bed. You quickly realize that passing the first egg had not made the process any easier, and you have no choice but to labor through the next delivery much the same way. Push, hiss, push. Push, gasp, push. That rhythmic pattern seems to help somewhat, and you even grab under your knees to hold them up to further aid the process.
Finally the second egg escapes the clinging grip of your ruined asshole and falls to the bed where it joins its twin in the mess of mystery goo. The noise they make when they click together assures you that Albedo had been correct and they were indeed empty. That was one good thing in all of this.
The process repeats itself and you soon feel the next one coming, bracing for the worst of it. Unfortunately no amount of that sticky secretion seems to make it any easier to push them out and repetition doesn’t either. Your ass is beyond destroyed, gaping wide and sensitively flexing around nothing at all, and yet the next egg still somehow manages to stretch it out even wider. It’s well beyond what should be physically possible, and you can’t understand why they’re not simply sliding right through the wrecked ring of muscle now. It doesn’t make sense.
You don’t have the brain power necessary to spare to think too deeply about that too deeply though, panic surging up in your tight chest when the third egg halts its descent, stuck half way out and half way in. It hovers there for a horrible stretch of seconds and then — sucks back up inside when the contraction lulls. Despite your best attempts to stay calm you start to hyperventilate. You can feel that firm round mass pressing on your entrance, the tip of it barely breaching your body, but it’s stuck. Even trying to push doesn’t do any good.
The only choice you have is to wait for the next full bodied cramp to come, and you spend the following few minutes stiffly writhing on top of your bed, gasping frantically for air.
When you finally start to feel your guts contracting again you almost sob in relief. Bearing down in time with the pulse, the egg starts to slip out again. More and more your ass opens up around its girth until you at last work the widest part of it through. You take a quick break then to breathe, dizzy from the effort as much as the sensation of having all of your most sensitive nerves pressed in on. With one final push and a smothered cry, the egg breaks free to hit the sheets in a fresh deluge of clear fluid, soaking into the mattress.
Allowing yourself a moment to rest, you lie there and try to catch your breath. This was insane. You couldn’t do it. You’d only birthed three so far and Albedo had told you there were at least a few dozen. It was going to kill you before you could ever know relief.
Another contraction abruptly starts up, coming in shorter intervals now, and you allow the panic to take hold as you gingerly roll off the bed to your feet. You wanted to flee, escape what was happening to you. Everything hurts. Your ass won’t close even now when you’re struggling upright, death grip on the back of the wooden headboard to steady yourself, and you were positively soaked from the waist down. It’s easily the worst thing you’ve ever experienced, but you know you’ll just have to power through it.
So you crouch, dropping to the balls of your feet and hike your nightgown up with one hand while the other squeezes the bed frame so hard the wood begins to creak. You push like that, hoping gravity will help the process even a little bit, but it doesn’t.
You still spend the next few minutes laboring through the birthing process while the egg slowly makes its way down to your ruined sphincter where it gradually breaches, sinks back in, breaches again. The toll it’s taking on your body is immense and your pussy aches in neglect, weeping excitedly despite how much you wished it wasn’t. There’s simply too much pressure on your guts though, the bulk of the eggs pressing in on your cunt through the thin wall that separates one from the other. You don’t think you were going to cum like this, such an absurd thought to even have given the situation you were in, but …
The fourth egg finally pops free with one last push, clattering onto the floor underneath you, and the subsequent spasms throughout your body does indeed feel strangely orgasmic. Your gaping, sticky asshole flexes impotently and your pussy mirrors it as if in sympathy. It almost manages to shock you when you were already shellshocked and exhausted, reeling from the overwhelm of everything that’s happening to you. It was a lot to wrap your head around and the next contraction was already starting.
Snarling a bestial sound, you pivot around and crawl towards the nest of blankets in the corner of your room. You quickly rip the nightgown off your sweat soaked body, tossing it aside as you kneel in the center of the fluffy mass. Your nipples are hard and straining in the cool morning air, and you glance down at yourself to see your stomach still quite round where it extends off the front of your body, even more pronounced than your tits. You really did look pregnant and you feel immense shame at how much that thought actually excites you. The psychological effects of carrying Durin’s clutch had clearly done something irreversible to your brain.
On your knees like that, you push and push to work the next egg down, quietly sobbing over the fifteen or so minutes it takes to expel its mass from your body. The immediate relief you feel once it finally pops free nearly bowls you over, but just as every other time it’s regretfully short lived.
