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Bug types from all across the world were congregating.
Large and small, the winged insects blotted out the sun. Each swarm was a marvel in of themselves, but none could compare to the size and sheer variety of the vivillon flock. Indeed, their multicolored wings shone brilliantly, a sharp contrast to the other bug types and acting as a dazzling reminder to many that autumn would soon overtake summer.
For a lone vivillon, however, it meant something much greater: opportunity.
His wings buzzed with excitement and he itched to join his fellows in the yearly migration. Regrettably, it was not to be; his left wing was already tiring, making it abundantly clear he wouldn’t last minutes in sustained flight, let alone the days required for such a journey.
With a sigh, he nonetheless glided down onto a branch, wincing as he folded back his injured wing. One time, just one time he wanted things to go his way. But no. He had to get into a scuffle only days before the migration. The stupid unfezant didn’t even have the dignity to lose fairly, oh no, she had to drag him down with her.
That day started innocently enough. He picked a few berries, ate breakfast, and went to roost at his awesome nest. It was a mundane, lazy morning. A perfect day. Then he woke up to an overgrown pidgey trying to claw his eyes out.
He was at a severe disadvantage, that much was clear.
He won.
Easily.
Naturally, she wasn’t having it, wouldn’t give up on taking his prime sleeping spot—it was the soft human stuff, a premium out here in the wild—so she decided to play dirty. Long story short, she pretended to back down. Apologized. Said she was sorry, that she’d leave him alone, all that good stuff. So of course she came back while he was licking his battle wounds and chomped him in the wing. She even pushed him off his perch!
And now here he was with a lame wing, unable to do much more than hover until he healed. All because of a nest-stealing jerk.
“Stupid cloaca-breath,” he grumbled while watching the cloud of vivillon leave him in the dust. This would have been his first migration, too. His first time being with others of his species since he evolved. His first opportunity to find a mate.
He longed to join them.
His current perch was a branch at the top of a massive tree, placing him directly below the bulk of the bug-type highway. This did not make his situation easier to bear, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look away. Beautiful and exotic vivillon females soared the winds above, almost tantalizing him with their majestic wings. They were flashy alright, with their electric blues and dazzling pinks making his region’s vivillon look like trash.
He subconsciously glanced at his wings and winced at the coloration: murky-brown with green, red, and cream rectangles at the tips. He stood out as much as a dying leaf! Even if he could fly up there, he’d easily be the last pick. If that.
Speaking of slim pickings, most females already had a male attached to their hip—sometimes literally, the lucky bastards—while the few singles remaining didn’t appear to be in much of a hurry to find a mate, giggling with their cliques as they were. His antennae drooped at the sight.
He sniffled and tried to rub away his strangely glistening vision. Nadda. His eyes only continued to burn as his throat itched. Despite his efforts, a sob slipped past his lips. “I-it’s not fair.”
“Um, excuse me?” The voice was soft, gentle, so much so that he thought he imagined it at first.
But no, turning around revealed something amazing. He almost couldn’t believe his eyes. There, right there, was a vivillon, lazily hovering within touching distance as she stared at him intently, her little mouth parted just a tad. If that wasn’t enough, she was gorgeous, her wings a stunning sky-blue with intermittent speckles of pure white.
And here he was, crying like a baby in front of her. He was such a loser. There must be a way to salvage this, he thought. Oh, I know!
“S-sorry,” he mumbled, wiping the totally-not-tears out of his eyes. “Allergies, you know? Happens every year.” He flashed her a grin, hoping it seemed genuine. She returned it, though he couldn’t help but think she must have been doing so out of pity.
The cute female bit her lip. “I don’t mean to pry, but, um.” She stole a brief glance at his left wing before quickly looking away. “Are you okay? You’re not grounded, are you?” He winced, and she rightly took that as confirmation. “Oh, you poor dear! What happened?”
He was taken aback by the genuine concern in her tone, flying in the face of his assumption just a moment ago. Was this actually, truly happening?
He couldn’t look her in the eye. “An unfezant happened,” he mumbled, unable to hold back a sniffle. “Pecked my wing.”
She gasped, her little arm nubs moving to cover her mouth. “That’s horrible! To hurt something as cute as you—”
“Cute?” he blurted, his heart skipping a beat. She thought he was cute! Him!
Her eyes widened. “I-I mean, um. You’re, uh—” she tripped over her words, blushing adorably. “S-sure? Yeah.” Her voice grew confident, as if deciding something. “I think you're cute. It’s kinda why I came down here. I was gonna ask you to fly with me.” He winced and subconsciously buzzed his good wing. “Oh, right. B-but it could still work!”
“How?” he asked, sounding a bit more pathetic than he meant to. “I can’t fly for at least another week.”
“M-maybe I could stay with you? And we could, um… do it? M-mate?” Her question ended on a hopeful trill. It was convincing, for sure, but he was floored; she actually made it seem like he was the catch, not her. That didn’t make any sense. Sure, it was mating season and, yes, he could admit his wings were large for his age, but they were just so ugly. Brown? Bleh.
