Work Text:
When they spoke about John getting his own body, they never imagined it would be something like this. The process was surprisingly simple - an incantation recited in tandem, some blood from John's hand, and a polished black mirror was all that was needed. The spell promised a body whole and unused - no sacrifice, no moral argument - it seemed to be a lucky boon they didn't expect to fall at their feet, an easy fix to their problems.
Arthur, sat on his ass from where he had stumbled back in shock, couldn't make heads nor tails of what lay before him. A mass of iridescence, strange clattering legs, too many legs, twitching against the stone floor; what looked like crumpled shimmering fabric poking out from smooth segments. As it slowly untangled itself, a large angular head with several darting compound eyes peered over to Arthur, untucking itself from behind the limbs that crossed and protected.
Arthur couldn't convince his tongue to form words, a dumb silence stretching between as the thing in front of him uncoiled itself, rising up on slender elongated limbs, several more still tucked up along a long thorax. The bizarre fabric smoothed and unfurled, taking shape in delicate wings, like those of a dragonfly. It stood slightly taller than Arthur would, a large abdomen curled down between the last set of legs, segments of oilslick chitin, like armour over the whole of it.
Arthur gaped up at it, wondering what sort of being they had summoned, cursing the trickery of that spell for deceiving them into luring this monster instead of giving John what he had so desperately wanted. Then, with a start, Arthur realized he could see the thing in front of him, and that John was not rattling off some frenzied demand to 'fucking run, Arthur!'
"J-John?" He choked out, tongue still rejecting his commands.
The creature looming in front of him cocked its head, sleek antennae bouncing slightly with the motion.
"Oh, Arthur…" came the slightly vibrating voice, whether from its nature or apprehension, Arthur knew not.
Some of the segmented limbs drew themselves away from the body, John looking down at them curiously. The larger portion of them ended in sharp points, lacking dexterity. Curiously, a couple on either side of his body ended in what could pass as human hands, however dim it may have to be to do so. They were the same sleek obsidian of the rest of his body, struck through with flashes of colour as the light caught, articulating at the joints in separations in the chitin.
As the warm air dried the moisture from his wings and antennae, they filled out and expanded. The wings folded neatly along his back, protected under a glorious expanse of oilslick elytra. His antennae fanned out, feathery strands twitching as they separated.
A hoarse laugh bubbled out from Arthur's stomach before he could stifle it, interrupting John's exploration of his body, catching him mid-preen with the plumose antennae between his fingers. They flattened back against his head, hands stilling, looking nervous until he noticed Arthur's grin.
"John I- I can see you."
○
It was strange, at first. After all they had been through, John's body being not at all human was by and large inconsequential. The thing that was strange for Arthur, was that his voice sounded so similar, and so very different at once. When John was close, murmuring into his ear while the feathers of his antennae tickled Arthur's cheeks, it was like he was one with Arthur again. It still had that slightly dissonant property to it, secrets passed through tin can telephones.
They never really had any time to not be satisfied with the outcome, if they were to be honest. Either running towards their next clues, or away from the still-reaching grasp of the king and his followers, John’s new body did very nicely for them.
Of course, their good luck never had lasted. John had started to complain, after days of simply looking vaguely uncomfortable, that his body felt heavy, his abdomen bloated. Neither had the beginnings of an idea of what John even was, let alone his physiological and medical needs beyond John's instinct to eat, sleep, defecate, and fuck.
So, being a very good friend indeed, Arthur suggested that he take a more thorough examination of John's body. Running his hands over John's many legs, dipping his fingers into the soft - oh, fur-lined, interesting - intersections between the joints. That makes John chuckle, and squirm a bit, Arthur noted to himself silently - ticklish.
He found no noticeable injury on his pass over John's body, so he pressed gently on his abdomen, where John had said he felt the most discomfort. He heard John let out a breath above him, and glanced up in concern.
"No, it's okay, Arthur," he said quickly. "That eased some of the pressure, thank you."
