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Wei Ying is given the choice between a general anaesthetic, or watching a machine with half a dozen little metal arms slice him open and rearrange his organs. He chooses the general anaesthetic.
It takes less time than he thinks it will before he's blinking awake to the chrome metal ceiling of the medical room. He looks down at his stomach, which just lies there, as stomachs do. It feels a bit numb and tingly, but the Lan apparently have muscle and skin generation technology, so there isn't even a scar. He's been told no strenuous activity for two day-cycles, and to also allow a couple of months for his new organs to integrate themselves into his body more naturally, but that's it.
He rolls his head to see Lan Zhan sitting next to him, one of Wei Ying's hands clasped between both of his own, waiting for him to notice him. Wei Ying grins.
"Hey, Lan Zhan! I'm officially a professional monsterfucker!"
̴̿̑͒͒ /̠̮̺̰̰̯̻̝́͐͜͞. ̵͈̦̝͉͇͉̦̆ͤ/ ̧̤̀̌̎͡ ͇̹̩̲̙̬̂ͪ͠ 恭 喜 你 ̢̹ͮ̔ͫ̀ͩͦ͘ ̸̢̺̘̝̭̜̩̹̪͍̽̄\ ̻̻̯͕͖͐ͪͤ̆ͨͧ̅͑. ̵̨̘͖̗̠͕̳̱ͮͬ͒͒̔ͪ\ says Lan Zhan.
Oh, that's right. Wei Ying fishes around for the little tray they'd given him to put all metal things in, and fishes out his piercings and his interpreter. He waves it at Lan Zhan and slips it back in his ear.
"Congratulations," says Lan Zhan dryly, probably because he has been fucking Wei Ying somewhere between three to twelve times a week for months now. Wei Ying beams at him, and tilts his chin up. Lan Zhan leans down to give him a chaste kiss on the lips.
At some point after their first meeting, Wei Ying had told Lan Zhan that some humans kissed each other as a greeting. Lan Zhan had typed it into his tablet doc on Earth customs and has diligently remembered it every time they see each other now. Wei Ying will probably break it to him that it's not really a thing from his part of Earth at some point; until then, he's reaping the kisses.
Lan Zhan helps him up. The muscle and skin regeneration is light years better than Earth technology, but it's still new skin and new muscle, so he can feel it baby soft and pulled tight when he moves. He pats himself down, marvelling at how complete it is; he never would have known he'd had an operation at all, if not for the stripe of hair missing out of his happy trail. He lets Lan Zhan tie a robe around him, leans on his arm and toddles slowly back to their rooms.
It's actually a bit awkward – Lan Zhan is taller than him just enough that he has to dip his left shoulder down for his arm to be the right height for Wei Ying to lean on, and his gait doesn't match well with Wei Ying's, since he's digitigrade. It would probably be much easier for Lan Zhan to carry him, but Wei Ying opts for the slow and steady instead.
At first glance, Lan Zhan looks mostly human. If Wei Ying had parents, he probably could have introduced Lan Zhan as good boyfriend material, until he opened his mouth and spoke in static. Or revealed the second set of teeth from his pharyngeal jaws.
Officially Wei Ying is on a diplomatic mission from Earth, as liaison to the Lan as part of their species conservation programme. Professional Monsterfucker is just snappier.
It came as no surprise to Wei Ying, who has dabbled in furry conventions and puppy exhibitions and so on, that when a technologically advanced alien species made contact, and it turned out that they were the last few of their kind who had been wiped out after their planet had been razed to the core by some other alien species, that there were no shortage of volunteers to help with the repopulation effort.
The United Nations Office for Outer Space Affairs (UNOOSA) had been inundated, in fact, with applications from people wanting to get it on with the aliens, especially when it turned out that they were hot. At least, the handful of them who had appeared on broadcast, anyway.
There had been a long eighteen months whereby no one had become an official monsterfucker because UNOOSA and the Lan had to come up with some way to filter their thousands of applications. There were biological requirements, obviously. Their request was for humans to live in space and bear their eggs, which was obviously a disappointment for anyone who just wanted to have a quick shag and move on, so an applicant needed to be able to incubate eggs to a viable term. There would be an invasive and permanent medical procedure to make the human body viable for egg laying, so there were some details around that which had put a good chunk of other people off.
(He'd questioned this after he'd been paired with Lan Zhan: "Some humans have wombs already, you know?"
Lan Zhan had wrinkled his nose: "Too wet. It would drown the eggs. They're very absorbent."
So that was that.)
There were still a significant number of applicants left after that, so then it became about how well they would integrate into Lan life. People with skills that would help with the rebuilding of a species, a culture, would be prioritised. The Lan didn't need doctors, because their own technology was so much more advanced than Earth's; they didn't need accountants or retail managers or marketing executives either.
Then there were people who dropped out when faced with the reality of uprooting their entire lives for several years, so ultimately, Wei Ying's half completed PhD in marine biology that is rapidly running out of funding is what gets him the job. Or – well, yeah. Job. He's not being paid for it, as such, because apparently the Lan don't believe in capitalism, but also he doesn't have to pay for anything anymore.
But the point is that what started out as a childhood interest in swimming in lakes and then a teenage interest in deep sea diving and then a stressful, self-funded degree in marine biology that ultimately cumulated in three years in a research lab futilely attempting to monitor eel reproduction has led to him living in space, on a spaceship, with a hot alien boyfriend. Take that, academia.
Also, it turns out that helping to monitor alien reproduction that bears a passing resemblance to Earth's various aquatic species is much easier than trying to teach undergraduate courses or coax eels into having sex. At least the aliens don't hide when they see him coming.
"No anal sex for two months!" Wei Ying flops dramatically over backwards onto their bed; the effect is ruined by the fact that the bed is filled with some sort of super absorbent gel stuff that's very good for his back and completely useless for histrionics.
Wei Ying is expecting Lan Zhan to tease him about it, especially given their first ever conversation, but Lan Zhan lowers himself onto the bed next to Wei Ying and pulls him in instead. Wei Ying rolls himself sideways and squashes himself into Lan Zhan's chest as Lan Zhan strokes over his back comfortingly.
"Also no strenuous activity for two day-cycles," says Lan Zhan, even as Wei Ying starts to mouths the soft, translucent skin of his throat.
"Then it will just have to be non-strenuous activity."
Lan Zhan gives him a look. It had taken Wei Ying a while to decipher Lan Zhan's facial expressions, largely because the Lan in general don't seem to use their facial muscles in the same way as humans, but he's fairly confident that this is an Unimpressed Look.
"What?"
"What is the point if it's not strenuous," mutters Lan Zhan, a low rumble of static that buzzes its way through Wei Ying's bones. He laughs, and covers Lan Zhan's face in sloppy kisses. Lan Zhan is the best. So funny.