And then he looked into her eyes, her shy, pleading eyes, and realized he was an idiot. What am I thinking? A hot female has offered to mate with you and you haven’t said yes yet? The heck are you waiting for?
Her wings and antennae drooped. “I’ll, um, I’ll just go,” she whispered. She began to turn away, looking toward the sky.
Oh, no.
“Oh, no!” he stupidly said aloud. That wasn’t supposed to leave his head. “I mean, yes. Of course! I’d love to. To do it, I mean. Very much! Loads!” His mind caught up with what he said. “Wait, not loads. That came out wrong. Not to say I couldn’t, but, uh. Never mind.” To his relief, his rambling just made her giggle. Her face was madly flushed, but her antennae were perked up, meaning he had her full attention. Phew. “You, uh, really wanna do it?”
She gave a gentle nod. “Yeah.”
“Cool, cool.”
Wow, I suck at this.
After a moment of (hopefully not awkward) silence, she spoke up, “So… don’t talk to girls much, huh?” He just gave her an embarrassed smile. “That’s okay, I’m not used to talking to guys, either.” She giggled. “So, um, what’s your name? I probably should have asked before offering to mate, but hormones…” She buried her face in her arms and muttered, “Oh gosh, did I just say that? Stupid...”
His heart fluttered. She’s just as awkward as me, oh my gosh!
Trying to keep his cool, he answered, “Name, right. I’m Gus. You?”
Oh please don’t think I said gust, please don’t think it’s gust.
“Gust, huh? Wow…” She beamed at him. “My name’s Breeze! What are the odds?”
His heart melted, and he felt terrible that he had to correct her. “Gus, not gust. Short for Augustus?” At her blank look, he twitched an antenna. “I think it’s a human name. My parents are weird.”
Breeze flew up to his right and nuzzled him. He swooned at the gesture. “I think it’s cute! So, how do you want to do this? You know, with your busted wing and all...” She gestured to the branch. “You got up here, right?”
“My wing can take some abuse,” Gus confirmed. “Maybe half a minute before it cramps.”
She leaned her head against his and sighed. The touch sent an electric shock through his abdomen. Awesome.
“Phew, that’s a relief,” she said. “So, um, your nest then?”
“Sure!” Gus chirped. “You’ll love it! It has the most comfortable—” And then it hit him: an unfezant was doing who-knows-what with it. Likely rubbing her slutty body all over it, the feathered rat. He bristled. “The cloaca-breath has it.”
Breeze choked, the sound turning into an amused snort. “Cloaca-breath? Never heard that one before. Wait, you’re talking about the, um, unfezant, right?” He nodded. “She stole your home?! Really? She really is a cloaca-breath.”
He couldn’t help it, he snickered right along with her. “Right!? Well, I do actually have a backup nest not far from here. It only has a few leaves for bedding, and it’s not nearly as good as an actual nest, but—”
Breeze pecked him on the lips, silencing him. He hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Hush. Just show me the way, kay?” He couldn’t do anything except nod and rev his wings into motion.
A minute of extremely painful flying later, Gus collapsed into his hollowed-out tree. His sore wing cursed him, especially since he landed directly on it. Ouch.
Peeking into the hole was Breeze, her expression that of a worried mother. Eww, never mind, make that worried lover. Yes, that.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Never better,” he groaned out. “Could’ve landed better, though.”
She giggled. “Wouldn’t want you to break down before we got to mate, right?” she teased. Then, her expression changed abruptly, as if realizing what she’d said. “Wait!” she cried, flying to him and dropping down into the tight space between him and the wall with an adorable oof. “That came out wrong! I’m not that shallow, I promise!”
Gus dismissed it with a gentle nudge. “I don’t mind. Just a joke.” He took a readying breath and nuzzled her as his suddenly raging hormones demanded. Her scent was starting to get to him, especially in such a cramped space. It was unlike anything he’d smelled before, and the tiny den didn’t allow for much air circulation. He squirmed, feeling hot. “We’re both a little pent up now, huh?”
“Y-yeah,” she breathed, beginning to rub her abdomen against his. “Wow, you smell good.”
“Y-you too,” he agreed dumbly. The pressure at the base of his abdomen was growing, and everything was so warm. Fleetingly, he realized he was aligning his pulsing abdomen with Breeze’s. Her eyes were bright, gorgeous, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning toward them. Their lips touched.
The kiss was brief yet intense. Their tongues twirled around each other, and he was surprised at just how pleasurable kissing was. Breeze let out an euphoric giggle, and Gus couldn’t help but let out one of his own.
In an explosive moment of relief, his long, thin shaft finally plopped out of him and settled between their bodies. It was sudden, almost unexpected. He’d never been this turned on before. It felt… very nice. Fantastic.
He shivered in anticipation at the thought of what came next.
His tip slipped against something wet, and Breeze broke their kiss with a gasp. “We’re t-touching,” Breeze said. She pressed herself firmly, urgently, against him, squishing her vent against his cock. “It's so slippery!”
“You’re the one who’s dripping all over me,” he teased.
They both continued to push against each other, as if trying to shove Gus inside through sheer force.