Arthur hummed, and returned to pressing gently on John's softer underbelly. With each pass of his hands, he felt John become more and more relaxed. A quiet noise caught Arthur's attention, a soft clicking, and as he leaned closer he realized it came from John. Akin to a cat's purr, a rhythmic tone bubbled up from his thorax.
"John, are you purring?" He asked.
"Fuck you, Arthur."
○
Their journey found them on the outskirts of a small town, holed up in a small abandoned farmhouse. While the massaging helped for a bit, it didn't last, and John was becoming more and more uncomfortable, his abdomen notably more rotund. Both for concern for his companion, and concern for the humans in the town noticing a frankly humongous bug roaming their lands, Arthur insisted that John remain at the house while he went into town to retrieve supplies for them. Feeding two mouths was much more of a process than when they had shared Arthur's, and John needed to eat much more than a human, albeit not as frequently.
The Arthur going into town went by the moniker David Hollit, liaison for an ill-prepared fishing trip with a reclusive friend. The townsfolk shook their heads at him coming every couple days to refill his supply of sundries, but otherwise seemed incurious.
It was upon returning from one such trek that Arthur found John crumpled on the floor, shaking and groaning. He had immediately dropped the supplies, racing across the expanse of floor between, thanking whatever gods may listen that the farmhouse had only one storey.
As he fell to his knees beside John, every one of John's humanoid hands wrapped around Arthur's forearms. A shiver passed through him in waves, causing his wings and antennae to vibrate.
"John wh- what's going on, jesus christ you're-"
The words died in Arthur's mouth, when upon scanning frantically over John's body, he noticed movement from behind the slightly translucent wall of his abdomen. He froze, and leaned in for a better look. Behind the smokescreen of the dark chitin, there were what appeared to be several orbs, each a bit smaller than a fist closed, jostling together with every shaky motion John made.
"Arthur, I need- please, it hurts, " John moaned.
Arthur's heart raced in his chest, his palms had become sticky with sweat. He'd never thought- never could have imagined their more thorough explorations of John's body, and how his and Arthur's fit together, would result in this.
"John, it's- there are-" he stuttered out.
"I fucking know, Arthur," John cut him off, antennae bristling.
"You know? You knew about this? I've been- I've been worried out of my fucking mind and you knew what was going on?" Arthur demanded, fear and fury lending his voice a high pitched quality.
"I didn't know, but, well, I guessed," John groused back.
"Jesus fucking christ, John," he muttered.
Their argument was cut short when John let out a keen, curling into himself and tightening his grip on Arthur's arms. His legs scrambled against the wooden floor, leaving faint scratches. He pulled desperately at Arthur, awkwardly fitting his body and all those legs into his lap, burying his face in Arthur's neck.
"Please, please," he moaned against Arthur's skin.
Arthur smoothed a hand down over John's wings, anger bleeding out of him as he felt them vibrate with the rest of his body.
"What do you need, John, tell me," he murmured, shifting so he could pull John closer, more comfortable.
A reedy groan and John shaking his head, antennae tickling the back of Arthur's neck, was all the response he got. Arthur let out a small, frustrated sigh, and pulled back slightly to look John in the eyes. John protested valiantly, shaking harder and trying to hide his larger frame in Arthur's embrace.
"No, John, look," he said firmly. "I need you to tell me what you need. I'm here. I want to help you."
Arthur's voice had gentled by the end, holding John's face in front of his and looking into the largest of his many eyes. They never blinked, and Arthur could never tell quite where John was looking, but now they gave the feeling of averting Arthur's gaze.
"They need- I need-," John let out a frustrated huff.
"I don't know, Arthur. I don't have the fucking manual. They need to come out, now. And- and I don't think-" he nearly growled, but continued.
"I don't know why I feel this. But I think they need to be somewhere warm," he finishes lamely.
John's body wasn't cold, but definitely had a base temperature that was lower than a human's. Distantly, it made sense to Arthur that eggs would need somewhere warm to incubate. The small farmhouse was in disrepair, never maintaining a consistent climate, so just leaving them out in the open wouldn't be an option.
