Alien Egg Party

Xiver is a popular and well-paid sex worker on an alien space station, and is most famous for being biologically suited to taking a lot of dick - and specifically, a lot of eggs. This makes him a perfect fit for a group of twenty wasp-like aliens on a business retreat looking to celebrate a corporate victory and blow off some steam by laying eggs in him. Xiver is confident this whole thing will be a breeze. His safety coordinator, Nacar, has some doubts - but that's why xe's there to keep him safe.

Content Notes: Gangbang × Glory Hole × Stuck in a Wall × Oviposition × Mildly Dubious Consent × Sex Work × Alien Sex × Size Difference × Double Penetration in One Hole × Quadruple Penetration × Overstimulation × Alien Biology × Breeding × Neopronouns

*

"Just a final confirmation - you're sure about this?" The safety coordinator, Nacar, sounds genuinely concerned as xe preps Xiver, and Xiver shoots xir a wink and a grin, obligingly folding in his spurs to let Nacar get the cuffs on his ankles easier. Nacar clicks at something on xir remote control, pulls his legs up so that his knees are almost at his chest, thighs spread. The floating cuffs stick where Nacar puts them, don't budge when Xavier tugs experimentally.   "This angle good?"

"Oh yeah," Xiver purrs. The seam of his breeding slit twitches, threatening to split at the attention and the familiar thrill of being bound. Nacar measures the height of the platform Xiver's reclining on, humming thoughtfully.

"Okay, this whole thing needs to come down about a third of a meter," xe warns, and Xiver braces himself against the lurch of the platform as it sinks. The cuffs are synced to the platform, thankfully, since the angle of his thighs stays the same. Nacar measures again, and nods, thoughtfully. "I'm going to tip it back a little, too, make things a little easier for your guests."

"Sure thing." The platform tilts, canting Xiver's hips just slightly higher than his head, which only increases the feeling of being exposed. "Oh, I'm loving this," Xiver informs the safety coordinator.

"Glad to hear it." Nacar opens up a pack of gloves, sliding one on so xe can pick up an injection tube. "Open up for me, I need to put a lubrication capsule in."

Xiver whines, protesting. "Gavot are tiny and I self-lubricate, what do I need one of those for?"

"There's twenty of them, so the capsule's mandatory. Take it up with Skult if you're unhappy about it. I thought you liked the lubrication capsules?" Nacar rubs two gloved, businesslike fingers over Xiver's sealed seam, and Xiver obediently lets it split open so xe can slide the thick syringe inside him, depress the plunger.

Xiver squirms as he feels the flat disk of the capsule slip free and adhere to the inner wall of his egg channel. It pulses out a dose of lubricant as Nacar withdraws the tube, a seep of slick fluid escaping as it slides all the way out. An instinctive shiver of arousal runs up Xiver's spine at the sensation, his hindbrain convinced Nacar's trying to mate him. "I mean, I don't hate it, it's just redundant."

"Uh-huh." Nacar disposes of the injection tube in the recycler. "I'll leave it up to you to decide whether you need any further prep, then. Do you want to be dilated?"

Xiver laughs, seals his slit shut again to keep the lubricant inside. "Oh, come on, let's give them a chance to actually touch the walls."

"Don't be rude," Nacar says. "They're scared of you enough already. I'm going to put up the barrier now, alright? I'll be keeping watch on both sides, you know the drill. Communicate with me if you need something. I mean it. If you're so much as mildly uncomfortable, tell me before it becomes a problem. It's going to be a long night, pace yourself."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be sleeping through half of it."

"Manners, Xiver."

Nacar takes a few steps back, clicks something on xir remote, and the barrier slides down from the ceiling and into place. Wherever it makes contact with Xiver, it flows around him, enclosing his lower body in unyielding, opaque elastisteel. Xiver shifts a little, getting comfortable before it firms up. When it does, he's got his feet planted against the wall and cuffed there, the wall gripping his thighs and exposing only his breeding slit, canted up for access.

"Do you want a window?" Nacar asks, from the other side of the wall.

"Sure, but get me a third person view? I want to see how I look."

