Work Text:
Scar’s pulse is beating through his body so hard he can feel it in his ears.
“He’s coming,” calls a voice in the hallway, or rather beyond the hung up scrap of cloth that separated this alcove from the rest of the wider heap that had once been called a building. Scar had tried to make this room look nicer, feel comfortable. He’d set up a bed that was more like a gurney than a safe place to rut, but this particular room was made too narrow for a normal bed since it also had a tub. And the tub was the part that mattered most.
Or at least that’s what Steb had signed to him before the spawning had blurred his mind again and rocked him so harshly that his hands no longer made comprehensible signs beyond more and harder and please.
He shivers to see those signs used now, despite Steb’s arms limply flopping over either side of the narrow bed, dripping with sweat and secretions. The Vastaya was too exhausted to even lift them.
Please. Please.
Scar could hardly blame him for his lack of stamina… this was their fifth attempt and he felt as desperate as the man laid out at his hip.
Well perhaps not as desperate.
But still, the scent of spawning pheromones is so thick that even as worried as he is, his cock is an aching hardness in his pants. His kind didn’t go through rutting like this. This was worse by far. When his body called to breed, he found a hole and fucked it and that was that.
But Steb… his body was so very different from the straightforward anatomy of Scars.
He watches Steb squirm again, and can feel rather than hear his voice. Scar covers his ears for the moment of it, just to be safe. Just to make sure he and his cock stay firmly secure, that he doesn’t get swept up in that siren call, not again.
Steb relaxes again and whines with mere breath, squirming under the blankets he’s wrapped in. Scar reaches down and caresses Stebs face, feeling how damp his skin is. Scales flutter and illuminate with pleasure across Steb’s cheeks, and the faint quirk of a smile has his chest aching to lean down and kiss him.
The appearance of needle sharp teeth beneath those lips check his desire.
“Not long now,” he murmurs, hoping it soothes him. Hoping Steb can even understand him right now. The Vastaya’s blue eyes flash and squeeze shut and he squirms and thrashes against his bindings. “I’m sorry,” Scar breathes. “It’s to keep you safe,” he promises.
It feels ridiculous talking to him. This isn’t his Steb anymore. This is something else wearing his face. This is…
No, he can’t think like that. He needs to keep his head. This is terrifying but it is still Steb. Deep… deep down.
The curtain scratches and scrapes with stiffness when it opens and Scar turns sharply, taking a step back from it as a figure ducks in, slow and swathed in dark blue.
“Doctor,” Scar says, hearing the desperation in his own voice. He hates it but it’s honest and he can’t hide honesty like that, not when he was down three days of sleep and rattled by this. Steb hadn’t warned him that it would be like this, which made Scar worried that this was new. Abnormal. Maybe Steb usually rutted into a hole too. Scar would have happily been a hole for him. It would have been different to their routine but he’d have done it.
He’d whispered things just as desperate at Steb’s bedside in the last days and Steb had, with his eyes, openly invited him to it, but Scar knew it wouldn’t help. He wouldn’t be dragged under again by whatever guile Steb had obtained for this particular cycle.
The man standing at the end of Steb’s bed, the man Scar had invited, was perhaps technically not a doctor, but that was what most called him down here in Zaun. A man who kept quietly to himself and had started to be the center of rumours speaking of miracle healing. Scar had it on good authority that he had the skill to purge Shimmer addictions with a single touch.
That kind of thing should be impossible.
He’d seen strong men fall to their knees to Shimmer and never get up again.
But lately his life seemed to be filled with impossible things. The man he frequented the bed of was a fucking Pilty Enforcer. And now his enforcer was tangled up in Vastaya magic that neither of them understood. Imagine having to rally up a group of allies to help you with this kind of emergency while also casually explaining that yes, his fishy face was familiar and yes, he was supposed to be their enemy.
Scar had gotten into worse shit for a cunt before but this was a little ridiculous, he knew it.
But he couldn’t just abandon him either. Not when he was like this. Not when his blue eyes shift warily from the Doctor at the end of his bed, to Scar. When his brows knit for just a moment in lucid worry. It breaks his fucking heart.
“S’gonna be okay,” Scar says, taking Steb’s elbow and gently squeezing, lifting his arm back onto the bed and tucking it in place. “He’s going to help you.”
“Am I?” asks the doctor in a mild, thoughtful voice.
“Yes you are,” Scar says, trying not to bare his teeth in warning. His ears flick forward though in challenge and he feels like an idiot. “You need to help him. Isn’t that what you do?”