"Please, Arthur," John whimpered. And suddenly, all of his pleading clicked for Arthur. It hadn't been senseless begging for relief, but a plea he could not yet put into words.
A brief moment of conflict passed through Arthur, but only brief. In the deepest recesses of himself, he knew he trusted John.
"Okay. Alright, John. Whatever you need," he said softly.
"Arthur…" John's antennae fell limply back from where they had bristled anxiously. "We don't even know-"
"You need help here, John. I trust you," Arthur affirmed. He had no real basis for his certainty that this wouldn't, fuck , kill him, or, or change him. He had already changed, already died, for this man.
John shook his head, mouth twitching as if he were about to debate further, before another rolling vibration overtook his body. He keened, hunching forward and shaking. Arthur pulled him close again, tucking John's head under his chin.
"Just take what you need, John."
Myriad legs wrapped around Arthur’s torso. It was obvious John, even through his desperation, had been holding back. Now, he nearly smothered Arthur, hands grasping and sharp legs tearing at his clothes.
“Thank you, thank you,” he chorused, fangs brushing against the pounding vein of Arthur’s neck.
A heady shiver passed over Arthur, those fangs driving home exactly what he had agreed to. He really did trust John, he knew that his companion would never do something to harm him, at least not physically. Yet the fact remained that neither of them had a full grasp of the nature of John’s body. Would the eggs be fertile, or was this more like with chickens, and they could look forward to something like this happening regularly?
Arthur’s distracted ponderings were cut short by cool hands smoothing up his stomach, pushing his shirt up and away. He maneuvered his hands between John’s legs, met with an indignant buzzing noise, which was quickly abandoned when John saw that Arthur had started to unbutton his shirt. The hum softened, settling in a pleased tone. As Arthur worked at his shirt, John took the initiative and popped the button to his pants, nearly snarling when the zipper stuck briefly. They moved in tandem, divesting Arthur of all ridiculous cloth barriers, until he was nude and shivering slightly in the cool of the farmhouse.
John hoisted Arthur up, one set of hands around his upper arms and one set on his hips - still slender from their time lacking food, but considerably more healthy. Arthur spluttered and protested for a moment, before he was pulled, back to John’s front, into a crushing embrace. John’s more humanoid hands crossed over his chest, sharp legs caging him in and scratching lightly at his sides and hips. A shudder ran through him, leaning his head back and twisting his neck to grin at John. For all his urgency, John still took a moment to press what could be kisses if they were to come from a human mouth, along Arthur’s temple and down his neck.
The legs digging in along his sides stilled, and Arthur could feel the shudder that rolled through John’s body as if it rolled through his as well. John had sunk them down onto the floor, Arthur’s thighs on either side of John’s abdomen, pulsating against his skin, his legs bent at the knee and braced on the floor. It curled up slightly, as if straining to touch the man that rested on its length, though it was not as flexible as it was when not so bloated. Arthur ran his hands along the smoothness of it, feeling the way the eggs moved slightly under his ministrations. Behind him, he felt more than heard the breath catch in John’s throat, a pulse of motion rolling down Arthur’s back and ending between his legs.
A squirming under Arthur’s hands brought his attention back to John’s abdomen. He had buried his face in Arthur’s hair at the back of his neck, cool breath coming in puffs against his skin, quiet abortive moans and shivers as Arthur squeezed where he felt the squirming. He followed the motion from the base of John’s abdomen, all the way to the tip, John’s small noises becoming louder as Arthur moved. He leant over slightly to reach it, grinding his ass back against John, where humanoid hands grabbed and massaged the flesh. He seemed to enjoy the weight Arthur had put back on, the way his fingers sunk slightly into the meat of it.
Arthur grinned to himself, thinking of how damned awkward the first time they had been together like this, and how comfortable he felt now. He ran his fingers along the slit at the end of John’s abdomen, and felt a dripping fluid coat them, his grin widening as John whimpered.
