( it really is all too much, but it'd been what he'd asked for and what he'd wanted, and if he were coherent in the slightest he'd think the scientists must have done this to him— or was this simply how all angels would experience pregnancy?— but he isn't, and his skin, warm and growing opalescent at its sticky edges, presses waxy against him as he stretches— too much, to accommodating for how wataru runs and suckers along his dripping insides, coming once as wataru strokes his straining cock— again when he feels the second sac pushed into his womb, filling it, as wataru digs his teeth into him—
he'll regret asking wataru to cool him off, because he hadn't been picturing (or thinking at all, really) anything so dramatic. the orgasm from his cunt had spread a heat from his stomach to his chest where it burnt, his body trembling, read for collapse— so there's hardly a yelp from him before he's immediately sunk under water, and all the pleasure vanishing with the air around him.
the water around them bubbles with heat as eichi rapidly sinks in, but the deeper he drags them the cooler it gets, and the cold ocean swallows up his heat near-entirely, and for the first genuine time he looks as if he's in pain. as wataru expects, eichi grows firmer in the temperature, tightening around wataru's shape bulging his stomach— and it's a constriction that sends a shock of pleasure through him, in startling contrast with the flurry of air escaping his lips.
oddly, though, there's a flicker of sunset-crimson in him: a flame, like a candle, in his chest, the inside of him looking like a hollow wax sculpture with every attempt to light: once, twice; flickering quickly him, in time with how rapidly the air bubbles from him, his chest warming the water around it, and his wings attempting, sluggish and clumsy in the water, to beat out of some instinct, his fingers, weak and barely-moving, attempting to curl into wataru's back as if a plea. )
no subject
he'll regret asking wataru to cool him off, because he hadn't been picturing (or thinking at all, really) anything so dramatic. the orgasm from his cunt had spread a heat from his stomach to his chest where it burnt, his body trembling, read for collapse— so there's hardly a yelp from him before he's immediately sunk under water, and all the pleasure vanishing with the air around him.
the water around them bubbles with heat as eichi rapidly sinks in, but the deeper he drags them the cooler it gets, and the cold ocean swallows up his heat near-entirely, and for the first genuine time he looks as if he's in pain. as wataru expects, eichi grows firmer in the temperature, tightening around wataru's shape bulging his stomach— and it's a constriction that sends a shock of pleasure through him, in startling contrast with the flurry of air escaping his lips.
oddly, though, there's a flicker of sunset-crimson in him: a flame, like a candle, in his chest, the inside of him looking like a hollow wax sculpture with every attempt to light: once, twice; flickering quickly him, in time with how rapidly the air bubbles from him, his chest warming the water around it, and his wings attempting, sluggish and clumsy in the water, to beat out of some instinct, his fingers, weak and barely-moving, attempting to curl into wataru's back as if a plea. )