"It only has to be non-strenuous for me," Wei Ying points out, and adds hopefully. "More blow jobs?" Lan Zhan's mouth is literally designed to suck tree sap out from branches, something his cock is very grateful for.
"Mmm," says Lan Zhan, a vibration against his cheek that doesn't come into his ear through his interpreter. "I would like to show you my anal fronds."
Wei Ying pushes himself up onto his elbows. "What." He cannot believe that six months into this arrangement with Lan Zhan is the first time he's hearing of this.
"Fronds," repeats Lan Zhan. "Is that the correct word in human?"
"Show me right now," says Wei Ying, pushing at Lan Zhan's chest until he lies back on the bed. He reaches for the robes – very glad the Lan wear robes, not a button or zipper in sight – until Lan Zhan is bare in front of him.
This, he's seen enough times. The lean chest and taut stomach, the extended pelvis area that makes his hips jut out (and gives him a great ass and thighs to go with it). The two cocks, currently lying soft against his belly – Wei Ying valiantly ignores those for now, bargaining with himself that he can get his hands and mouth on them later – and then Lan Zhan crooks one knee, drawing his leg up so that Wei Ying can see his asshole and oh damn.
He has been so remiss in his exploration of Lan Zhan's body. He desperately needs to apologise, because while they have had sex so many times in the last few months, he has not once rimmed Lan Zhan. (It's not like he doesn't want to, it's more like sometimes he'll think about it, but then they get naked and Lan Zhan tries to bend him in two and he promptly forgets all about it. Lan Zhan is very distracting like that.)
"Oh my God," Wei Ying whispers. Lan Zhan's ass – well, it mostly looks human. Pale skin, exceptionally well-developed glutes, the envy of any athlete, borne from an upbringing on a planet with a higher gravity than Earth. Nice and firm and bouncy when Wei Ying has grabbed it before, which he does, often. The only thing that looks non-human is that around his asshole, there are fronds. He doesn't know how else to describe them, except that they look like delicate petals, spiralling in two neat layers around his asshole, making it look kind of like a baby succulent or a flower, or – okay, Wei Ying is going to put a stop to that right there, before his mind populates itself with bad porn prose.
He hovers his hands over Lan Zhan's thighs, like maybe he's not allowed to touch or anything, except then Lan Zhan is looking at him, very unimpressed, and oh, okay, that's the look of an alien who wants to get rimmed and currently isn't getting it. Fair enough.
Wei Ying strokes his hands down the inside of Lan Zhan's thighs – less soft than he is there, more muscle, more flesh, whole handfuls for Wei Ying to dig his fingers into as he kisses his way down.
When he breathes a little too hard, the fronds move. They flutter and curl up a little and it's so cute and Wei Ying is so turned on it's embarrassing. "Hnnnrrrgh."
Lan Zhan taps the side of Wei Ying's ear, which is one of their little signals that the interpreter didn't work.
"No, never mind," says Wei Ying, pressing a quick kiss into Lan Zhan's palm. "I was just busy having my mind blown."
Somehow, that doesn't help. "…Explosion?"
For fuck's sake. Now is not the time for linguistic confusion. Can't he see that Wei Ying is trying to work his way up to rimming him? "Later," says Wei Ying firmly, biting down on Lan Zhan's fingers. "For now – anal fronds."
Lan Zhan doesn't look less confused, but quickly gets on board with it when Wei Ying turns back to his asshole – where his fronds have uncurled themselves – and nuzzles it with his nose. He shivers, as Lan Zhan's fronds move, tickling his nose. He presses a kiss, in the middle, and then carefully licks his way out.
They look delicate, and they move against Wei Ying's tongue at the slightest sensation, and above him, Lan Zhan has one arm thrown over his eyes, the other fisted into a pillow. Wei Ying always was more of a practical demonstration sort of guy, even as a researcher, and it looks like Lan Zhan is picking up what he means this way much faster than if he'd tried to explain it. He doesn't tend to vocalise during sex as much as Wei Ying, but there's a bass rumble that's vibrating through the whole of his chest like a deep purr.
Wei Ying draws each of the fronds into his mouth gently, exploring them with his tongue, stroking them with the soft pads of his fingers as they flutter, furling closed and unfurling. He outlines Lan Zhan's asshole with one finger as Lan Zhan's ass clenches and twitches under him, drawing him in. When he sinks a whole finger in with almost no resistance, Lan Zhan comes with a shout, loud enough that Wei Ying's eardrums feel fuzzy afterwards, convulsing so hard that Wei Ying sits up before he gets knocked in the chest by a stray knee.
Lan Zhan stares at him with wide, shocked eyes.
"Yeah, I think we can add that to our repertoire," says Wei Ying as he eases his finger out, feeling very smug about himself.
Eight months ago
After completing the application, and the health screening, and the interview, and the second interview, Wei Ying finally hears back that he's been accepted into the reproduction programme, and has been invited to a compatibility session.
He vaguely assumes that it'll be like a speed dating thing, except maybe in space. He had not, really, expected it to be a four-hour sex marathon with an itemised agenda.
Lan Zhan is the fourth and last Lan to come visit him, and Wei Ying feels a little bit bad for him, because he was already well fucked out after Lan #1, let alone #2 and #3, and his asshole is so destroyed that he doesn't stand a chance of being counted as a half decent lay. Except Lan Zhan walks into the room – the weirdly sterile and bare smelling room because they did some complete air swap thing so that it doesn't reek of sex in between rounds – and takes one look at Wei Ying, half slumped in the sex swing that he has been told is an integral part of every reproducing Lan's bedroom, and decides to suck him off instead.
Lan Zhan hoists the swing into the air until Wei Ying can comfortably make eye contact with him and crowds into his space, looking at Wei Ying consideringly. "I have been told that the human penis contains many nerve endings."
"Sexy," Wei Ying mumbles, wide-eyed and still slightly loopy from the previous five orgasms.
Lan Zhan helps him to spread his legs, strapping them loosely into place. He eyes Wei Ying's soft cock – a bit raw and sensitive from being manhandled by now – and draws it into his mouth.
That's when Wei Ying finds out about the pharyngeal jaw thing.
Lan Zhan sucks Wei Ying off hard enough that the orgasm feels like someone punched him in the gut, and then he spreads Wei Ying's ass with his hands before Wei Ying even has the chance to process, squints critically at it and denounces it 'satisfactorily tight enough again'. Wei Ying squeaks, face flushed from both embarrassment and his sixth orgasm, and Lan Zhan blinks at him.
"You can't just... say it like that," mumbles Wei Ying, but then Lan Zhan is busy getting his first cock lined up to fuck him, and he sort of forgets about being angry.
Lan Zhan is ruthlessly efficient about the agenda. Not even counting the blow job, he gets through it faster than anyone else, and then fucks Wei Ying an extra time, just for good measure.
Afterwards, when Wei Ying is a boneless mess, Lan Zhan lowers the sex sling and carefully cleans him down, and then kneels next to him until Wei Ying regains his higher cognitive functions. "I am unsure if we are compatible," he says. "Your level of maintenance is too high."
"What," says Wei Ying, outraged. "I'm high maintenance?"
"You coupled with three others before me. If you require this amount of stimulation a day, it would be unsustainable for me," says Lan Zhan.
"Oh my God."
Lan Zhan looks unsure, and pokes the little metal stud in the top of his ear. "Oh my God. Exclamation (blasphemous)?" he asks uncertainly. Ah, that thing must be his interpreter then. Given their short exposure to the alien language, it's no wonder that the interpretations are sometimes a bit rough.
"Exclamation (surprise)," says Wei Ying faintly. "I don't – it's not a. Urgh. Where do I even start. Okay, firstly. I do not require eight rounds of sex a day. You're right, that is unsustainable."
Lan Zhan jabs at the wristband he has around his left wrist; it emits a hologram and he navigates through it with little swipes. "That is my misunderstanding, apologies. How many times is average for a human?"
Wei Ying vaguely wishes that he has clothes for this conversation. He throws his arm over his eyes instead. "Um. It really varies. For some people, maybe multiple times a day, but for me personally... uh, maybe once every few weeks? Once every few months? It really depends on if I'm seeing anyone, or how busy my research got or, you know. Lots of different social factors. Humans don't really mate on a cycle like other species do."
Lan Zhan is nodding away, tapping what is presumably notes on how to fuck a human into his wristband. "Very informative, thank you."
"What would be quite nice after all the fucking," says Wei Ying, mildly peeved by now, "is some damn cuddling."
Lan Zhan blinks at him owlishly, both his vertical and horizontal eyelids flickering shut and open again. Wei Ying sighs.
When the email about matching comes through a week later, Wei Ying is pretty surprised that he's been partnered with Lan Zhan.
Three months ago
It's surprisingly easy cohabitating with Lan Zhan. Their meals are provided by the Lan. His clothes and rooms are provided by the Lan. His electronics and so on won't work out here, in space, so he didn't bring a lot of stuff, which also means he can't leave it all over the place for a new partner to trip up over. Lan Zhan keeps his own things relatively tidy.
Their ship is large, built to accommodate a few dozen families throughout their lifetimes. It had been built before the Lan had been invaded, so now large swathes of it sit uninhabited. There are only four Lan and their partners living here, barely the minimum number of people required to keep the ship running.
Of the other humans on board, Meng Yao is a linguistics expert, and Nie Mingjue was a special forces pilot. They are both partnered with a Lan called Lan Huan.
"Do you need two partners?" Wei Ying asks Lan Zhan when he finds out. He's never tried the poly thing, but at the very least he wants to be able to talk about it.
"The older we get, the more eggs we are able to produce in one go," explains Lan Zhan. "He is older than me, so he will be able to produce more eggs than would comfortably fit in one human."
In hindsight, Wei Ying should probably have clarified how many eggs there would be before signing up for this. He'd asked about the shape and the size and consistency and the frequency and all of that, and somehow never the quantity. He asks.
"Between fifteen and twenty each cycle."
"Oh my God. That's so many. And Lan Huan...?"
"Sometimes up to thirty-two," says Lan Zhan. Wei Ying tries to imagine thirty-two eggs, slightly larger than duck eggs, inside him in one go. He must make some kind of noise, because Lan Zhan adds, "It is likely also because he is the leader of our clan, so his body is feeling the need to repopulate more quickly. Thirty-two is particularly high. I would not expect my quantity to increase by much even with age."
"Well," says Wei Ying faintly. "If I have to. For science."
Two months later
The fabricator unit in the shared living space of the ship is used for a variety of things – replica Earth furniture, new clothes, their food five times a day, et cetera – so Wei Ying tries really hard not to embarrassed when Lan Zhan programmes a spec for fifteen medium sized alien eggs, and watches as they plop out one at a time.
Lan Zhan puts them neatly into a bucket and holds them up for Wei Ying to look at when they're done. "Very realistic," he says approvingly.
The little fabricated eggs should not evoke such a reaction in him. They're little round pale blue things, speckled with white. They look like eggs, but a little rounder. They're slightly weighted, so that they're not hollow inside, they're sort of slightly rubbery in texture and honestly, they look like if Wei Ying tried to throw one at a wall, they would splat out and then bounce back. He's seen sex toys that look like this. And yet, the sight of Lan Zhan carefully putting them inside a bucket so that he can carry them to their room and stuff them up Wei Ying's ass is... sort of hot.
Across the room, Nie Mingjue is watching him with raised eyebrows.
"Practice," Wei Ying tells him, before looping himself around Lan Zhan's free arm and pulling him back to their rooms.
Lan Zhan is in the part of his cycle where he's growing the eggs inside of him, so they have just under a month until they're going to do this for real. But the bucket of fake eggs is lying on the floor next to their bed, and Lan Zhan warns him that they would only be structurally sound for the next week or so, or they were going to start to disintegrate.
The first part is all familiar – Wei Ying lies back on their bed, bending his knees up so Lan Zhan can see his ass. Lan Zhan follows him, all too eager, and presses nibbly kisses up the side of his leg, teeth worrying at a bite of Wei Ying's soft thigh until Wei Ying will definitely have some bruises there tomorrow. Wei Ying groans into it, and presses his foot encouragingly against Lan Zhan's ribs.
"Impatient," says Lan Zhan.
"I have been waiting almost two years for this," says Wei Ying. "I filled out paperwork for this. I practically had to write a paper for it. There was an abstract and methodology and everything–"
Lan Zhan cuts him off with a kiss. His tongue is longer than Wei Ying's, more versatile. It had definitely felt weird the first time they'd tried it, but they've figured out what works for them now. Wei Ying lets his mouth fall open so Lan Zhan can lick him open. He lets Lan Zhan drag his blunt teeth over Wei Ying's lips, bite down until Wei Ying gasps with the little shock of pain, smooths his tongue over. Lan Zhan's saliva has some sort of stimulant effect, and everything kind of tingles like a low-grade buzz of electricity. They make out, wet and fierce, until Wei Ying's jaw is aching and his lips are numb and his mouth is full of the static that falls from Lan Zhan's mouth.
Lan Zhan mumbles something that the interpreter doesn't quite pick up, his mouth too full of Wei Ying, but Wei Ying can feel his fingertips creeping closer to Wei Ying's asshole, knows what he's asking. He shifts his legs and suddenly Lan Zhan's weight is bearing down on his hips, his cocks hard against the line of Wei Ying's hip crease.
Wei Ying watches, mouth still agape, when Lan Zhan pulls back, a line of saliva stringing between them just before he sticks two of his fingers into Wei Ying's ass. Lan Zhan's hands are larger than his – which has absolutely not gone unnoticed by the gleeful part of Wei Ying's brain that loves being manhandled – and he has an extra knuckle on each finger. That, coupled with his determination to be the best at everything, has been devastating for Wei Ying's prostate.
Except right now, Lan Zhan is sliding right past where he knows Wei Ying's prostate is. Wei Ying groans, and kicks him in the back. Lightly, of course.
Lan Zhan bites him in the shoulder. "You will not last if we start too early," he says. Wei Ying begs to differ.
"Fifteen eggs," Lan Zhan reminds him.
Okay, fine. Maybe it is a bad idea to be too stimulated too early on. Wei Ying will just have to sulk through this perfectly adequate fingering instead. He tries, he really does, but then Lan Zhan bites his ankle at the same time as dragging the heel of his other hand up Wei Ying's cock, and urgh. He's such a slut for Lan Zhan.
Wei Ying makes grabby hand motions and Lan Zhan leans forward enough for Wei Ying to wind his hands around Lan Zhan's neck and pull him down for more kisses instead.
"Spoiled," sighs Lan Zhan, somewhere between the fifth and sixth kiss. He still won't hit Wei Ying's prostate though.
"Come on Lan Zhan, fuck me," says Wei Ying. "You've got to fuck me nice and open otherwise I'll be too tight for your eggs. Don't you want to fill me up?"
He runs a hand consideringly over Lan Zhan's belly. There are, hypothetically, little tiny eggs growing in there at the moment, although he probably won't swell noticeably until he's close to needing to pump them into Wei Ying.
Wei Ying is not usually one for dirty talk, but he's just had the medical all-clear from the transplant which means that he is cleared for anal sex for the first time in two months and Lan Zhan is just here, taking it easy. Can't he tell that Wei Ying is gagging for it?
It's not until Lan Zhan is thrusting his fingers all the way in and all the way out that Wei Ying notices the change in sensation. There's something slick now, easing away the friction of Lan Zhan's prominent knuckles, but he can't quite figure out what it is, because they don't use lube, and Lan Zhan hasn't rimmed him today.
"You're so wet," says Lan Zhan, his fingers making wet schlip noises.
"What," gasps Wei Ying.
"You're so wet," repeats Lan Zhan, holding a hand up to show him the slick clinging to his fingers before a string of it drips down onto Wei Ying's stomach.
"That's – me?" Wei Ying asks. Fuck, is that a thing he does now?
"The 松 ̸̗̋̏̄̉͘ 果̴̨̛͕̩̥̰̗͂̏̿͐̌͑͝体 gland," says Lan Zhan.
Oh, Wei Ying does remember that thing that has no translation. As part of the operation, the Lan had connected some other stuff that would help the infrastructure in there and help regulate the ecosystem inside the womb – Wei Ying had actually looked it all over really carefully before he let them put it inside himself, because he might be a monsterfucker but he's not a complete idiot, but he hadn't twigged that this would happen.
"I just… get wet up the ass now, huh," he says, meaning for it to come out facetious but realising halfway through the sentence that it's really fucking hot. Fuck. He can feel his entire face going red.
"Very wet," Lan Zhan confirms as he sticks his fingers back in there. "It will ease the way for the eggs."
"Good to know. I'll make a note in my report for UNOOSA," Wei Ying says weakly as Lan Zhan hoists Wei Ying up off the bed. He wraps his legs around Lan Zhan's waist automatically, and shivers when he feels the tip of Lan Zhan's cock slide up between his ass cheeks. He bounces experimentally, safe in the knowledge that Lan Zhan is totally strong enough to hold him, and hears a rumbly growl land on the side of his neck.
With one hand braced around Wei Ying's back, Lan Zhan manoeuvres him into the sex sling. (It's not technically called a sex sling, but Wei Ying is going to call it that until someone shows him any other use for it. If Wei Ying ever returns to Earth, he's going to reverse-engineer this thing and sell it for a fortune to kinksters. There are incremental levers.)
Lan Zhan is fully dressed, with the sleeves of his robes folded back out of the way. Wei Ying does not feel like this is fair, given he's completely naked and also currently being strapped into the sex sling.
"This is not sexy," grumbles Wei Ying, even though actually this is definitely doing something for him, this thing where he's open and exposed and Lan Zhan looks like he's just examining Wei Ying like a glitching piece of machinery, ready to be prodded back into working.
Lan Zhan adjusts it until Wei Ying is suspended above the floor, in a mostly upright position, and hooks his knees up until they're spread apart, and straps them into place. Wei Ying pulls at them because he always does, always has to know how much slack there is for him to take, how far he can pull. It's not very far. "This is a bit much, isn't it?" he asks.
"Safety first," says Lan Zhan. "If you move around too much, one of the eggs might burst."
Wei Ying shivers with how exposed he is. He feels more than sees a trail of slick slide out of his ass onto the floor. "You're just gonna keep me open for you, huh?"
"It is the optimal position for egg insertion," says Lan Zhan, which is boring. "But if it pleases you, I will make a note of it for later." Oh, that's better.
Lan Zhan tilts him backwards so that he's leaning backwards slightly, and it feels terrifying for a moment – his centre of gravity is off-centre and it feels like he might fall back at any moment, but when he tries to reorientate, he's strapped securely into place, barely able to wiggle more than an inch in any direction. He wiggles his toes experimentally. All good in the blood circulation department too.
Lan Zhan lines up his first cock (finally!) against Wei Ying's asshole after doing like a hundred checks on all the straps holding Wei Ying in place, and Wei Ying lets out a low groan when he finally sinks it in. He always thinks two fingers is enough prep, and he forgets every time that it is not. Before getting it inside him, Wei Ying has only ever seen cocks this big in porn. It could probably be considered a feasible human size, but only just.
He doesn't even push all the way in to Wei Ying, the fucker, because he knows that Wei Ying's delicate human body needs him to fuck him thoroughly for a minute or so first before he's ready to take the rest of it. It's simultaneously so disparaging and so thoughtful that it makes Wei Ying see red, every time.
"More, Lan Zhan, more," he begs instead. Normally, he'd sink down on Lan Zhan's cock himself until his muscles spasm around it, but now he can't even buck his hips more than an inch to encourage Lan Zhan in.
Lan Zhan holds him still easily, one large hand splayed across Wei Ying's ribs, a heavy weight that threatens to force the air out of his lungs at any moment when Lan Zhan fucks in to him, getting deeper each time.
There's a weird twinge inside him, somewhere, when Lan Zhan gets all the way in, and Wei Ying gasps, clenching muscles inside him he's never used before. "Is that –"
Lan Zhan does it again, and Wei Ying can swear that he can feel Lan Zhan breaching the entrance of the newly implanted womb inside him. He gasps; it feels like an elastic band pulled taut that Lan Zhan is pushing against, a twang of pain and pleasure at once. He doesn't know how to relax the muscle there yet, but it's like the more pain or pleasure he's in, the more slick his body is producing. He can feel it splatter across his thighs when Lan Zhan fucks in, can feel it dribbling down the crack of his ass when he pulls out, can hear the squelching as Lan Zhan sets a rhythm.
He tries, he really does, to look down at it, even though he can't see much from this angle, but it's like every wave of pleasure has him rolling his eyes up into his head.
Before, he'd liked the pain, the stretch, of Lan Zhan pushing in too far, feeling too full, but now it's like his body knows how to accommodate Lan Zhan – fuck, it's like his body has been remade for Lan Zhan. Wei Ying is sort of dizzy with how turned on he is.
The first sign that he's not imagining it is when Lan Zhan smacks his asscheek – he likes the look of the red handprint against Wei Ying's skin – and Wei Ying feels it but it doesn't hurt. He still jerks, still arches his back at it, but it's like his pain receptors have been rewired to pleasure.
"The stuff," he gasps. Shit, he doesn't know what it's called. "The – wet stuff. The slick. Does it – is it just lube?"
Lan Zhan slows down for long enough that Wei Ying can look at him, and he looks concerned now. Oh no, that's not good. Wei Ying didn't mean to worry him.
"It promotes pleasurable sensations," says Lan Zhan, and the voice in Wei Ying's ear sounds like it's reading out of a textbook.
Oh fuck. He remembers reading about that in the documentation of what hormones this gland would put out, but he didn't realise it was some prudish science-speak for: "It's an aphrodisiac?"
"Is it not working?" asks Lan Zhan. He starts pulling out and Wei Ying wriggles, forgetting that he can't move anything below his chest at the moment.
"It is! It's working, I – there's nothing wrong, Lan Zhan, come back, come back."
Lan Zhan sinks obediently straight back into him with a wet schlip and Wei Ying groans. "Unnng, oh God, that's better. I just – wasn't expecting it, that's all."
It takes him a moment of convincing, but Wei Ying wheedles Lan Zhan back into fucking him fast and hard, and Wei Ying has never been so glad that there's fifteen different straps holding him together because otherwise he would just be a puddle right now. He's caught somewhere between sensitive from two months of thinking desperately about getting fucked, trying to get Lan Zhan to hit his prostate, and the heightened sensitivity from the aphrodisiac.
He's close, he can feel himself teetering on the edge – so when Lan Zhan pulls out, Wei Ying's eyes snap open as he cries out. "Lan Zhan, noooo."
Lan Zhan gently pinches him in the soft belly area, which is just mean, wow. "Wei Ying," he says seriously. "I cannot fit the eggs in and fuck you at the same time."
Oh fuck, the eggs. Wei Ying had almost forgotten about them, lost in the pleasure of finally getting dicked for the first time in months. Seriously, it's not like they haven't still been having sex all the way through, but there's something about getting rawed in the ass by a big strong alien that does it for Wei Ying like nothing else.
"You could have let me come first," he sulks, as his breathing evens out.
Lan Zhan runs the tip of a finger around the rim off his asshole, puffy and sensitive, pulling at it slightly as if to show how open Wei Ying is. "You get tight after you come. Sub-optimal."
Wei Ying flushes. That wasn't even dirty talk, it's just true, but Lan Zhan says it so matter-of-factly, as if he's the expert on Wei Ying's body. He forgets that Lan Zhan is a scientist too.
Lan Zhan lines up the first egg so that it presses gently against the rim of Wei Ying's asshole. He expects it to feel special, like a sudden rush of affection or something, but mostly it just feels like there's something pressed against his ass. At least, it does until Lan Zhan presses it in further; it slips in easy due to how wet he is and Wei Ying gasps. It gets wider so quickly, wide enough that Wei Ying feels stretched a little too taut around it and then it just - slips in.
Oh shit. It's in. Wei Ying clenches his ass around it. Okay, it doesn't feel too bad, sort of like a flared butt plug except there's no sensible base by which he can quickly pull it back out again.
"It's in?"
"Not yet," says Lan Zhan, and uses two fingers to press it up further and Wei Ying gasps. Lan Zhan is wide, but he's not this wide, and Wei Ying has had wider things up his ass but not this far. Not all the way in. It feels like it's pushing him open, and when Lan Zhan's fingers are all the way in, he swaps out his hand for his cock, long enough to push it all the way inside. He feels it slide past the ring of muscle there, another stretch that has him groaning, and then it pops in and he can't feel it anymore. Well, he can, because there is an egg inside of him, but in that strange way where it doesn't hurt, he has no nerve endings there, it's just that he can tell it's there from the weight.
He can't see it, but he thinks he can guess roughly where it is inside his body.
"That wasn't so bad," says Wei Ying. He wiggles his toes. "Also, less sexy than I was expecting?"
"Sexy?" asks Lan Zhan. His nose wrinkles upwards, which is sort of the Lan version of a frown. Usually, Wei Ying finds it very cute.
"Yeah. I'm not trying to be disparaging or anything, I do know the importance of this for you. But I mean, I'm literally dripping out of my ass, I'm sure we can make it sexy."
"Hm," says Lan Zhan consideringly, except it's actually a frequency that vibrates Wei Ying's eardrum at just the right wavelength to make him shiver for a moment. Which is probably why he misses the exact moment Lan Zhan kneels down onto the floor until his mouth closes over Wei Ying's dick, and he gasps. Okay, that is significantly more sexy.
It also means he can't see past the top of Lan Zhan's head, so now he gasps when the soft curve of the next egg settles against his ass, two of Lan Zhan's fingers hooking his ass open so that he can slide it in. He feels himself widen up and groans as Lan Zhan sucks down, his tongue rough and coarse against the underside of Wei Ying's cock. He slides the egg in, and pulls off in one movement.
"Yeah," says Wei Ying breathlessly. "Yeah, that's... that's good." He looks down at his stomach. Two down and he can't really tell at all. "Smooth going so far."
"Mark your words," says Lan Zhan. He flexes his fingers, which makes the muscles in his forearm flex.