You lie down on your back then, looking over your tits and your belly for a long, uncertain moment before hesitantly reaching between your legs. Your arm has to curl at an awkward angle with your stomach in the way but you find your clit soon enough and desperately start to rub it, thinking maybe this will help. Praying that it might distract you from the pain, at least.
Pussy swollen and sensitive, you’re surprised at how your body still has the capacity to feel any amount of pleasure given the constant, prolonged abuse it’s suffered. But it does work to some extent, you’re glad to find, and it doesn’t take long at all for you to cum while the sixth egg gradually forces its way down towards your wide open asshole.
You’re unsure if it’s a result of all the pressure on your guts, the sickening girth that forces your cunt into a tight squeeze as it passes, or if it’s the sensation of your back entrance unable to close and gaping shamelessly, but the orgasm rocks through you with such violence your eyes start to roll in your head. It doesn’t do much to mitigate the discomfort you’re feeling but it does take a minuscule amount of the edge off, and for that you were grateful.
Much to your surprise, however, the added spasms in your cunt seem to push back on the egg, giving your body extra pressure to push it out with. The tip of it starts to slip out, keeps coming, your ass stretches around the thickest part of its circumference and — it pops right through the loosened ring with an audible, wet slurp.
Groaning wildly through tightly clenched teeth, you keep rubbing your pussy with increasing desperation, reminding yourself that you were already halfway through this trying ordeal. Six eggs lay scattered around your room in the barracks; three on the bed, one on the floor and two were now safely nestled in the sheets you’d made your nest with. Maybe you could do this after all, and it wouldn’t kill you in the process.
And that is exactly how Durin finds you.
Spread out on your back with one hand tugging at your achingly stiff nipple while the other fingers your cunt open, digits working fervently to the rhythmic soft, sticky clicks while you labor through the delivery of the seventh egg.
He stops dead in the doorway, just staring at you in alarm. But you can’t quite bring yourself to stop, the next egg already starting to breach your stretched asshole, so you just keep working your fingers even as you turn your head away in shame.
A terse moment of relative silence passes over the room in which you fully expect him to turn tail and beat a hasty retreat. This was hardly the sort of scene most men would willingly insert themselves into, far more keen on the making of babies than the birthing of them.
Instead you hear a faint shuffle, the click of the door and then the lock sliding into place followed by the purposeful approach of his boots on the wood floor. No small amount of surprise registers in the back of your mind and you tense, unintentionally sucking the crowning egg back up inside you. You frantically whimper and whine as you snap your attention back around, horrified at what this interruption means for you.
Finding Durin kneeling down next to you gives you pause though and you peer up at him in question, struggling to catch your breath. He gives you a quick look over with your full tits, round belly and the mess between your legs. Your fingers still stuffed inside your cunt up to the knuckles but no longer moving. Just resting there.
His attention slowly comes back up to your face then, taking in your sweat coated skin, the matted hair. And he smiles. A small, tentative grin, but a grin all the same.
“I would have come sooner if I’d known it was time. Have you been … at it for very long?”
Huffing and puffing under your breath, you crane your neck back to glance up at the window over the bed. The sun was so bright it seemed to blind you.
You shake your head. “No. Only an hour or so. They come fairly quick, close together but …” A pained grunt interrupts you, hissing when the next contraction starts and you feel the egg begin to crown again. Oh, you really did not want an audience for this. “They, nnghn! They get … stuck sometimes. It’s hard to push them out all the way before they go … oohnn, back in. Aaghhn! W - what are you … doing here, Durin?”
“The morning assembly came and went, and you didn’t show up. Albedo was going to check on you himself but I insisted that I wanted to do it.” Pausing, he sends another slow look over your tits, your belly. Taking it all in. “Can I help you? I feel awful seeing you like this.”
“I’m, oohh … not sure what you could do. Birthing is a — one person sport, I’m afraid.”
You attempt to laugh, hoping some levity might ease the thick fog of tension that hangs over the room, but it doesn’t work. The breached egg slides further down the canal, forcing your ass open wide. It slips back a centimeter, hovers there for another excruciating moment, and then starts coming again. It was ready now.
Smothering the scream that tries to rip its way out of your throat, you throw your head back into the mound of pillows and sheets, frozen in place by the swelling pain. It takes everything you have just to focus on pushing, fingers forgotten inside your squeezing cunt, but Durin is surprisingly quick to jump into action.