“Oh, is someone eag-” he began, before he felt something brush up against his fingers.
Peering closer, Arthur saw something pressing against the slit. From where his hands were wrapped, he could feel the squirming almost directly under the chitin, rubbing up against his hands from within John’s body. For a moment, he was afraid the eggs were already coming, worried about how long they could be exposed. It was not an egg that slipped finally out of John’s abdomen, accompanied by a drawn out moan from behind Arthur, but some sort of slick appendage. It met Arthur’s fingers and curled over his palm, flexible and eager, seeking the warmth of his flesh.
Arthur gasped, trailing his fingers along the length of it, fascinated. He had never seen this part of John, he doubted the man was even aware of it, and he wrapped his fingers around it gently. A shudder passed from John to Arthur, who couldn’t help the redness coming to the surface of his skin along his cheeks and chest. Even with his long pianist’s fingers, Arthur could only just wrap his hand around the thing, tightening his grip slightly in doing so. The appendage thrust into his grasp, seeking more of that tightness, slipping further out of John.
“What is this?” Arthur murmured, almost to himself.
“I don’t fucking know, Arthur,” John moaned into his hair, panting and shivering at Arthur’s explorations.
Arthur couldn’t help himself, he bent towards the appendage, straining in his grip, seeming to meet its limit about a foot out of John’s body, though it tried for more, wrapping insistently around Arthur’s wrist. He let out a breathy chuckle as it squeezed, punctuated by John groaning low and deep in his chest. It seemed to sense the damp heat of Arthur’s breath, abandoning his wrist in favour of darting up towards his mouth. Arthur started at the sudden motion, but could only twitch back, John bent over his back and wrapped around him. It smeared the fluid over his lips, slipping past where they had parted in surprise and wriggling down his throat.
Choking, Arthur shoved back against John, slapping at his hands where they were still grasping Arthur’s hips. With a reluctant whine, he allowed Arthur to lean back with him, and the appendage fell from his lips. Arthur panted for a moment, laughing breathlessly. John twitched behind him, panting in harmony, dragging his tongue along Arthur’s pulse. Arthur felt the sharp brush of his fangs, and then a sweet little point of pain where they dug into his skin. He yelped, slapping a hand over where he had felt the fangs sink in, and twisted to glare at John.
“Did you just fucking bite me? Jesus christ, John!” he quipped, though affection, not bitterness, tinged his words.
“M’sorry, didn’t mean to,” John murmured back, a slight slur to his words.
He didn’t notice it at first, head already fuzzy with arousal as it was, but Arthur soon felt a weightless quality come over his limbs. He shifted back against John, his hips canting forward as his cock pulsed with a fresh wave of arousal. He moaned quietly, John’s hands feeling red-hot where they grabbed at his hips and ass, though he knew at the back of his mind that they must be as cool as they ever were.
“John, fuck, I think- I think there was something-” Arthur cut himself off with a low moan, John having finally noticed his needy cock, and wrapped a smooth hand around it. Now those hands felt cool against the flushed skin, so hot, so heavy. Every part of his body felt floaty, tethered to this world by the weightiness of his cock laying in John’s hand, weeping precum as he stroked slowly, squeezing near the head so it dripped along the length and smeared between his fingers.
Bucking into John’s hand, Arthur let his body fall back, John’s many legs welcoming him into their embrace. His head fell onto John’s shoulder, and for a few moments he simply laid there and indulged in the pleasure, rolling his hips languidly. John hummed out a pleased tone, melody falling and rising with Arthur’s movements. He brushed his fangs again over Arthur’s neck - hesitant, but offering. Arthur let his head fall to the side, exposing the slender length of his neck, silent response to John’s silent question.