A screen flickers into existence at Xiver's eye level. The reception room is a big room, empty for now, and tastefully decorated. There's refreshments available, scattered on tables throughout the room, and dormant holoscreens waiting for input. There's quiet, tasteful music playing. It looks for all the world like an ordinary upscale conference room, except for one wall, where there is a small, recessed alcove lit in soft, warm light that shines down on the glistening violet seam of Xiver's slit, nestled between broad, scaly thighs. Barely recognizable as belonging to a person, just a toy installed for free use.

Xiver trills, gleeful. "I look like a treat. When are they allowed in?"

"Doors unlock..." Nacar pauses, presumably checking the time. "Right now."

There's a click, and the door opens. A stream of chattering Gavot come through, diverting to various refreshment tables and holoscreens in twos and threes. Gavot aren't large, even by galactic average standards, which are pretty small to begin with. They top out at less than half of Xiver's three meters in height, with segmented, silver exoskeletons, long, feathery antennae, and eyes that are clusters of shining pits. They tap their antennae together in polite greeting, talking and laughing, as Xiver tries to guess what they're packing under their robes.

He probably should have read more of the information packet than just the summary paragraph and warnings. They're all dressed more formally than he'd expected, like it's a business meeting. Or some sort of sales goal celebration? He's pretty sure it's work-related for them. That was also probably in the packet.

The first group of Gavot notices the little alcove where Xiver's on display, and Xiver's blood quickens with excitement as they approach him, clicking and talking to each other.

"What are they saying?" Xiver asks. Nacar wordlessly hooks Xiver's translator into the audio in time for him to hear one of them say,

"Now I can see why they only rented us the one, look at the size of this thing. How big's the rest of it, I wonder?"

The translator flashes up a small note on his screen, explaining that the pronoun they're using is the kind of pronoun used for useful things rather than respected sapients. Asshole. Xiver's slit pulses with arousal anyway.

Inquisitive fingers probe at Xiver's slit, trying to press into the sealed seam, and he obligingly splits it open for them. Lubricant drips out immediately, courtesy of the lubricant capsule and his own lazy arousal, and the Gavot mutter excitedly about it, clicking and chirping.

Three fingers slide inside him immediately, prodding at his insides, casually inspecting him. The Gavot knuckle-deep inside him spreads their fingers, watching Xiver's slit stretch, and Xiver shivers at the casually rough treatment. It's not even that it's a particularly notable stretch, but the exoskeleton on the Gavot's slender fingers is unyielding, intrusive, and he can see his slit gaping obscenely on the camera, the vivid violet of his insides visible between the Gavot's silver fingers.

"They asked not to be recorded during the breeding process, so I'm going to have to cut the camera now," Nacar says, just before the screen flickers off and Xiver is left alone in the small, warmly lit room, with no visuals on the aliens touching him. His only cues are the murmur of their voices, picked up in bursts by his translator, and the sensation in his slit as they touch him.

"Here, feel," he hears one of them say, clearly, and the first hand withdraws, replaced a moment later by a second, fingers scissoring inside him. All of his senses seem to narrow down to the contact on his slit, sensitive and aching, and he feels a pulse of wetness as the lubrication capsule gives him another little spurt of fluid. It drips out of him where hes being held open, and the fingers scoop it up, push it back into him.

"Wet," says another, and then fingers hook into either side of his hole and pull him wide, as if seeing just how far he'll stretch. The next little gush of wetness is entirely his own, and he feels a couple more fingers slide into him, before there's a hushed murmur of conversation and all the fingers pull out at once. There's a pause while Xiver drips expectantly onto the ground, waiting, the rustling of clothing being undone.

Something narrow and smooth rubs across his opening, and Xiver has barely a second to brace himself before it's slammed inside him, the Gavot clearly deciding they didn't need to be gentle with him.

And, well, it's not like they're wrong.

He clenches down around the intrusion, trying to gauge exactly what brand of genitalia this is. That's what the pamphlet is for, usually, but if he's going to be imprisoned and used like a sex toy for hours, he likes to make it a little interesting for himself. Whatever's penetrating him appears to be a slender, tapered rod. Probably an ovipositor, given the sort of people who Xiver tends to get assigned to, and his manager Skult had mentioned something about eggs in the briefing. It's long but not thicker than the couple of fingers that the Gavot had already put into him - barely thicker than the tube to put the lubrication capsule in. He almost laughs, but focuses on tightening around it, giving the Gavot something to fuck into.