He rips his right glove off and then reaches down to join your stilled hand between your legs. Rather than pulling your digits out first, he merely shoves his in right next to yours and suddenly you have two sets of fingers wedging your cunt open. You lurch at the sensation of both your holes being forced to stretch wide, rocking helplessly on your back where the cumbersome size of your stomach keeps you prone.
The egg was almost completely out now, helped in no small part by the added pressure on your guts, and you shudderingly bring your head up to glance down at yourself. You give it one last push and the round mass slides free, landing in the blankets. In the same breath your pussy erupts and you disbelievingly watch as you squirt all over the place, soaking Durin’s sleeve as much as the nest itself. It keeps coming too, one deluge after another, each weaker than the last while your pussy wildly contracts, until it finally slows to a mere dribble.
That was —
“Woah.” He breathes, evidently as shocked as you are. “Is that … supposed to happen?”
“I don’t know. But don’t stop. Please. Keep going.”
Your frantic begging snaps him out of it, and together the two of you work your cunt over the following minutes until you start to feel the next egg. You’d delivered eight already, there couldn’t be that many left, surely?
It doesn’t feel that way though, especially when your asshole starts to breach again. You cling to him wildly, mindless in your suffering, while he tries his best to talk you through it. But anything he says is utterly lost in the deafening sound of your heart in your ears, meaningless in the agonizing process that was not getting any easier.
The ninth egg finally joins the others after much laboring on your part, and Durin gently removes his fingers from your soaked cunt so he can gather them up. He moves them further down in the nest to ensure you had enough room for what you sorely hoped were the last few left. You were exhausted and you didn’t know how much more of this you could take.
He doesn’t immediately return to you though, taking a moment instead to shrug out of his jacket, his shirt, and then finally his boots and slacks. You’re quite surprised to find him suddenly naked too, your mind momentarily drifting back to the baths, but you don’t get the chance to question him.
The next contraction starts up, making you seeth, and Durin hurries back to your side. Except this time he lays down with you, careful not to put any pressure on your stomach even as he lowers his face to your breast where he latches onto the straining nipple. You squawk your surprise at him, automatically bringing your hand up to slap against his forehead and shove him off. An unexpectedly intense cramp seems to drain the energy from your arm though and you have no choice but to give in, panting heavily while he suckles rather contentedly at your teat.
His topmost hand reaches across your chest then to briefly squeeze the opposite breast before sliding down over the curve of your belly. He takes a moment to simply caress you, feeling over the potrudance almost lovingly, affectionately, and you can’t help but wonder if he can feel the firm outline of the remaining eggs still inside you. For better or worse you weren’t quite brave enough to test it yourself, fearful of what you might find if you put a hand to your belly before this was over.
So you simply let Durin do as he pleases while you focus on working the egg through the canal to your stretched loose entrance. His mouth is distracting in a way that you can’t decide whether it’s good or bad, but you don’t have the breath to chide him for it even if you’d wanted to.
You feel it then, your hole starting to breach, the egg crowning, and you seethe an animalistic sound as you push, body straining to finish this horrible task it’s been burdened with. His fingers slide down off your middle at the harried sound and slip into the space between your legs where he takes a moment to feel over your puffy, swollen cunt. That does not appear to be his objective though, and he reaches further down to lightly run his fingers around the wide rim of your asshole where the egg is slowly coming out.
If you could you would have cursed him and his entire existence, making do instead with softly crying out for mercy. You even pray to the Anemo Archon, asking him to do something, anything, to take away this blinding pain. He doesn’t seem to be listening though, or your pleas merely fall on unsympathetic ears. Either way you’re forced to feel every little thing, the stretching, the pressure, the excess slick of that jelly-like substance which splurts out of you once you’ve finally managed to pass the egg.
You’re utterly disoriented in the aftermath. Ten down. Only a few more to go.
But Durin’s fingers haven’t retreated from your gaping asshole yet and you squeal a wordless sound of protest when he rudely thrusts two of the digits inside. There’s no resistance, no pushback. Your ass feels as slick and malleable as your pussy does now, and he’s free to work you over as enthusiastically as he wants. You can’t do anything to stop it when he starts to sloppily fuck you with his fingers. The next contraction begins and your sphincter uselessly tries to squeeze down to push him out but it’s futile. The muscle was totally ruined.
He just keeps going, entirely undeterred, even going so far as to slip a third finger past the weakly clinging rim to really stuff your ass with them. You beg him to stop, sniffling sadly even while the next egg gradually works its way down towards where he’s got you plugged.
It’s only when he seems to feel its mass pressing in on his fingers does he finally pull them out to a wet, messy slurp. Your asshole feels like it’s on fire when it opens up wide again, allowing the egg to crown. Eyes rolling and teeth gnashing, you bear down on it as hard as you can until the widest part of its circumference is through and it’s half sticking out. You’re sure it’s going to suck back in where it will wait until the next contraction but you will it to expel, struggling just to draw air into your lungs.
At last it comes loose and falls to the sheets where Durin carefully nudges it off to the side. You hiss in relief, going boneless on top of the mound to rest for just a moment before you have to do it all again. One more, maybe two. You were so close now.
Durin is saying something then but you can’t make out the words, blinking out of your tired stupor to glance in his direction. He’s abandoned your puffy teat now and has sat up, peering down at you with concern and sympathy reflected in his pinched expression.
“Wha - at?”
“I said I’m going to roll you onto your side. I think this might help.”
You’re not so sure about that, unconvinced that anything would help at this point, yet you have no energy to argue with him. You just let him do it, groaning when he carefully gets his hands under you and eases you over to face the wall.
He situates himself behind you then, pressing his body flush against the line of your back. You figure out what he’s doing quickly enough when he reaches down to grab at the meat of your ass, gripping and tugging to spread your cheeks apart. Alarm is a hot livewire in your chest as you weakly attempt to shove up onto your elbow, already sucking in a breath to tell him not to do it.
You don’t quite make it in time though, and you squeal when the head of his cock easily slips inside your asshole with very little friction to show for it. It really does feel like you have a second pussy now, so wrecked beyond repair that it simply takes whatever it’s given without complaint.
Durin softly shushes you while you proceed to sob, lamenting every single choice that landed you here in this situation. He doesn’t stop what he’s doing though, smoothly driving himself in you straight up to the hilt where he remains wedged for a moment. The brief, fleeting kisses he rains down on your temple and hair don’t mean much of anything to you in that moment but you’re fully at his mercy like this. Even if you’d wanted to fight him off you were too round, too cumbersome, too exhausted for it to do you any good.
So you don’t even try, simply whimpering under your breath when he slides his hand down to grab under your top knee, lifting it from the other. His long, serpentine tail comes up as well to wind around your limb and help hold it in place, dark scales softly scraping your skin. He starts to move then, instincts taking over to guide the sedate thrust of his hips as he fucks up into you from behind. Your ass takes it without incident, greedily sucking him in deeper and deeper until it feels like he’s tickling the lower half of your ribs. So deep. So very, very deep.
Even when the next contraction starts up and you snivel, trying to seize in on yourself, he just keeps working his cock in and out, in and out, wheezing softly against your back. Crying out as he starts to pick up the pace, really driving into you now, you lift your head to glance down at the lurid spread he’s got you in. Your tits look full and heavy where they rest on your body, shifting with each motion, and your stomach still appears quite fertile, only slightly deflated. You’re all soft and fleshy, like some kind of goddess of virility and conception, someone who may have been worshipped in another place and time.
You realize then, in a far off, dreamy sort of way, why Durin couldn’t seem to control himself any longer even though you were still laboring. You looked so warm and inviting. Motherly. Even if it was another faux pregnancy he wanted to plant his seed in you, again and again, and you … well, you would have been lying if you said you weren’t enjoying this just a little bit.
He feels good moving inside of you, much better than the first time when he was so overwhelmed that he froze, unable to so much as roll his pelvis into yours. Even when the egg gradually moves down your aching passageway he just continues to fuck your ass to the rhythmic soft, sticky squelch of your body readily accepting him with each upward slide.
The first time the tip of his cock bumps against the incoming egg you feel him jolt, evidently surprised to feel its presence. But he simply adapts, switching to shorter and shorter strokes while it works its way to the end of you. It’s only when that firm mass is right at your entrance, ready to breach, that he finally pulls out completely.
And to your reeling shock, the egg pops right out to follow after him, falling into the space between the two of you. Screwing your eyes shut, you groan a deeply tortured sound when Durin immediately shoves himself back up inside you again, encouraging the clinging slick of birth out of you with the steady motion of his cock. He gasps his pleasure into your shoulder, clinging to you so fervently you can’t shake the feeling of being trapped.
But then, another moment later, yet another contraction bears down on you, and you suck in a ragged breath.
“It’s coming.” You blurt, blindly grabbing at anything you can reach, the blankets under you or his arm where it’s locked across your front. “Another egg. There’s still one more.”
