Patreon Compilation – Fic#188 – Aymeric/Estinien – Oviposition; MPreg – Dragon's Brood (Patreon)

Part 1 (This Part) (Chronologically, this part comes after Part 2)

Part 2 (Patreon Link)

Aymeric/Estinien – Estinien has put some eggs into Aymeric but gets somewhat second thoughts when Aymeric insists to be lewd about it.

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“O-oh how… how k-kind of you to join me, Ser Dragoon- ah!”

Aymeric lets his head sink forward, strands of hair clinging to his sweaty cheeks as a pang of sharp pain once more shoots along his spine. He shuffles his feet a little further apart, lowering his bottom closer to the ground where he has made a beautiful nest for their spawn.

Estinien does not make a sound; just like he had very quietly opened the door to Aymeric’s rooms; nearly too quiet to be heard above Aymeric’s exhausted grunting as he tried to press against his abdomen and urge the eggs into some form of line.

It occurs to him that a split second before the pain had taken his breath away, he’d be able to see Ser Dragoon wincing. So he glances over his shoulder once more, just to see that Estinien is still standing at the door, stiff and with a pinched expression to his face.

If it weren’t for the faint traces of a pink flush to his cheeks, Aymeric would have thought him angry.

“Come closer, my love,” he coaxes, sweat dripping from the tip of his nose. He extends a trembling hand toward Estinien but there is another sharp pain sliding along his spine, so he hisses and quickly puts his hand back upon his knee, lest he topple down.

He can hear a soft huff and the leathery creak of Estinien’s boots as he finally makes his way closer. Moments later, his legs appear in Aymeric’s vision.

Reaching out for him, he is pleased to feel Estinien grabbing him under the arms and helping him into somewhat of a more upright position, allowing him to lean against his partner and clutch at the back of his white shirt.

“Oh this is… ah… this is marvelous, yes,” he sighs. The new position loosens his muscles somewhat, easing the previous pain into a dull, very manageable throb. “I am so glad you are here… I had thought you would make me deliver our babies by myself.”

Estinien stiffens in his hold and Aymeric gets the distinct feeling that he would have stepped away were he not so desperately clutching at him.

He peers up, trying to see his face. It looks even tighter than usual, his lips nigh invisible with how hard he’s pressed them together, and the flush to his cheeks darkened in color.

“Ser Dragoon?”

“Would you-” Estinien starts, voice scratchy. He stops and turns his head away, clearing his throat. His hands are on Aymeric’s ribs still, fingers now digging in a little harder, though not painfully so. “Would you stop calling them that? This is…”

Aymeric does not know what ‘this is’ because the eggs are sliding down suddenly, one of them filling his hole and pressing against his rim from the inside. He groans low, head falling forward and against the Dragoon’s chest.

He would not be able to adequately express how comforting Estinien’s smell is in that moment; thick and unwashed and clearly just off his training. He digs his fingers harder into the fabric of Estinien’s shirt, honestly wanting him to take it off so he can stuff his face into the Dragoon’s armpit while delivering his eggs-

“Are you alright?”

Aymeric blearily blinks his eyes open. He has no idea what kind of sounds he must have made to elicit such a worried response but finally Estinien has procured an expression other than pinched embarrassment over the whole situation.

Aymeric tries himself on a smile but could not say how it goes, so he nods just to make it a point.

“Oh, I am very right, Ser Dragoon,” he rasps. Heat is spreading throughout his body as the first egg begins to inch its way down, spreading his rim without him having to do much of anything. For now, gravity is working its wonders which Aymeric is quite thankful for. “I have been waiting for this moment for weeks,” he croons. “I can’t wait to meet our children…”

Estinien’s face twists somewhat, eyes sliding off to the side. He looks horribly embarrassed… but not enough so to not be vastly interested in the proceedings once Aymeric starts to whine and bear down, it seems. He leans over Aymeric’s back, peering down to watch the egg as it stretches out Aymeric’s hole even further.