“This feels good,” Breeze said, “but it obviously isn’t working.” She was right. She was just too slippery, and there wasn’t enough room to get a good angle. Still, rubbing like this did feel good. Really good.
They both knew it could be better.
“What, ah,” his length shifted sideways along her soaked opening for just a moment before being forced to the side. They shivered. “What do you suggest?”
Breeze bit her lip. “Um, me on top? And then I can… use my claspers and some... leverage to guide you inside.” She was already moving, using her wings to hover into place, breathing heavily.
He found himself below her, giving him a good view of the gaped opening in her otherwise smooth plates, her ringed insides pulsing gently along with her abdomen. Her four, tiny claspers were active, grasping as if they could cling onto the air. Occasionally, one of them would graze his tip, feeling much squishier than they looked. It kinda tickled, actually. And if that wasn't telling enough of how eager she was, she was absolutely soaked, fluids dripping onto her tight-looking anus.
Then she lowered herself, her soft claspers aligning with his own. It was such a bizarre, wonderful feeling as instincts guided them, and they gripped the other as their tips connected. They both gasped at the contact.
Abdomens now interlocked, the rest felt natural, allowing him to slip inside her without difficulty. He couldn't help it: he squeaked. She was so warm, so slick. Tight. His second thrust was impatient. He needed to experience all of her, to feel his entire length wrapped around soft, receptive bug-pussy. Not even half of him was inside her, and that just would not do.
With the help of Breeze’s own eager motions, their abdomens impacted with a lewd squish, signaling the extent of their union. Her insides rippled around him, as if in shock at how quickly he bottomed out. He could feel every detail of her flesh, his tip scraping along impossibly soft walls.
As they stared at each other with wide eyes, Gus couldn't help but wonder if Breeze was thinking the same thing he was. That this was an absurd, wonderful thing. Disbelief that something this good could even be possible. He didn't want to speak, afraid that doing so would break the spell, revealing that he wasn't currently sheathed in a beautiful female. That it was all a dream.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Breeze whispered, speaking for the both of them. “I'm squeezing you and it feels— it feels right.” She shifted a bit, jostling him within her soft insides. This time, she squeaked. “How can something feel—oh—this good?”
Gus nodded dumbly, too engrossed in the feeling of Breeze’s flesh squeezing around his to respond.
They stayed like that, content in enjoying the warmth of the other—enjoying the sheer completeness that mating promised. Subtle motions were all that was needed after the initial joining. A twitch there, a clench in response. He never pulled out, not once.
He hadn’t noticed it before, as out of it as he was, but both of their abdomens were undulating.
Huh. Neat.
It wasn't long before he felt something coming, a building pressure that urged him to push against Breeze even harder. Somehow, someway, he felt himself slip even deeper, her body growing impossibly tight around his tip in response. Any deeper, and he was sure he’d enter her womb. He giggled at that possibility.
Yeah, like that could happen.
Breeze began to slowly grind herself against him, closing her eyes as she apparently lost herself in pleasure. He couldn’t blame her; the gyrations were intense, even from his side, he could only imagine how it felt for the one actually in season.
Gus wondered how close she was to cumming. He'd ask, but he felt too dazed to speak. And, given her dopey expression, so was she.
He got his answer when Breeze let out a high-pitched squeal and her insides, amazingly, began to explode into motion. Where before there was a constant, if slow, undulation, now she tightened and relaxed in rapid waves, massaging him wonderfully with every rhythmic squeeze. Breeze had stars in her eyes, her antennae twitching in synch with each clench. There was no doubt about it: Breeze was cumming. Hard.
So hot!
Gus giggled and nuzzled his mate, getting her to return the favor despite her pleasure. It felt as if her insides were encouraging him, trying to get him to finish as well. It was working.
Breeze’s orgasm was just the stimulation he needed to push him over the edge. He hugged Breeze close as the first spurt left him, the warmth spilling out and sending a flash of relief through him. He groaned as the pleasure kept coming, rope after rope, filling his mate and ensuring him a healthy clutch.
Wait, clutch? He didn't know where that thought came from, but the reality of knocking his mate up only made the orgasm better, more fulfilling.
Breeze's insides tightened further as he spilled his seed. “Oh my gosh,” she gasped, “it's so warm! So deep!”
Her words sent a thrill of satisfaction through him.
As bug-types, their respective orgasms lasted quite a while. He was still spilling into her minutes later, though the pulses were coming much more infrequently now. Breeze, however, her orgasm was still going strong. At least, it felt like it on his end.
“I'm spent,” Gus admitted after a time. Though he remained erect, still being massaged by Breeze's eager flesh. His last spurt was nearly a minute ago. He was sore, exhausted.
Breeze didn't look much better; eyes droopy, wings and antennae hanging low, she was obviously exhausted. But the tired smile she gave him was anything but dissatisfied. “Yeah,” she said, voice slurred. “Let's sleep…”
Having no arguments, Gus nodded tiredly and snuggled up to his mate, still sheathed within her. It wasn't long before they both fell asleep, satisfied grins on their faces.