Durin reassuringly coos at you in response but he’s hardly convincing in that harrowing stretch of seconds wherein you realize that this ordeal is still not over. This would be the thirteenth. You couldn’t believe you’d actually carried that many inside of you this whole time.
Sinking your nails into the skin of his forearm hard enough to draw blood, you hiss back at him over your shoulder. “You’re dead as soon as I’ve recovered enough strength to choke the life right out of you. Remember that.”
Yelping a startled sound, the dragon ducks his face into your shoulder where he can hide from your wrath but still, even now, he doesn’t stop fucking into your ass. You viciously seethe at that, forcing yourself to release your hold on him so you can reach down to play with your cunt instead. Glancing down at yourself while you do it, you watch your fingers move over your painfully swollen clit and just beyond that you can make out the smooth glide of his cock where it pumps at your back entrance. He’s equally as coated in the mysterious slick as you are but it doesn’t seem to bother him one bit, nor does it discourage him.
He clearly enjoys the warm embrace of your asshole around his cock far too much to let that or the descending egg stop him. Same as before he keeps going until he feels it bearing down on him, your inner sleeve so stretched out now that you barely have to push. Durin shortens his thrusts, jabbing shallowly at your guts for an extended beat until he has no choice but to pull out.
The egg slips out hot on his trail to another rush of goopy lubricant but it sticks at your puffed up rim when it’s half of the way out. You choke on some mindless animal sound, breath coming out in quick, short bursts as you work your clit over harder, faster. It’s a horrifying thought but you can tell you’re about to cum again. You’d lost track of how many times it’s been now, far more concerned about keeping track of the eggs, and your cunt throbs in protest, just as exhausted as the rest of you.
There’s no stopping it though. You’re hyper aware of every single muscle tightening, every single nerve ending buzzing with the pent up kinetic energy. What you hoped was the final egg starts to sink back in then, forcing your asshole to stay wide open around the thickest part of it, and you outright sob. Take a deep, grounding breath and bear down on it. The round mass starts to slide out again, further and further and —
It finally pops out with one last squelch, leaving you reeling at not only the immediate, all encompassing relief that surges in but also how very empty you feel. You’d done it. Thirteen eggs and you’d laid every single one of them.
You’re so caught up in staring down at the mess between your legs, the final egg sitting innocuously just below your ass, that you almost don’t even notice your tits are leaking. It takes a prolonged, disoriented moment for your gaze to focus in on the tips of your breasts where tiny, beading droplets were slowly dribbling from your nipples. The entire world seems to fall out from underneath you. That didn’t make any sense. You weren’t actually pregnant.
“Oh.” Durin squeaks as he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re looking at. “Albedo told me this might happen.”
“I … I’m sorry?”
He nuzzles into you then, clearly getting comfortable with his chin docked rather innocently against your upper arm and his hands softly massaging shapes into your softened belly. “I didn’t really understand it myself. He said something about your body being so convinced that it was — with child that you may start to produce milk too. Something about … sympathetic lactation?”
Oh, well wasn’t that just great?
You start to open your mouth to complain, rant and rave about every single wrong you’ve had to endure, but the words catch in your raw throat when he rolls his pelvis forward, sending his cock skirting up the length of your pussy. It’s a completely impotent gesture, harmless, but it still sets off alarm bells in the back of your head.
Snapping your attention down, you look to see his cock slotted along your slit, still sticky and covered in that clear fluid, but as hard as you’ve ever seen it. He’s so stiff the foreskin has drawn back, allowing the pink glans to wink up at you even as a chilly note of fear curls through you. He couldn’t be serious. After he’d just watched you struggle to birth the first clutch of eggs he’d saddled you with, he wanted to do it again?
“Durin …”
“Can I? Please.” He asks so sweetly that you may have been inclined to acquiesce if only you didn’t already know what sort of disastrous consequences it would incur for you. Whatever freak accident of biology that allowed him to deposit his eggs in your guts would almost certainly do the same inside your womb.
And you really, really didn’t want to think about that right now.
“No. Once was more than enough for this lifetime, thank you. Let go of me.”
He doesn’t, of course. It’s just like back at the baths. Refusing to release and unhand you, Durin simply clings to you all the more fervently while his cock oozes a sticky bead of secretion onto your thigh. It’s hot, almost steaming where it lands.
That makes you hesitate. You’d nearly forgotten that at least some part of him was still dragon more dragon than man. You were a fool for ever going along with this.