Wei Ying definitely wants to take it back somewhere around the fourth or fifth egg. See, he does have some basis for comparison. Back on Earth, he'd owned some anal beads, and a tenga egg. He figured it would be like that. And it is, except that every bead is about four times the size, and also pushed in much, much higher than anal beads ever go, and also Lan Zhan has no intention of ripping them back out of his ass again.
He feels like his insides are comfortably full after five eggs. Except Lan Zhan is already sliding the sixth in. Wei Ying is being assaulted on too many sides - Lan Zhan's fucking mouth, for one, distracting him, teasing him, his lips a tight, wet seal around the base of Wei Ying's cock, the velvet smoothness of the inside of his cheek pressing in on him, and then Lan Zhan's second set of teeth, working carefully around the head. The underside of his cock is sensitive, a bit too sensitive, and Lan Zhan drags his second set of teeth over them repeatedly, keeping Wei Ying tense on just the right side of pain.
And then there's his ass and the way Lan Zhan keeps touching it, keeps stretching him open with two fingers pulling down; the pressure of the egg that stretches him and then the sweet relief when he gets his asshole around it, the pressure on his prostate as it pushes up, the drag of it all the way up. And finally, there's also the way the eggs feel inside him when they get there.
Every time a new egg is pushed in, it's like Wei Ying's body just makes room for it. He knows, logically, that he can't physically feel any of them, but he can see the uneven swell of his stomach, the itch of the skin across his belly and sides getting tauter with each consecutive egg. He ignores the telltale bump until it's no more a telltale bump, it's a full swelling of his stomach. He's never been distended like this before and he's aware that he's just staring at it glassily, mouth dropped open as he pants.
Every time Wei Ying thinks he's going to come, Lan Zhan eases his head off Wei Ying's cock and pulls his fingers out, leaving Wei Ying bereft and unable to chase his touch from where he's tied down.
Another egg slides past his prostate, a brief drag of the pleasure he's not allowed, and Wei Ying realises distantly that he's crying. His eyelashes are wet and sticking to his cheek when he blinks, and the top of Lan Zhan's head is blurry.
"Lan Zhan," he moans, the words chewy and full inside his mouth. "Lan Zhan, please." He doesn't even know what he's asking for, whether he wants Lan Zhan to stop or carry on or to fuck him or to hold him.
Wei Ying's asshole feels like an old rubber band, so stretched out that it doesn't close again. He can feel it twitching, spasming, every time he thinks Lan Zhan is going to touch him. When Lan Zhan takes his fingers out, he can feel the egg sliding back down, threatening to drop out of him - he tries to stop it by clenching, but he's too wet, too slick, too blown out for that to work.
Lan Zhan catches it before it can land on the floor and, without a moment of hesitation and in one movement stuffs it back inside Wei Ying's hole, pressing all the way up until it's all the way inside, his fist stretching him out. Wei Ying tries to buck him off, thrash, do anything to make him give Wei Ying more, but he can't because he still can't move, and he ends up screaming in frustration. It fades out of the back of his throat until he's shaking, too sensitive and overstimulated and desperate for release.
Wei Ying barely notices Lan Zhan smoothing the sweat-soaked tendrils of hair off his face until he presses his lips to Wei Ying's eyes and cheeks, kissing the tears away. Wei Ying presses into it as Lan Zhan cradles his face with his hands. His voice is a comforting hum against Wei Ying's jaw. "Wei Ying, you are doing so well."
"It's too much, Lan Zhan, I can't take any more," says Wei Ying, his voice a high-pitched whimper that he barely recognises. He leans into Lan Zhan's warmth like a flower seeking sun, nuzzles his face into his palm for more contact.
It seems like Lan Zhan gets what he wants, even if he'd too brain-addled to say it, as he pushes into Wei Ying's space and wraps his arms around him. Wei Ying sways, the sling still holding him up as the length of Lan Zhan's body presses against him and he does something that releases the upper half of Wei Ying's body. It feels for a single moment like he's falling – except Lan Zhan catches him and he's slumped against Lan Zhan's chest, and he shivers from all that skin contact.
He clings as Lan Zhan extricates the rest of him and carries him over to their bed. He fusses around Wei Ying, getting him settled. It feels weird now that he's on his back, bearing the weight of the eggs – Lan Zhan carries him all the time, except he's bloated and enormous now, and he folds one hand over the tender stretch of his stomach. It doesn't feel a part of him yet.
Lan Zhan rolls him over so that he's on his side, and Lan Zhan is draped across his back, a reassuring weight that's holding him down so he can't dissipate and fizzle away.
Moments pass like a trail of warm toffee before Wei Ying feels like a whole person again.
"I'm sorry I had to tap out," he says, lacing their fingers together. His voice is hoarse; perhaps he'd done more yelling than he quite remembers. He feels more himself now; he's not sure whether it was a slick or the bondage or what it was but he feels light-headed, like he's been air deprived and just given a rush of oxygen.
Lan Zhan bites his shoulder gently. "This is why we practice first."
Wei Ying already barely remembers what just happened, it all blurring together into one hot mess of pain and pleasure and too much and not enough. He's somewhere in that zone of totally fucked out but antsy and horny from not getting to come – he recognises it from his previous experiments of edging himself and playing with denial, but somehow it's so much better when there's a second person here to ground him, Lan Zhan's steady heartbeat a light thump in his back, warm breath against Wei Ying's neck, his legs tangling with Wei Ying's.
He shifts slightly to ease the pressure on his shoulder and Lan Zhan's cock slips between his ass cheeks – still slippery from his own slick. Wei Ying shivers as it rubs against his hole, still puffy and sensitive. He carefully rubs back, enough to make himself shiver with the delicious frisson of touch.
"Wei Ying," says Lan Zhan, a warning rumble against his ear. Wei Ying loves the way Lan Zhan tries to say his name, too many muscles and too much vibration in his throat to do it properly. It always sounds like Wei Ying accompanied with a caress.
Wei Ying swallows. "What if… I don't tap all the way out?" he asks.
Lan Zhan's kisses across the nape of his neck are gentle, with a hint of teeth scraping across his skin. His hand around Wei Ying's tightens, until it's at the edge of pain. "If you are not done with me, I am not done with you."
Wei Ying exhales. Hoo boy. Lan Zhan is… Lan Zhan is too much. Wei Ying could never have expected someone like Lan Zhan to appear in his life, they're so insanely compatible. Wei Ying likes him so much, but more importantly it's like he gets what makes Wei Ying tick. What pushes his buttons. What makes his cock twitch.
"Okay," he whispers.