The Gavot makes a high, repetitive clicking sound as they thrust into him. Nacar has clearly positioned Xiver well, because the Gavot has the leverage to fuck in pretty hard, jabbing with their slender cock. Xiver tries to move his hips, but can't against the solid elastisteel. Instead he just takes it, clenches down and muffles laughter when he hears their chirps of arousal.

The Gavot's ovipositor gets a little thicker as it keeps thrusting, swelling inside Xiver, not enough to really cause any kind of real stretch, but enough to make things a little more interesting. More importantly, though, it gets longer, and Xiver's surprised to feel it scrape and catch in the little divot of his egg-pouch's opening. The Gavot's thrusts hitch as they clearly feels there's something there. They rock, experimentally, and press forward, thrusting deeper, punching a gasp out of Xiver as he feels the tip of their ovi pierce into that inner pouch. It throbs inside him, buried as deep as it will go, and then flexes, an odd, familiar sensation that lights up Xiver's instincts with hunger, makes him trill and clench around them as he feels the first eggs start to push through the shaft.

The first egg presses through the narrow opening of the Gavot's ovi, depositing itself inside Xiver's egg pouch, and Xiver sighs in contentment at the lurch of heat in his belly, the rightness of it, though the egg itself is barely a couple centimeters in diameter. The second and third eggs follow shortly afterward, the angle of his hips ensuring they settle deep in his egg pouch, and then they come in a continuous stream, every little bead of an egg popping into him a pulse of pleasure.

The Gavot lays thirteen tiny eggs in his belly before their ovi slides out of him. His egg pouch clamps shut behind them, holding the eggs in, and he waits for the Gavot to step away and let the next person take him. Thirteen eggs per Gavot, twenty Gavot - that's going to be more than two hundred eggs in his pouch, maybe enough to make it feel a real stretch, like he's really being bred. He ripples his egg pouch, pulling the eggs deeper inside him to make room.

The Gavot inside him doesn't step back, though. Instead, there's a pause, and then a second rod gets shoved in him, thrusting in deep and unerring, piercing back into his egg pouch. The jolt of it surprises him. Do they have double ovis then? More eggs to fill him with? He croons in excitement as the Gavot fucks him again, short, sharp little thrusts that create interesting friction against his inner pouch opening, which is trying to squeeze tight enough to keep the eggs inside. When the Gavot comes again, though, stilling, it's not eggs but fluid which rushes into him, thick and viscous and cool, filling him. Ah. One of the cocks is for fertilizing fluid, then. His pouch squeezes tight around the Gavot's cock as they pull out, trying not to spill a drop of fluid, and then the Gavot finally steps away.

There's a somewhat louder volume of chatter after that, clearly discussing something.

"-At the same time?" one of the Gavot asks, close enough and loud enough to be a little clearer. The heads of two cocks held together rub against his slit, and he flexes it, eagerly, squirming as much as the elastisteel will let him. Yes, please.

The Gavot thrusts in, and Xiver croons, delighted. Yeah, this is much better. The Gavot's cocks clearly aren't meant to be used like this. They don't line up together perfectly, clearly are trying to spring apart, and are only squeezed together by Xiver's internal muscle. The pressure is great, and he ripples internal muscle around it, squeezing the cocks together and then letting them force him open as the Gavot thrusts hard and quick.

"Checking in," Nacar says, calmly. "Xiver, you doing okay? I can see they've gotten a little creative."

Xiver trills at xir blissfully.

"Use your words, please."

"This is great," Xiver manages, cheerfully, as the Gavot thrusts deeper. Their cocks really are long. Curved and hard, very little flexibility. He grunts as the Gavot manages to catch one cock in the opening of his egg-pouch, tries to flex open the opening to fit both in while squeezing down on them to keep the tips together. He can feel the come of the previous Gavot trickling out of the opening immediately, and the most recent Gavot's clicking increases in frequency as they thrust, finally managing to pop both cocks inside with a sharp, hard movement. He sighs, wanting to wrap his legs around their waist, keep them buried inside. His thighs tense, but he's held immobile. Just has to take it. "Almost as nice as a regular sized ovi."