This time, as John’s fangs pierced his skin, Arthur was prepared for it. John was careful, and the pain was dulled by the venom already in his system, only a faint stinging pressure. Arthur could almost feel it driven through his veins with each beat of his heart, a shiver starting at the back of his neck and reaching down to the tips of his toes, a cool tingling strewing gooseflesh over his skin. Every tense muscle loosened, Arthur felt almost limp in John’s arms, distantly glad for how desperately John clung to him. After a few moments, John retreated, lapping at the tiny punctures and letting out a low hum at the metallic taste.
Though the world took on a decidedly hazy tone, Arthur didn’t necessarily feel impaired. It was nothing like being drunk, his mind felt sharp, every slight brush of his skin against John’s chitin bright and central in his focus - the rest of the world was now simply unimportant. It was the best sleep he’d ever had, the most satisfying meal, the most intriguing case - it drew him in and laid waste to any unhappy thought, any discomfort he felt in his body.
Seemingly displeased at being neglected, the appendage poked insistently at Arthur’s thighs, leaving trails of slick viscous fluid in its wake, smearing over the head of his cock and mingling with his own fluids. Arthur’s mouth hung open in a moan, and he reached down to play his fingers over the tip of it. There, he found that it had a slit in it as well, parting slightly and leaking a small gush of fluid as the pads of his fingers ran along the seam. John jolted and keened behind him, legs tightening around his ribs. He wrapped a set of humanoid hands around Arthur’s upper thighs, spreading them wide. With the second, lower set, he reached between Arthur’s thighs, trailing his fingers lightly down the underside of his balls and circling where they met his hole.
Arthur’s hips jerked, and he gasped around a moan. John’s fingers were already slippery; Arthur didn’t know when he had found the time to lube them up, but he was grateful nonetheless. The first finger slid in easily, the venom working its magic in concert with the nights they had spent working Arthur open on John’s fingers. It felt like it went on forever, curling and curling into him, and Arthur felt a shudder of relief pass over him, tension he hadn’t been aware he was still capable of holding bleeding out of him.
Impatient, John soon slipped his finger back and added another, spreading them wide. Arthur groaned and rocked his hips into it, driving John’s fingers deeper. Only the third finger caused him any sort of discomfort, and then it was just the barest stinging stretch, quickly replaced with a tingling pleasure that cascaded up his spine and curled his toes. John had hooked his chin over Arthur’s shoulder, watching as he spread the man open. He made small whimpering noises along with Arthur, and the appendage writhed against Arthur’s thighs, more and more fervent.
“A-Arthur…” he stuttered out, voice pleading.
Arthur fucked himself down onto John’s fingers, near mindless in his need to feel more, to be filled and fucked and taken. A pulse of fluid seeped out of the wriggling organ, dripping onto his cock and down between his cheeks, further easing the slick press of John’s fingers inside him.
“Ready- I- John, fuck, more-” he managed to gasp out, his whole body tingling with need.
“Yes, oh, Arthur…” John moaned in response. “I’ll give you everything .”
As he eased his fingers out of Arthur, he used his remaining hands to shift the man down, reverent in his motions even as his hands shook. He guided Arthur’s legs to brace against the floor in his new position, hips held up by one set of John’s hands and his torso cradled in the embrace of John’s legs. Arthur felt like he was suspended over some kind of precipice, body weightless, and he let his head fall back against John’s chest . He grinned up at him upside down, and John bent his head down, pressing his mouth to Arthur’s forehead, plumose antennae brushing against Arthur’s neck.
In this new position, the organ that extruded from John’s abdomen had unfettered access to Arthur’s ass, and took full advantage. It slipped along the inner creases of his thighs, then between his cheeks, smearing viscous substance as it went. It ground against Arthur, rubbing against his hole and the underside of his balls, drawing a whine from him as he bucked his hips down in tiny jerks, held firmly in John’s hands as he was.
The head of it caught on the ring of muscle so neatly tucked in Arthur’s core, and a renewed fervency took hold. Arthur’s breath caught around a moan, John letting out a strained keen, shuddering under him. The thing seemed to have a mind of its own, instantly driving up and into Arthur, filling him more than John’s fingers could hope to. He gasped in a couple breaths, feeling like all air was driven out of him from the inside. The appendage thrust in and out of him a couple times, and then settled, each movement feeling like it rearranged Arthur from inside out.
“Oh, Arthur, perfect, perfect,” John chanted in his ear.
Once it was apparently appropriately positioned, the organ didn’t move much inside Arthur. Everything around him was still, even his abortive attempts at breathing feeling like they disturbed some fragile moment - it wasn’t quite painful, but certainly overwhelming to his senses. Even John beneath him had stopped all of the shaking and twitching he had been wracked with in his desperation. Arthur relaxed, his arms falling to his sides and past, hanging limply as his body worked to accept the intrusion. He could feel it pulsing, immobile, the lack of motion only giving emphasis to how utterly full he was.
Arthur lifted one of his arms, the effort near insurmountable, but he had to know. He reached down between his legs, brushing against his cock as he did, making himself twitch and moan, feeling a shudder beneath him as John felt the resulting tightening around him from the wave of pleasure it shot through Arthur. He could feel that the appendage wasn’t even fully inside him, maybe a third still exposed, as he teased his fingers over the expanse between himself and John’s abdomen. He felt where it met in John, the bridge between them bathed in slick substance, and John murmured out insensible words at his exploration. As he trailed his fingers over the flesh, he felt it grow thicker under his fingers, the slit in John’s abdomen stretching taught as it was widened from inside. John had his face shoved into Arthur’s hair, halting gasps replacing his attempts at words, breath tickling the back of Arthur’s neck.
As the egg passed from John, Arthur felt it move. He followed the motion as it swelled under his fingers, reverent and not daring to take a breath, to make a noise. It passed under his fingers slowly, steadily, and he followed it as it moved through John to where it pressed against his hole. John’s hands tightened on his ass, and Arthur sucked in a breath reflexively, though it was immediately driven out of his lungs as he was stretched impossibly wider by the egg continuing its path into him. He shook, mouth hanging wide, the deliberate push against him giving him no time to adjust to the new pressure. And then, as soon as it had started, the egg was through, filling Arthur more than he thought possible.
He could feel it as it settled in him, as if all the world’s gravity was focused deep within Arthur, centralized on that one egg. He had seen, when he found John prone on the floor, that there were many more to come. A cold sweat pricked along his skin, he had no idea how he was going to take another of these, let alone the at-least couple dozen he had seen.
As it turned out, Arthur wouldn’t be given time to really wonder. Under his fingers, another swelled, just as steady as the last, unrelenting pressure against his hole and settling weighty within him. Below him, John breathed shallowly, quiet whimpers and shaky hands and shuddering against Arthur’s back. Just as the first two, another egg came, and Arthur was still unprepared for it, whining as he was stretched and filled, feeling like he was the one being consumed.
“Arthur, fuck, I can’t- God, they’re- Arthur-” John choked out, shaking his head and panting.
Only then, Arthur realized that John had still been holding back. The methodical pace had been deliberate - an attempt, however unfruitful, to not overwhelm Arthur. Half choking on a laugh, he let his head fall again, back onto John’s chest. Though the world around him retained its hazy quality, John’s face was too-clear, an intensity of focus that drew Arthur in and held firm. He reached up and back, gently smoothing a frazzled antenna between his fingers.
“John, I told you,” he gasped out. “Take what you need.”
Big words for someone trembling so heavily, but Arthur had made up his mind already.
Below him, John took a couple heaving breaths. His hands tightened where they wrapped around Arthur’s waist, and without preamble, the world upended around him. John swept Arthur's legs back from under him, the sudden motion shifting the eggs within, and Arthur gasped around what could have been laughter, but ended up as a jagged moan. The lightness in his limbs made it feel like he was soaring as John threw them both forward. He cupped Arthur’s head so he didn’t slam it against the floor as he shoved Arthur’s face into the floor and tugged his ass up and back towards him, still stuffed full.