The thing is, there's only so gentle Lan Zhan can get with a cock almost the size of Wei Ying's forearm. He slides in slowly and Wei Ying is instantly stretched and full again. But now, Lan Zhan moves in and out of Wei Ying slowly and he's held down but now it's from Lan Zhan's arm around his chest, the weight of his body pressing Wei Ying down, his breath a light tickle across the back of Wei Ying's neck.
Wei Ying smushes his face into the mattress with a chesty moan; there's something about being taken care of like this that makes everything feel extra good. His mind is going hazy with pleasure and he loves that Lan Zhan just wants him to lie there and revel in it.
The arousal fills him differently this time. Wei Ying can feel the orgasm crest in him instead of the teetering on the edge of a cliff like earlier, Lan Zhan pushing into him and making it swell each time before it breaks and rolls through his body. It lasts for ages, like overlapping waves roiling onto a beach; he thinks he's done, and then he feels Lan Zhan rub against the inside of him and there's still a few waves left.
It's like it bleeds out any remaining tension in his body, leaving him sated and loose-limbed. Lan Zhan eases himself out and Wei Ying hums as he swaps in his second cock.
Lan Zhan's second cock is probably more realistically considered a tentacle. It's tucked under the first cock, which deposits the egg, and is slightly longer but thinner. Also, much more flexible and capable of moving by itself. Ergo: tentacle.
The way Lan Zhan's physiology works is that he normally comes with stimulation to his second cock, which usually means that by the time he gets there, Wei Ying has already come once or twice from his first cock, and then he manages to coax out another round of orgasms from Wei Ying with the second one. It slides in easy after the thickness of Lan Zhan's cock and the stretching of the eggs, a different kind of sensation to being stuffed full, and he tips his head back with a sigh. It's like a nice soothing massage after three rounds in the ring.
Wei Ying can feel Lan Zhan's cock writhing inside him as Lan Zhan spreads his hands over the swell of Wei Ying's tummy, the first time he's done that since he stuffed Wei Ying full. The skin there is still sensitive, stretched thin. He presses down, enough that Wei Ying can feel the pressure of the eggs inside him.
"Beautiful," Lan Zhan murmurs in his ear. Wei Ying's interpreter doesn't quite catch it, but he's heard Lan Zhan say it enough times to know what it sounds like.
"Yeah?" asks Wei Ying, lazily canting his hips back into Lan Zhan rhythmically.
His cock – which he can't even see anymore past the jut of his stomach – is aching with the need to be touched. It jumps when Lan Zhan reaches down to palm it, slowly dragging his fingers up and down to the same timing as his cock, gently smearing the beads of precum off the tip of Wei Ying's cock.
"Yes." Lan Zhan's voice brooks no room for argument. He's like that – direct, never says anything he doesn't mean. It's still sort of a novelty for Wei Ying; he never really knows how to respond to that amount of sincerity. He pulls Lan Zhan's arm across his chest instead, and hugs it tight, and watches his face.
Lan Zhan doesn't have a super expressive face, but Wei Ying's spent a lot of time trying to work him out. He catalogues the way Lan Zhan's eyes blink slower than normal, the way his breathing – usually slower than Wei Ying's – speeds up, the way his mouth falls open enough that Wei Ying can just see the edge of a second set of teeth.
"Wei Ying," Lan Zhan says, and it feels like his body is a tuning fork that Lan Zhan has just struck. The way he says it, with a frisson around the edges, doesn't manage to sound quite human. "I'm going to come inside you."
Wei Ying clenches his ass, or tries to, but he's still relaxed from being fucked open when Lan Zhan starts to come inside him, just a burst of warmth. It goes up to the eggs first, a flood to fertilise them all, but he's not tight enough and Lan Zhan keeps coming, and keeps coming, and Wei Ying can soon enough feel it trickling back out of him.
"Lan Zhan, I can't," he manages, as Lan Zhan rolls him onto his back and slides a pillow under Wei Ying's hips and gravity pulls the liquid trickle back the other way, and Lan Zhan keeps coming, and he can feel it filling him up, seeping into the gaps between the eggs, and he keeps coming, and Wei Ying is so full, too full, and Lan Zhan keeps coming.
Wei Ying is moaning - or more actually, letting out one long continuous moan from the back of his throat as his mouth drops open. He can feel it when he starts to overflow, when Lan Zhan fills him up to the point where he's dripping again. It dribbles out of his hole and down the crack of his ass in a long ticklish line. He's spurting uncontrollably by the time Lan Zhan finishes and his own orgasm catches him almost unaware as he spills suddenly into Lan Zhan's hands, a squirt of liquid escaping his ass as his ass clenches.
"Whu–" He manages to say as his eyes rolls into the back of his head.
It's possibly delirium, but Wei Ying feels like he's floating. Lan Zhan is possibly also floating, because he can see his face above him, and he tries to reach out to pat it. It is a very nice face. He misses, because his vision is not quite focussing, instead brushing the edge of Lan Zhan's chin with his palm. Lan Zhan whuzzes at him. He likes it when Lan Zhan whuzzes at him, it's a very low-grade static sort of noise and tends to be like fuzz against Wei Ying's skin. It also usually means that Lan Zhan is putting up with him being silly.
It takes a few more moments of rubbing his palm against Lan Zhan's chin - he doesn't get facial hair there, so there's no stubble against his hand - to realise that Lan Zhan is also talking at him.
"Wait," says Wei Ying. "Sorry, I – I missed all of that." He's not really sure if he whited out or anything but it feels like he has no bones in his lower body right now.
"Are you all right?" asks Lan Zhan, his mouth moving under Wei Ying's fingers.
"Yeah," says Wei Ying. "Yeah, I just didn't realise you'd come that much."
"To optimise the chances of fertilisation," says Lan Zhan casually, like he didn't just pump Wei Ying so full of come that he spilled over. "When we do this for real, we should fertilise several times a day-cycle to make sure all the eggs are fertilised."
Wei Ying whimpers at the thought. His ass is still dripping. His body is trying to convince him that this is unbelievably hot and maybe he could consider going another round? Just a teensy one? Oh God, maybe he really is insatiable. He's suddenly exhausted, his body finally getting over the high of the aphrodisiac. All of his limbs feel like lead on the bed right now, even as his cock twitches feebly. He really wishes that the entirety of his body would communicate with each of the other parts and figure out collectively if he's meant to be horny or tired right now.
Lan Zhan disappears out of Wei Ying's vision for a moment, and then reappears. He shows Wei Ying the butt plug in his hands. Ah, that's such a good idea. Lan Zhan is so thoughtful. It slides in easily, small enough that it barely registers after everything Lan Zhan has put him through. He feels the gentle brush of Lan Zhan's hands as he wipes Wei Ying down and then eases the pillow out from under his hips.