Nacar's sigh of exasperation is a thing of beauty. "Well. Good to hear."

The comm cuts off, and Xiver lets his head fall back with a thump as the Gavot comes in him, hard, spilling eggs and fluid both at once. Sounds like an intense experience for them, based on the noises they're making, the spasming jerks of their cocks inside him. Just to be a bastard, he does one of his favorite tricks, and makes the muscle of his insides ripple, squeezing from root to tip, helping to squeeze the eggs out. The eggs are still barely perceptible inside him, not so much as expanding his egg pouch from its resting state, but he's looking forward to ten fucks from now when it might start to feel like a stretch.

The Gavot are chattering wildly now, an incomprehensible din that the translator isn't even bothering to try translating. The second Gavot pulls out, finally, and immediately fingers invade him, stretching him open, as they talk. Then a third Gavot takes their place, pushing in two cocks and pounding away at him, and he lets them, folding his arms behind his head. He's starting to get the hang of it, the way he needs to shift his egg pouch to make sure he takes both cocks inside, the rush and pop of eggs and fluid. A fourth swaps in, and a fifth.

"Need a break?" Nacar asks.

"Nah," Xiver says, a little drowsily. It's gotten repetitive already, not intense enough or novel enough to really be that interesting now that he's used to it. It's just friction and pleasure and the glacially slow filling of his egg pouch, and he's content to lay back and relax and take it, through the sixth and the seventh. He thinks about coming himself, but there's not enough sensation to make it happen without too much work to be worth it.

When the eighth pulls out, there's a long pause, long enough for Nacar to come and give Xiver some water, and enough that Xiver feels it when the lubrication capsule pulses again.

"Okay, you were right about the capsule," Xiver concedes. "They really don't self-lubricate at all."

"I'm always right. Drink your water."

Xiver drinks, obligingly, settling in. His slit is open, leaking slick, and he can feel a comfortable stretch in his egg pouch. How many eggs does he have? He's lost count. Around a hundred. Twelve more guests to take, and then he'll have taken them all. He's going to be so full, he thinks, dizzily.

Nacar puts a glove on, presses lightly on the little bulge of Xiver's egg pouch. Xiver squirms a little, but there's no discomfort. He's not that full, not compared to how full he could be. Nacar appears to agree, nodding to xirself, and slips out of the little booth where Xiver is lying, walking around to Xiver's exposed slit. Xiver trills, full-throated and uncontrollable, when he feels xir gloved fingers probe his interior walls. He clamps down on xir fingers, forces himself to loosen.

"Any pain?" Nacar asks, calmly, as though xe hasn't noticed. "Discomfort, tearing, soreness? There's no sign of injury externally, but-"

"No," Xiver manages, shoving down more embarrassing sounds. "No, no pain."

"Good," Nacar says, and xir fingers slip out of him. "You ready for more?"

"Yeah," Xiver sighs, and Nacar leaves, and the Gavot return to use him.

It's disorienting, not being able to see or predict them, and the music has gotten louder along with the chatter, so he can't even hear them very well. He'll be empty and slick, listening to the noise of the party, and then another pair of cocks is thrusting roughly into him. They use him like a toy, like an appliance, like convenient storage for their eggs.

Another pair of cocks shoves into him, and then there's a pause, some fumbling. Fingers slip into him alongside the cocks, stretch him open, pulling him wide, until he feels the heads of a second pair press against his opening alongside the first pair. He keens at the feeling of it, intentionally relaxes the muscles of his slit so that they can push in easier, but it's a stretch. Four cocks is just shy of stretching him to the limit, filling him with something big enough to feel with every aching inch of his passage. The gush of slick he produces is all his own, and he clenches and ripples around the cocks inside him, provoking groans outside

"They did not ask for permission to do that," Nacar says, very sharply, into Xiver's earpiece. "I'm shutting it down."

>"Hhhh," Xiver manages. "'S fine. It's so good."

There's a pause.

"As long as you're comfortable with it," Nacar says, finally. "But I'm putting a strongly worded note in their file."