He tries to ask Estinien about the color of the shell but ultimately can’t make his tongue move in the ways that he would have liked. It feels swollen in his mouth so he just lets it hang out, lolling as the first egg slips from him and is safely caught by the nest he’s prepared – moments before the next fills his hole.

This one feels… different. A lot more bumpy; and he says so with a nervous laugh while his cock twitches and a spurt of pre-cum hits the floor.

“You… enjoy this,” Estinien murmurs. The Dragoon’s hands finally begin to wander, slowly sliding forward to palm Aymeric’s stomach. It had been hugely distended the last few days but already shrunk after he’s delivered the first egg.

Aymeric closes his eyes, carefully bearing down on the bumpy egg that, from the feel of things, is covered in what seem to be scales. “Of course I am… I can’t wait to meet our babies.”

Estinien does not answer, so when Aymeric blinks the sweat out of his eyes and peers up, he sees him once again looking… flushed, the ball of his hand slowly rubbing little circles over his stomach to encourage the eggs to move.

“You are… you are embarrassed, Ser Dragoon?” he asks. He can’t quite keep the breathless laughter out of his voice, even when the second egg spreads him open wider, its bulk pushing into his most sensitive spots until stars dance in his vision – though that might just be because he is looking at Estinien…

“Well of course-”

“...It has been you who put them into my person in the first place, was it not?” Aymeric croons at him, licking his lips once Estinien finally looks him in the eyes, visibly shook that Aymeric would so… boldly state this simple fact. “Rather… enthusiastically, if I remember correctly,” he adds.

Estinien exhales sharply. He shakes his head, lowering himself onto his knees while helping Aymeric to do the same; kneeling with his legs spread over his perfectly made nest, the second egg spreading him as wide as it is going to get. His hips ache dull and sweet from the stretch.

“You are… not mincing your words, are you?”

“Well, if it is the truth,” he replies with a shaky voice. He can’t help the half-cry, half-grunt suddenly expelled from his person when the scaled egg slips out of his body, leaving him with a feeling of orgasmic glee, cock dripping in long, sticky strings down to the ground.

“If you were… If you were just to help me, Ser Dragoon? This… oh, this feels marvelous – I can not wait t-to let you breed me once more. This feeling-”

He is silenced by a kiss, desperate and, dare he say harsh? He can feel his lip near splitting against his teeth as Estinien holds his head tightly and does not let him go. Aymeric does have the feeling that he is mostly kissing him to make him shut up but… that is perfectly fine as well.

He would not have thought Ser Dragoon this easily embarrassed after all the filth that had dripped from his lips when he grunt fucked him into the bed, holding him down and making him take egg after egg after egg…

It seems a far cry from the shy boy that is helping him to get down on all fours, though this is also quite charming. He had not thought Estinien to be able of this softness.

There must be a lot more about him that he had never gotten the chance of witnessing-

“Fuck.”

The curse is spoken soft but very distinct. It has goosebumps running along his spine and down his arms as he turns his head to peer over his shoulder at Ser Dragoon. He has moved toward the back and is just… staring at him, his gaze so intent and predatory-

Gone is the soft, shy lad that had reluctantly slipped into this room. He is replaced by a Dragoon, nostrils flaring and chest expanding as he inhales deeply, visibly trying to reign himself in and not become too intense.

When he speaks, it is in a low voice that coincides with the third and final egg slipping right against Aymeric’s opening and beginning to spread his rim all anew: “My mate.”

Yes. Yes, yes, yes; he wants to assure him that he is his and only his, but no words come out. All he can do is bear down on the egg instinctively, groaning as a beast would.

He wonders about how beautiful their babies will be… and when Estinien might be able to fill him with eggs once more. The first time had been a happy little coincidence that Aymeric hadn’t even thought possible.

But now that he knows about it? He might just become a very willing incubator for Ser Dragoon.