Wei Ying yawns, his mouth stretching so wide that his jaw clicks, and blinks sleepily at Lan Zhan as he putters around, mopping up their combined slick and come.
"Good work," says Lan Zhan, with all the seriousness of someone who is aware he lives with a pillow princess. Wei Ying smacks him feebly on the arm even as he feels the weight in his limbs reach his head, drawing him in to sleep. He just about feels Lan Zhan getting back into bed and lists towards him as his eyes close.
After
Waddling, Wei Ying decides, is very unattractive. Unfortunately, he seems to be the only one who thinks so, given the way Lan Zhan's eyes track him across the room like he's a particularly slow prey animal and he's just deciding when to pounce.
(He has pounced twice already, today. The waddling is perhaps not just because of the eggs.)
At least Wei Ying doesn't have to worry that Lan Zhan will stop thinking that he's eminently fuckable when he's stuffed full of eggs.
"I can see you," grouses Wei Ying, eyeing where Lan Zhan is skulking behind one of the tanks.
They're in one of the unoccupied living apartments, which has been converted into a nursery chamber. The tanks are for little swimming baby Lans; the problem the Lan are having with keeping their species alive is not just that they've been largely wiped out by another alien species, but that there are so many conditions to successfully reproduce for them. Then, even when that's successful, they are slow to grow to maturity.
It's lucky that certain members of the species can both produce eggs and fertilise them, but they still require a carrier – which is where Wei Ying fits in – and then the eggs must be kept inside the womb, which must be warm but not too wet.
Then, after four months, they will be ready to hatch. Wei Ying will lay them out of his shiny new womb, they'll go into a little tank full of suspension goo and then when they start to hatch a few days later, they become what look like enormous tadpoles. It's partly why Wei Ying's marine biology knowledge is so useful – there are more similarities to amphibian and aquatic reproduction than anything else.
They mature slowly, he's told. So even though there will be lots of them hatched, the Lan population will just be hundreds of tadpoles for a good couple of decades – helpful but also not in terms of contributing to the society and helping to preserve the culture.
There's dozens of tanks across the ship, although only a few are in use so far, each meticulously labelled with the date they were laid and the parent. None of them are Lan Zhan's, yet.
Wei Ying's responsibilities include checking on the babies, which are mostly from Lan Huan. If he doesn't think too hard about where the eggs came from, it feels a bit like joining another lab, being asked to help out on another research project.
More importantly, maintaining the pH level of the nutritious liquid mixture that the Lan tadpoles swim around in is not part of Lan Zhan's responsibilities, which means that he's only here because Wei Ying is here.
The fucker saunters in like he hasn't just been caught and gives Wei Ying his usual kiss. "Hello," he says, propping his chin on Wei Ying's shoulder and sliding his arms around Wei Ying's now not-insignificant waist line.
It still catches Wei Ying by surprise, even though he's not going to stay like this for long – this time, at least. The fabricated eggs are bio-degradable, and Wei Ying has the choice of letting them deflate and then they'll kind of slide out of him like the world's sloshiest period, or laying them out of him before they deflate like he would if they were real eggs. They're set up for that to happen tomorrow, because if it's going to be anything like getting them in, Wei Ying could do with the practice.
Passing out from coming too hard is a pretty feeble excuse for being unable to lay eggs
Wei Ying leans in to Lan Zhan reluctantly, into where Lan Zhan's stomach muscles are getting less defined as he grows the real batch of eggs inside him. "What are you even doing here? Don't you have something more important to do?"
Lan Zhan watches him as he taps data into his wristpad, and strokes Wei Ying's arm. (He is endlessly fascinated with Wei Ying's soft human skin and the faint hairs on it.)
Wei Ying still can't read the alien language very well, but he can at least get in the numbers without having to look them up. Lan Zhan shrugs, which is something Lans do with the corners of their mouths, rather than their shoulders. "It is important for me to know your methodology, in case you are ever unable to carry out your duties."
"You have medical technology so advanced that I'm going to live forever and I can't even call in a sick day anymore," says Wei Ying, frowning as he looks up at him. "It's pretty unlikely that I'm going to be 'unable to carry out my duties'."
Lan Zhan blinks at him, both sets of eyelids slowly closing and opening judgementally. Oh. Oh. Okay, that one is Wei Ying's bad. It had taken a while for Wei Ying to realise that Lan Zhan is actually really fucking funny, in a dry, deadpan sort of way. It's difficult, okay, sensing it through the language barrier. So Lan Zhan's subtle pick up lines are even harder to work out.
Wei Ying looks down at his half-completed data entry. Everything's fine. They're fine. The eggs are all fine. They will certainly still be fine if he leaves them for a few hours to satisfy his horny alien boyfriend and have his fake eggs fake-fertilised. It's not his fault that he didn't realise that once Lan Zhan's egg fertilisation cycle was triggered, he was going to be producing buckets of come and needed to expel it out of his body three times a day for the next week. And if he needed to anyway... well, it might as well be inside Wei Ying's ass.
Wei Ying closes the tank with an air of resignation. "Alright, go on."
There's a tiny fizzle of air against Wei Ying's ear as Lan Zhan laughs silently and scoops him up into his arms. Wei Ying's borrowed robes – the only thing that fit him right now – hike up against Lan Zhan's arm, exposing a pale expanse of thigh. Wei Ying hides his matching grin against Lan Zhan's shoulder as Lan Zhan bodily hauls him away.
"I was thinking," says Wei Ying as Lan Zhan walks – well, power walks – down the corridor. "Do you take constructive criticism?"
It's fortunate that Lan Zhan is also used to Wei Ying's brand of humour by now. "Never," he murmurs.
"Well, I was thinking that all this? This was a reasonable first attempt. But there are some things I think we could improve on for next time. Your eggs won't be fully grown for another month, right? We could get another practice round in. Refine our précis, tweak our methodology."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," says Wei Ying casually. "I think that was totally mediocre."
Lan Zhan stares at him, affronted; Wei Ying carries on goading him, smiling so wide that his mouth hurts. "We only got twelve practice eggs in, it would be a shame if we weren't going to be able to fit all of your real eggs inside me."
Lan Zhan's grip on his thigh tightens until his fingers dig little furrows into Wei Ying's leg. Wei Ying can feel his cock getting hard, bouncing off the round underside of his belly in time to Lan Zhan's steps. The power walk accelerates briskly into a jog.
When he finally speaks, his voice is so low Wei Ying feels it vibrate through his chestbone before he even hears it. "The fabricator is on the way to our rooms."
"Well," says Wei Ying, all of a sudden breathless even though Lan Zhan is the one doing any sort of physical exertion. "If you insist. For science."