It's so much. Rigid and hard and so much of it, and when the two Gavot start to thrust into him, they thrust out of sync, one slamming in as the other draws out, overwhelming friction and pressure that makes him want to sob. There's nothing he can do but take it. He loves it, wants to writhe and shriek and urge them on, wrap his legs around them, but all he can do is tremble, pinned, and make noise.

One of the Gavot presses at the entrance to his egg-pouch, even as the other continues to thrust. Their eggs slide into him like beads, one at a time, blissfully interspersed with pulses of come, and then he feels the other Gavot trying to push in as well, bullying their way in alongside. They can't quite get the right angle, despite all their trying, but the stretch and the stimulation and the motion alongside the eggs being laid is good. They finally manage to lodge the tip of their ovi into Xiver's egg pouch alongside the other Gavot, and Xiver almost shrieks, grabbing at the tops of his thighs and clawing for something to hold on to.

The eggs come, popping in alongside the others so that Xiver's getting an onslaught of them, sometimes two at once, and his egg pouch stretches and pulses. His pouch is full enough and the feeling overwhelming enough that he squeezes his eyes shut, back arching, and comes around all four cocks, body clamping down. His passage ripples, drawing the eggs farther up into his pouch, and he feels the wet release of his own come inside his pouch. He comes hard, too, helpless to stop it, blissfully overwhelmed.

The motion, though, knocks loose the second Gavot's place in his egg pouch, and he feels the odd sensation of eggs being deposited into his passage. He moans, still quaking from the aftermath of coming, feeling the stretch build. He can't draw them up into his egg pouch, not with the other Gavot still buried firmly inside him, plugging him up, so all they can do is stretch his passage, slip loosely around, slicked by come.

When the two Gavot finally pull out, some of the eggs come with them. Xiver clamps down, trying not to lose them, but the eggs are too small and he's been stretched too loose. All he can do is shiver as the eggs slip out, one by one. It's humiliating in a way which, perversely, turns him on even more. The Gavot are laughing at him.

Something touches his slit, and he squirms, realizing with a shock of lust that one of them is picking the eggs up off the ground and pushing them back into him. Not deep enough - they just keep slipping back out, and there's some laughter about it, a bit of chatter. A pause. The lubrication capsule pulses another sluggish dose of lubricant, and Xiver feels a Gavot press all their fingers in at once, shov in until their whole six-fingered hand is in him. He moans shamelessly as Nacar makes an unhappy noise in his ear.

"You fucking. Worry too much," Xiver manages.

Nacar growls, and he hears xir tapping hard on xir screen, leaving another note. "They aren't coming back," Nacar informs him, darkly. Xiver laughs, then moans as the fist shifts inside him.

The hand draws back, despite his whining, and then returns with an egg in its fist, pushing it deeper into him until it shoves up against his egg pouch, pops the egg inside. The process repeats, manually pushing all of the eggs back in him. They're not going to let him get away with taking a single egg less than what all of them can breed him with.

Another cock thrusts into him as soon as he has all the eggs tucked up in his egg pouch again, and Xiver drifts, oversensitive and glutted. They fuck him in ones and twos, make him take every egg they have to offer, and Xiver breathes through it, taking it all. His pouch is visibly swollen, bulging his abdomen, and he feels full up to his throat. Any moment now, he feels like he's going to open his mouth and have an egg squeeze out, glistening.

"Need a break," he mumbles, and Nacar says, immediately,

"Yes, of course. After this current partner, or now?"

"After this one," he decides, after a moment to think. He's lost count of which one this is, of how many he still has left to go. They're going to fuck him so full he passes out.

He groans, high and breathless, as the Gavot forces more eggs inside him. It's more of a struggle than it had started, the Gavot fucking sharply into him to push the eggs into his stretched pouch, stretch it out farther. His thighs won't stop shaking, and he greets the last egg with a sigh of relief as the Gavot draws out. For a moment, he thinks the egg pressing at the opening of his pouch is going to slide out, but he clamps down, shudders at the dull ache of his stomach muscles tightening around two hundred eggs and an unknowable quantity of come. Both the Gavots' and his own.

As soon as the Gavot is gone, it seems like Nacar appears out of nowhere, calm and reassuring, gently touching Xiver's stomach. Xiver whines at xir, complaining at the pressure.

"Are you done?" Nacar asks. "Say the word, and everything stops now. You've done more than enough."

