“Do you like being filled over and over with come, my love? Can you feel it stretching you, swelling you?”
Julian croons from his position above you, your face pressed into the floor, ass tilted up toward him, taking his cock and his seed and every deep thrust in between that sends you fucking reeling. His wings are spread out and around you, brushing over you, making you shiver and keen and press back into him.
“I’m going to fuck you again,” he tells you. “Let’s see if you can be a good little pet and keep it all inside of you.”
You nod, a shuddering breath escaping through your parted lips. You are trying so hard to squeeze around him, trying to keep his come inside of you like he asked because you’re a good pet, a good little human, you just want to please him, make him happy.
His talons settle at your hips, raking down along the skin, never hard enough to break but enough to know the threat is there, should you so desire that pain. You whimper and keen as they reach around to your stomach, and you hiss when they press hard enough to leave little red score marks.
“You’re so full. So swollen with my come, you’ve taken so much, like a good little pet. And you will hold our eggs so well, keep them so safe, I know you will.”
You shiver again, throat tight, and even though his talons continue to stroke and press against the almost uncomfortable swell of your stomach, in reality it’s impossible to distinguish your lusty haze—it is both the sharpness of the talons and the thought of being filled with his eggs that has you so heady.
His thrusts are long, smooth, not quite a violent rush but enough to know that he’s timing something, counting down, waiting for the right moment. He rakes his talons down your skin again, this time along your back, and you feel the skin break as you whimper and arch away from him.
Then, you feel it: his cock, already so thick and long, swelling inside of you, something round pressing against your hole before popping into you with a soft groan and continuing its course up his cock to where his head is nestled inside of you.
“Are you ready, my love?” He murmurs. “Are you ready to take my eggs?”
He pulls his talons through your hair, and you almost preen at the feel of it, hips tilting back to try and take him a little further even though there is nothing left to take. You whimper and nod, and within moments, you feel the first of the eggs bumping against the little pocket of magic inside of you, where they will sit and grow and be kept safe inside of your body.
“Please, please—” You groan, your fingertips flexing against the bed. “Give me your eggs, fill me, please I want them so bad—”
Your eyes are stinging from all of the aches inside of you, the arch of your back and the swell of his come and the swollen head of his cock waiting to give you what you’re begging for.
He releases a soft groan as the first one pops in. You gasp, hands scrambling at the sheets. You moan, whimper, the feeling not unpleasant but definitely foreign, the single egg already seeming to add so much volume and weight to the swell of come inside of you. He croons and strokes your back as the second one is pushed through his cock and into your body, and you shudder and clench around him.
Three, four, five, six, all pushed inside of you, all stretching you, all making you swell. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, from pleasure or discomfort or something else you don’t know. Julian is still stroking your back, praising you, telling you how well you’re doing, what a good job you will do keeping our young safe until they’re ready to come out into the world.
You quickly lose track of time, lose count of how many he has given you, now nothing but a quiet, whimpering mess. But eventually, Julian leans forward to press a soft kiss to your shoulder and murmurs to you, “I’m going to pull out now. Will you be okay?”
You nod, tightening all of your muscles as Julian pulls out of you. A little of his come slips from your body, but the eggs are still safe inside of you. He reaches around you, one hand to your hip to support your shaking arms and legs, the other to pat your stomach, swollen with the eggs and his come.
“20,” he murmurs, praising you. “You did so well, my love. The sight of you so swollen, carrying our young…I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
You nod, and he helps you turn onto your back, and your eyes go down to your stomach. You lift a shaking hand to run it over the swell; you can vaguely feel the individual bumps of them, each about the size of a golfball.
Julian settles in behind you, strokes your hair and murmurs to you. “Sleep, now. You’ve had an exhausting day, pet. Sleep. You did so well.”
And with your hand still on your swollen stomach, his come dripping from you, your eyes flutter shut and you fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep.