Patreon Compilation – Fic#207 – Aymeric/Estinien – breeding; oviposition – Dragon's Brood 2 (Patreon)

Part 1 (Patreon Link) (Chronologically, Part 1 comes after this part)

Part 2 (This Part)

Aymeric/Estinien – How it came that Estinien put those eggs into Aymeric...

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Aymeric could not say what has gotten into Ser Dragoon but his face is tight and his teeth are bared as he pushes the door behind himself closed. Aymeric can not remember having called for Estinien, but… well, this is quite interesting, is it not? Much more so than the piles of missives on his desk. He turns away from them and begins to stand with a small smile, though Estinien’s next words – his first words upon intruding on Aymeric in such a… brutish fashion – have him grow still mid-motion, eying Ser Dragoon with some wonder.

“On the bed. Lord Commander.” The honorific sounds like Estinien has had to carve it straight from his own ribs. His fingers are curling into tight fists and unfurling in agitated pulses.

“Excuse me?” Aymeric asks. He tries for some levity in his tone but he can see the uncharacteristic agitation in Estinien’s posture… and he can smell him. Thick and… and ready.

Aroused. His mouth goes dry. Could it be? Could it be that the dragon has… awoken?

“On the bed,” Estinien reiterates, his voice having slipped into a deep, otherworldly growl. He’s hunching forward now, looking like a snake that is about to strike. His eyes are fixed solely on Aymeric. He hasn’t let him out of his sight for even a second since stepping into the room.

His pupils are slits, Aymeric realizes as his pulse rushes faster with excitement.

“...unless you want me to breed you like a common animal on the floor,” Estinien suddenly continues. It is unusual for him to even speak without having to be prodded and his words… oh that is also new.

Aymeric forgets how to breathe for a second as he finally stands upright, one hand clutching the edge of his desk as if afraid he might forget how to keep himself on his feet. If he was honest, it was quite difficult in that moment to remember. His head is filled with all kinds of… other… imagery.

“What has happened, Ser Dragoon?” he asks softly as he watches Estinien move and goes to mirror his position to keep a steady distance between the two of them. He is not afraid, of course. He is more so excited. Especially so when he realizes that Estinien is herding him; slowly but surely moving him toward the huge bed in the corner.

“Nothing.” Estinien’s answer is customarily short. He might not quite be himself at the moment but Aymeric at least can’t make out any dark magic… Not that he is much inclined to worry about such things right now when Estinien is starting to stalk toward him, his erection lewd and obvious in his trousers.

“Undress,” the Dragoon growls. “I will have you one way or another. Either you do as I say, or I make you do so.”

Aymeric’s body breaks out in goosebumps. Oh, how perfectly, wonderfully exciting!

Half of him wants to test Estinien out; see whether he would make true on his word and maybe push the Lord Commander face down onto the ground so he could have his way with him – but oh… oh he shouldn’t. How naughty of him to even think about it…

Aymeric starts to undress. His fingers might be trembling in anticipation of what is going to happen now, he is not paying too much attention, if he is being honest.

Estinien grabs him when he is still half tangled in his pants, the tether of patience had hung onto snapping almost audibly. Aymeric would not admit that he had hoped that would happen. Ser Dragoon is always so quiet and reserved… almost shy. This new development is infinitely exciting, even if it might go hand-in-hand with a few bruises as he is being thrown onto his mattress and covered with Estinien’s body.

Whatever has happened to trigger this, it must have been half-way through training. His skin is slick and sweaty to the touch and the heat he exudes is making it hard to breathe for a moment.

The Dragoon moves him about as if Aymeric is putting up a fight. Which he isn’t. He is thriving, his breath coming in sharp little bursts just shy of being gasps as he’s pulled around and pushed until he is face down on the bed like he had been envisioning earlier. Mayhaps it is better to have a soft mattress beneath him…

The loud ripping sound of Estinien tearing through his underwear shocks and arouses him in equal measures. He tries to look over his shoulder out of instinct but Estinien’s hand is there on his head, mashing his face back into the mattress. When he speaks, it is directly into Aymeric’s ear, hot breath hitting the sensitive skin and shocking the Lord Commander to the bone.

“You will stay nice and still now. I have chosen you to carry my eggs, so you should be thankful.”

Eggs… Eggs? Aymeric’s fingers dig claw-like into the mattress, his belly twisting in on itself hot and molten. Eggs…

His mind is still hung up on that innocuous little word when Estinien pushes into him. No warning, no nothing… just him with his hand in the back of Aymeric’s neck to hold him down as he crams his way into his body, the head of his cock curiously slick. Whether it is his own excited juices or an ounce of pity that has led him to slicking himself up, Aymeric could not have said.

This beast on his back is so different to what he is used to… but it is so exciting! He’s always tried to get Estinien to be a bit more… rough, so to speak. This is… oh, this is…

“Taking it like a champ,” Estinien growls above him. He sounds every inch the dragon right now, his hot breath ruffling Aymeric’s hair and sending his spine tingling as he ruts harder and deeper into him. “Gonna be perfect for my eggs… keep them nice and safe…”

There’s a cadence to his words that makes Aymeric think that he’s not entirely himself right now but he can try and figure this out later. After he is done getting drilled by Ser Dragoon who usually prefers to be so reserved and quiet, barely uttering a sound during their couplings as if it would lessen his strength…

Estinien is crouching above him and growling softly as he crams more of his cock into Aymeric. It feels hotter than usual. Bigger. It makes him desperately sensitive and aware of how he is wrapped around Estinien’s dick, clenching down on it to… to… he does not know. Make him slow down? Doubtful. He loves that he is finally taking initiative to this extent.

It’s just… different, is all. Him being so wild and unrelenting as he crams himself into Aymeric until there can’t be anything left to go, his body hot and slick, plastered along his back.

His mouth working, crooning low filth right into the Lord Commander’s ear. Filth that Aymeric is so very sure would make him die of embarrassment if he were in his right mind.

If he weren’t so ready and eager to fill him with eggs.

“I’ll pump you full and not let you out of my sight… make sure you’ll be nice and careful with my eggs… Have them snuggle deep into your soft tissue and grow nice and big-” he accentuates his words with harsh thrusts that light Aymeric up from the inside. The impact of Ser Dragoon’s hips against his buttocks travels up his back and rattles his brain around his skull. At least that’s what it feels like.

There’s nowhere for Aymeric to go, not when he is boxed in on all sides and doesn’t actually want to go. He’s biting at the bedsheets, eyes tearing up with how much he feels. He can’t remember the last time he felt so overwhelmed during a coupling. So thoroughly dominated.

Estinien is a force to be reckoned with. His skin feels a bit rougher than usual; like scales dragging over Aymeric’s back as he keeps humping into him, deeper and deeper, as if intent on depositing those eggs right in the Lord Commander’s stomach.

He would be hard pressed to explain the sensation of actually getting filled by Ser Dragoon’s eggs. Even as it happens, his brain has difficulties wrapping itself around the whole… experience. He tries to figure out how the eggs are even traveling through Estinien’s cock, but comes up short of an answer. All he knows is that he can feel his rim briefly getting forced even wider to make space for an unbidden intruder which he can feel moving through his intestines.

“Perfect little brood mare… you keep them nice and safe and I might just breed you up again… and again…”

Aymeric’s head is spinning with those words. The eggs already feel rather large… would they grow still? What size are they talking about? Would he waddle about with an enlarged, pregnant stomach?

And why is the thought so exciting to him?