Xiver hesitates, shifting his weight to feel the eggs move heavily inside him. Seems like a real shame to give up now, when he's already fucked so many of them. "How many more?"

"Three."

Three. He can handle three more. That's only, what, forty more eggs? He can deal with that. And then he'll have taken all twenty Gavot. Which is much more impressive than only taking most of them.

"I'll take them," he decides. "But." He stops himself before he can ask, embarrassed, but Nacar looks immediately concerned.

"What is it?"

"Stay with me?"

Nacar's calm, sympathetic face softens. "Yes, absolutely, whatever you need." Xe stands over Xiver, solid and settled, and reaches down for him. Xiver reaches back, holding xir hands tightly in his. Xe's smaller than him, and his hands engulf xirs. He makes a mental note to be careful not to squeeze too hard and hurt xir.

Nacar does something to signal to the Gavot that Xiver's ready for them, and then they're fucking into him again, making him whimper and whine. Nacar presses another hand against his abdomen, probing in a way which is embarrassingly hot.

"You're alright," Nacar decides. Xir voice is very calm. "You can take it."

"Yeah," Xiver gasps. "Yeah."

And he does, moaning high and tight in his throat as more eggs rush into him, fill him impossibly fuller, and there's still two more.

The second comes up, cocks pushing in, and Xiver is dizzy with it. He's bred to his limit and being fucked fuller anyway, and his thighs tense, instinctively trying to close, to pull away. He's stuck, though. Nothing he can do but let the Gavot sloppily fuck into him. He can feel tears start in his eyes at the overwhelming feeling of it, the helplessness and the fullness and the anonymous, faceless cocks driving into him like he's nothing more than a hole to dump eggs into.

"Xiver, you're crying, do you need to stop?" Nacar's tone is so carefully not panicked that Xiver snaps back to the present, squeezing his hands. He shakes his head, sniffs, feels tears start to escape.

"'S so much," he manages. "I fucking. Love it." It's only a little bit of a lie. It hurts in a way which sends him into a dizzy, distant euphoria. He sobs aloud at the feeling of more eggs inside him, breathes quick and shallow. His entire torso is sore and aching, muscles pushed outwards to make room for more and more eggs. "I can take more than this," he assures Nacar, which is somewhat more of a lie.

"I'm sure you can." Nacar squeezes his hands, hard. It helps.

The second Gavot pulls out, and Xiver's stomach aches. His entire lower body aches with the effort of holding eggs inside, and he turns his face into Nacar's hand, hauls in deep breaths. One more. He can handle this. His thighs are trembling.

The last Gavot fucks him, slow and leisurely. Even with both of their cocks held together it doesn't feel like much, not when he's been so thoroughly worked over. His slit is sore, he thinks, though its hard to tell beneath the all-consuming pressure and ache of his pouch. It's starting to protest at the repeated friction of something like three? Maybe four consecutive hours of getting fucked? He's lost all track of time. But he's almost done, and then he'll be able to purge the eggs inside him and start planning how to spend the insane amount of commission he's going to make from this.

The final eggs finally rush into him, and he's so full and aching that the further stretch is almost meaningless. It's just a slow increase of intensity, a build-up of pressure, and he finds himself holding his breath. There's just no room to breathe.

"Hey," Nacar says. "Deep breaths. I know it's a lot, but you need air."

Xiver whines, but obediently sucks in air, even though the expansion of his chest makes his body ache worse. And then the third Gavot pulls out at last, and Xiver's egg pouch seals. He is finished, and he's taken them all.

"Excellent work. Extremely impressive. We're ending this now." Nacar presses a series of buttons on xir remote, and the wall goes liquid, enough for xir to pull Xiver farther back into the privacy of the little booth and turn the whole thing solid again. The noise from the party outside immediately quiets, and Xiver whines, pressing a hand on his belly. The remote clicks again, and Xiver's cuffs unlock.

"Wait, I want pictures," Xiver manages.

There's a short, dubious silence.

"You are... incorrigible," Nacar says, but xe locks his ankles back into the cuffs and sends xir little drone to fly around him, capturing holograms. Xiver looks tearfully into the camera, arranging his face into coquettish suffering, lets it focus on his raw slit, the swell of his abdomen where his egg pouch has stretched so far there's bare hide visible between his silver-blue scales.