Arthur stretched his arms forward, fingers curling and nails scratching against the rough wood of the floor, reveling in the way he could feel the eggs shift further within him in this new position, the languid stretch of his body, taught and ready. John threaded long fingers through his hair, gently curling them into a fist, and Arthur leaned his head into it, giving silent permission. The fingers tightened, the sharp pain of it dulled by the venom still coursing through Arthur’s veins, decoration to the onslaught of sensation he was already processing.
John’s body pressed down above him, craning over Arthur’s back, myriad sharp shorter legs taking hold along his ribs and down to his hips, rendering Arthur near-immobile. His head tucked near to Arthur’s ear, John was letting out a flurry of soft clicking and humming sounds, Arthur’s world reduced to the sting along his scalp, the way John bound him to himself, and the fullness inside him. It felt less overwhelming now, more indulgent, a decadence.
“Hope you weren’t bluffing,” John panted into his ear.
A vibrating shiver passed through John, Arthur could feel it in his whole body, every point where he and John were connected transferring the sensation through his skin. He felt another egg press up against his ass, and this time a thrill shot through him, not a pang of fear - fear had been left for upright Arthur - face-down ass-up Arthur felt greedy for it. He tilted his hips, relishing in the way his hole stretched around the egg, how he could feel every inch as it settled within him.
Above him, John all but snarled, and Arthur could feel the vibrating become a pulsing rhythm, singing where John’s chitin pressed into his skin. Right behind its kin, another egg forced itself into Arthur, and he struggled to suck in a breath between them. John’s hands grabbed at his hips and ass punishingly, sharp edges and smooth chitin sending Arthur’s head spinning. He thrust in impossibly further, and Arthur let out a strangled moan, rocking back to meet him. Another egg, and another, came quickly, Arthur’s ragged gasps not nearly enough to keep his vision from swimming. John yanked on his locks, pulling his head up and back.
“Fucking breathe, Arthur,” he growled, dragging a hot stripe with his tongue along Arthur’s jaw.
Arthur obeyed and gulped in several lungfuls of air, fingers tingling where they splayed against the wood of the floor, grasping at not much at all in an attempt to right himself.
“Good boy,” John murmured, and let Arthur’s head fall from his grip.
He didn’t have much time to miss John’s fingers curled around the strands before he was being filled, again and again, eggs coming in time with the pulses that Arthur felt deep in his bones. Jagged breaths and whimpers were layed like prayers against the back of his neck, and his cock twitched as John groaned his name between them. Arthur moaned open-mouthed and drooling, forehead pressed into the cool of the floor. He felt so heavy, and utterly weightless at once. John taking parts of his body, however unwittingly, had been terrifying. Now, Arthur relished in relinquishing his body, the whole of it, into John’s hands. Every egg that found home within Arthur reshaped him, remade him - a most perfect vessel, once-human, now- oh, Arthur didn’t care anymore. He could feel the way his skin stretched taught along his torso, his back arched to near breaking, but no, John knew his body, and Arthur was only pushed and pulled to the very precipice of pain, where it danced its languid dance with pleasure.
The dance was made for a duet, and as thought tried to step in it was curtly shown the door. Arthur’s world shrunk to the grain of wood slowly becoming slick with his saliva, shifting under his eyes as John rocked into him, mouth hung open and letting out a constant chorus of moans and whimpers and pleas. It was all he could do to follow John’s instruction to breathe, so that was what he focused on. He sucked in air as slowly, as steadily, as he could. He felt when his lungs filled and his diaphragm pressed down in his swollen torso, shooting pleasure through him as the eggs pressed relentlessly against his prostate.
A rhythm built between them, once Arthur had gotten a handle on his breathing. With each inhale, he felt a vibrating wave pass through John, and on each exhale it moved through to Arthur, the swell as each egg filled him dragging pleasure up along his spine to his fingertips. No longer his own person, Arthur had become a rolling sea, sinking into the lull of his own pleasure, ebbing and crashing - John, the moon drawing his waves.