“Durin, please - -“
In a sudden rush, he turns you over onto your stomach and mounts you from behind, his leaking cock blindly jabbing in an upward motion over your cunt. It’s like he physically can’t stop himself, completely caught up in the instinctive need to breed, breed, breed.
And he already had you trapped inside his cozy nest of blankets and shawls where he could keep you until it was time to deliver his next brood. Would it still be unfertilized though? If he forced his length into your pussy —
“I’m sorry.” He mutters into your hair, whimpering softly in his desperation. Still helplessly thrusting against you. “I just want it so bad. I want … nnghnn, I want to make you mother. For real this time. Can I, please? Oh, please, can I? Please?”
The head of his cock skirts over your gaping asshole then, catches completely by chance, and you wheeze a horrified sound of reluctant pleasure when he doesn’t even stop to consider which hole he’s using. He just shoves right up inside you, knocking you forward with a jolt, and your ass readily accepts it without question.
Hands clawing at the sheets, you can do nothing except lie there and take it as Durin wildly pumps his seed into you with a sudden, frantic cry. The tears are streaming again but you hardly even notice them. This was your life now, it seemed.
Really appreciative of the subtle genius of Dan Heng choosing this specific question to ask Evernight when he comes across her at the end of 3.5.
Because part of it, he says out loud right then and there- March 7th would never remember such a minuscule detail. And if you look back at the scene where that dialogue actually happened, where the trailblazer spoke (or well, I guess didn't speak) to Dan Heng right before he parted the waters, March 7th wasn't even really part of that conversation. She was busy checking out the statue of Yubie. So even more than her not simply not remembering, this is probably a case of her not even having that information at all to begin with.
So when Dan Heng asks her this, and Evernight gives the same answer that was stated all the way back in 3.1, it actually establishes two things:
1) the obvious, that this is not March 7th; or at the very least, this is not his March, and
2) for her to know this information, which she should absolutely not know, means that possibly for their entire 8 month stay in Amphoreus,
and even somewhere as private and cut off as the trial of Nikador,
this thing parading around wearing his best friend's face and daring to speak in her voice-
(a friend who, the last he saw, was so ill that she sat hunched over on her bed, clutching her chest like even breathing was difficult)-
has been watching him and the trailblazer from the shadows.
Anyway I would LOVE to see some angst about Dan Heng coming across Evernight like this, because you know internally he must really be freaking out.
March 7th is just so so dear to him, Dan Heng loves her, and he's very protective of her. In her companion quest, Total Recall, March 7th sees fragments of memories buried so deeply she no longer remembers them. She sees Welt, Pom-Pom, and Himeko all standing in the hallway discussing her circumstances.
But Dan Heng is the one closest to the core of everything, stood outside of her bedroom door like he's standing guard. He's the only one that talks to her instead of about her.
The way Dan Heng speaks to her here, and that he's the one explaining what's going on and that she can stay with them... I'm pretty sure he has been with her since the first time she opened her eyes. He was probably the very first person she saw. Himeko had said it wasn't sure when she would wake up, but even so, Dan Heng was there, waiting for her. He told her "we aren't alone anymore." They were probably each other's first ever friends. They have been together ever since.
The last time Dan Heng saw March 7th was, for him, 8 months ago. She was sick. No one knew what was wrong with her. She's normally so lively and excited about trailblazing, but she couldn't even come with them, it was so bad. And it came on so suddenly that they all knew it couldn't be a normal illness.
I'm sure Dan Heng had figured out already that time passes differently in Amphoreus than the rest of the cosmos. But that's still 8 months for him to worry about if March 7th was actually ok or not. That's a lot of time to sit, and think, and stew, and spiral, and in the end all that can be done is to have faith in her strength and hope that March 7th will be ok when he makes his way back to her.
Not only that, but Dan Heng has spent these last months watching the Chrysos Heirs drop like flies. He was particularly close with Hyacine, she was his friend and he just lost her, and in such an awful and painful fashion, too. Even the trailblazer was technically dead for a while, and Dan Heng told himself he should have done more to keep them safe, even as he did all he could desperately looking for a way to help them.
And so to come out of all that, to have to leave the trailblazer behind so that he could go find help, to see so much death and destruction from a force like the black tide, that twists and mangles and specifically corrupts everything that it touches?
And then to run into this thing, this corruption of March with her face, with her voice, to watch it dare to try to pass itself off as her?
No wonder he has his hackles up. No wonder he immediately threatened it.
Poor Dan Heng is probably wondering if he's lost her for good.