"Fuck, that's going to be hot," he says, and scrubs at his face. "Okay, we can do clean-up now."

Nacar lets the drone keep taking pictures, but uncuffs Xiver's ankles, easing his thighs down onto the bed. Xiver stretches, working out the tight ache in his lower back and hips and thighs from holding the same position for hours, and then winces at the added pressure on his abdomen. He curls up on his side, groaning theatrically.

"I'm going to sleep for a week," he announces, pitifully. "I deserve a vacation and a massage."

"I can help with the massage, at least," Nacar says, mildly. "After we get those out of you."

Xiver sits up to let Nacar to put the biowaste bin between his thighs and takes a deep breath, trying to bear down and lay the eggs finally. Nothing happens at first, and he whines, distressed. He's too tense for it, his body trying to hold onto its young, convinced he's not ready to lay yet.

"Help," he manages. And Nacar is there, with a fresh set of gloves.

The camera drone angles itself down between his thighs as Nacar slips an expert set of gloved fingers into Xiver's sore slit, deep enough to massage the opening of his egg pouch. Xe presses firmly down on the bulge of Xiver's abdomen as xe rubs, and Xiver sucks in a tight breath at the discomfort of the pressure, before moaning embarrassingly loudly at the feeling of release as his egg pouch finally opens and starts purging eggs in a steady stream.

"There we go," Nacar says. Xir voice is a little strained as xe keeps up the soothing massage at his pouch opening. Xir clean hand keeps massaging Xiver's stomach, hurrying along the laying process, and between that and the feeling of eggs rushing out of him, Xiver doesn't think he can be blamed for tearing up, or for coming again around Nacar's hand, gasping.

Nacar's breathing changes, just slightly, and Xiver whips his head up as he comes, trying to catch a look at xir face. Carefully, Nacar turns xir face away from him, but not before Xiver catches the flicker of an expression like lust.

"You can fuck me, if you want," Xiver tells xir, suddenly overcome with his own desire. He shudders as another pulse of eggs leaves his pouch, sliding into the bin. "No one has to know, I wouldn't tell anyone, you could fuck me. Put me back in the wall thing and I'll say I never even knew who fucked me."

Nacar pulls xir hand out of him immediately, and Xiver whines to see xir normally pristine gloves dripping with his own fluids. Xe peels off the offending glove, disposes of it. "Xiver, I'm not going to do that."

"Don't you want to?" Xiver pleads, shamelessly, and parts his thighs wider. "Look at me."

Nacar looks at him, sharp and lingering, and then stops touching him altogether, stepping back. "No. It would be wildly inappropriate, unprofessional, and an abuse of my position as your safety coordinator. This is a boundary I am setting. Don't ask me again."

Embarrassed, Xiver looks away, rubbing absently at his own stomach as the rest of the eggs leave him. The silence in the room is devastatingly awkward.

Finally, Nacar sighs. "You're not wrong that I... feel aroused," xe admits, very quietly, and Xiver almost chokes on his own tongue in surprise. "You're a very beautiful man who I have very intimate contact with. It's natural for me to respond - physically to that. That does not mean I want to actually have sex with you."

"No, I get it, I'm sorry," Xiver assures xir, hurriedly, and sits up, pressing out what feels like the last of the eggs.

Normally Nacar would hand him a warm, damp towel to wipe himself down, but under the circumstances, Xiver gets up to get it himself, squirming at the uncomfortable feeling of slick sliding down his thighs. Cleaning himself up gives him enough time to regroup, and he turns back around to smile at Nacar with every inch of his predatory, toothy smile.

He's head and shoulders above Nacar's height when he's standing, and the slight widening of xir eyes as xe looks up at him reflects that Xiver's species are born to be predators, even if he's not nearly as physically impressive as a female.

"Well," Xiver says, airily, and winks at Nacar. "It's a good thing you got all those holos for later, then, isn't it?"

Nacar's immediate flush of embarrassment is deeply satisfying, nearly as satisfying as the weary, full-body ache of the feat he just pulled off, and Xiver hums cheerfully to himself as he puts his pants back on. Yeah, that clinches it. He's the sexiest thing on this station.