One of John’s hands moved from its punishing grip on Arthur’s hip, slinking down to smooth over his distended stomach, pressing in where he could feel the swell of the eggs just under the skin. Arthur’s litany of low, mindless moans cut off in a sharp keen as the eggs pressed even harder against his prostate, canting his hips back and chasing the sensation. He hadn’t even realized how damned close he was to coming, the impossible increase of pressure smacking him across the face as his cock twitched desperately. John hummed into his ear, pressing harder and harder, and Arthur writhed in the grasp of his many legs. Pleasure stacked on top of itself, coiling into an ache deep within him, and Arthur almost sobbed as his neglected cock dripped lazy ropes of cum onto the already-slick floor with each thrust of John’s hips. It gave him no relief, each pulse only driving the burning pleasure through his veins more feverishly.
Arthur abandoned his steady breathing, gasping in air and rocking back into John’s thrusts, legs shaking as he moved. John’s hand returned to his hip, digging his fingers into the forgiving flesh there, tugging his hips back and holding him steady. The rhythm had lulled him, this new frantic pace spiking the sharp pleasure burning in his belly, and distantly Arthur felt tears roll down his cheeks, the cum still leaking out of his cock, the sweat dripping down his spine and along his neck. He moved like an animal possessed, spine curved and fingers and toes curling, babbling and moaning without thought.
He hardly noticed as John stilled, ragged breaths turning to a soft chuckle on the back of Arthur’s neck. Arthur whined helplessly, canting and rocking his hips back, uselessly with John still holding him tight, desperate tiny motions.
“Arthur, fuck, Arthur it’s done,” John gasped into his hair.
“No, no, please, more,” Arthur moaned. “I need- I need more, John, please, plhhn, please-”
He was so full, every nerve in his body on fire and screaming for release. John shifted behind him, and Arthur nearly sobbed, pressing the length of his body back, unwilling to lose any contact. John’s arms wrapped around his chest, keeping him tucked close as he maneuvered Arthur into a sitting position, back braced against John’s front, just like how this had all started. Arthur let his head fall back against John’s chest, shuddering and rolling his hips in little jerking circles, relishing in the way the eggs moved inside him.
John’s breaths came shaky, interspersed with soft moans, twitching legs scrambling against Arthur’s ribs as Arthur fucked himself down, John still deep inside him. He slid his hands reverently over Arthur’s stomach, each motion within Arthur visible as the eggs shifted. Arthur’s cock hung heavy over his belly, head red and swollen and still-weeping. John reached out and took it in hand, swiping his thumb over the tip and watching as a drop of cum fell onto where the eggs distended Arthur’s stomach. Arthur jerked in his arms, mouth open in a silent moan, feeling like all the air was knocked out of his lungs with that one touch.
“Oh Arthur, so good, you did so good,” John murmured into his ear between quiet, overstimulated gasps. “Let me take care of you now.”
As John’s hand wrapped more firmly around his cock, Arthur’s world went white for a moment. That languid dance his pleasure and his pain had fallen into took a dive into a fever-pitch, warring with each other inside him, each slow pull of John’s hand against his most sensitive skin drawing a cry from him. He could feel the way his body wanted to contort, either to chase the sensation or to retreat, but John held him still, and he danced along on the knife’s edge for what felt like aeons. He choked out a sob, fingers white-knuckled where they wrapped around John’s wrists, and just as he thought he was about to fucking die, wave upon wave of pure, burning pleasure shot through his body. Every atom sung, his cock pulsed and dripped what little it had left to release, the ache within him uncoiling and throbbing through his veins.
Arthur fell boneless in John’s embrace, his body twitched and shook in the aftershock and he gulped in air like a man drowning. John laughed breathlessly into the hair at the back of his neck, and once he no longer felt like he was about to pass out, Arthur started to laugh along with him.
“Not bluffing, then, I suppose,” John chuckled.
“I suppose not,” Arthur replied, still out of breath, amusement and affection tinting his words. “Now get the fuck out of me, John.”