“This is not precisely what I do.” The man replies in that same calm voice, speech accented in a deeper Zaun dialect that Scar knows. That should comfort him.
It doesn’t.
The man in front of him is strange looking, and when he lifts a long arm, flicking his fingers for Scar to step aside and away from the bed… his skin is not normal. It’s inhuman and it’s not Vastaya either. In the dim of this room it’s hard to tell exactly what it is, but the green glow of the firelight bugs that crawl around on the walls warn him that it isn’t natural.
But Scar is so desperate. And terrified that if he doesn’t find a way to satisfy the spawning, Steb will only grow worse.
The doctor steps forward, reaching up to carefully shift off the cloak wrapped over his head. His hair is half up in a tie, dark brown and grown long… bleached sickly at the ends where it curls over his gnarled chest.
Scar looks away to keep his stomach from churning.
“What are you called,” the doctor asks Steb.
The Vastaya on the bed opens his mouth, his sharp teeth flashing, and with a burst of energy, he pulls and squirms violently against the straps that bind him down onto the gurney. His throat bobs and his gills flutter, scales flashing sudden waves of a deep violet in mesmerizing patterns.
The violence of it makes the doctor pause.
“He’s called Steb.” Scar replies, voice a dry rasp of a thing.
“You may leave us,” the man says, silvery eyes still on Steb’s face.
“I won’t leave his side,” Scar grits out, hand wrapping around the frame of the bed in a bone crushing grip. The metal of it creaks, and that does make the doctor look up at Scar.
He considers him for a long time.. Before nodding. “You will sit then, and you will be quiet unless I address you. Or you will find no help from me.”
“I am his advocate,” Scar grits out.
“And I am his doctor,” the man says patiently, voice so gentle and lilting but with nearly no inflection despite the musical cadence of it. It was unnerving to Scar in a way he couldn’t describe. “That was your wish, was it not? I will not be a healer and a villain. Choose to trust, or I will leave you and him, to this fate.”
Scar dislikes this. He’d lived in Zaun his entire life and knows damn well that you can claim to be a healer while truly being a villain. He’d seen Shimmer and worse doled out under the false guise of helpfulness only to end up ruining every hand and mouth and nose it touched. He doesn’t trust this man either.
But what choice does he have?
Steb cries out again in his three toned voice and Scar slaps his hands over his ears.
The Doctor’s eyes widen and he listens, captivated by the sound of it… but he doesn’t draw closer. Doesn’t seem snared.
Scar grits his teeth and pulls out a wad of cotton, shoving some into the cavity of his ears before sitting petulantly on the edge of the tub. The water inside of it smells of salt and is cold just to be close to… Scar wouldn’t get in it even if Steb asked. Even if he knew the water was clean because he’d scrubbed the old thing down with his own two hands… the cold saltiness of the water was enough to turn his nose up.
“Just don’t fucking hurt him,” Scar curses, eyes on the ground, his elbows on his knees.
Why does this feel like giving up?
The doctor makes a soft hum, but agrees to nothing. His footsteps are quiet, and Scar watches them move across the filthy ground. Bare feet. Dark and wrong… his skin all swirled up as if he’d been burned once… or made of something other than skin. He hopes whatever his doctor had, Steb wouldn’t catch.
Scar looks up sharply at the sound of the straps being taken off. The clasps clink together and the rough fabric slides off the table onto the floor by the doctor’s feet. Steb groans, stretching weakly.
“What are you called?” The doctor asks again… and he is watching Steb’s hands this time, as the Vastaya weakly signs out the four letters of his name. He nods. “I am…” The pause is too long, and at last the doctor says, “you may call me Viktor.”
Steb wheezes in reply.
The doctor's footsteps are slow as he circles the gurney… lifting away straps and inspecting Steb with those silvercut eyes. Long fingers emerge from the cloak to work before retreating back under the dark blue of it, as if their spiderlike length and unsettling nature was better seen only briefly, then hidden.
“You are spawning,” the doctor says at last, coming to the end of the bed where he carefully unties the strap keeping Steb’s ankles together. “Even I can tell that… I do not have much experience with Vastaya and none of your shape, Steb.”
The way he says Steb’s name is inflected wrong… but Scar supposes maybe it’s the doctor’s thick accent. The way he spoke his consonants so firmly and the rest with a bedroom softness that set Scar’s hair standing on end. He doesn’t like the idea of hearing Steb’s name spoken like a lover from this man’s mouth. But then, when Steb was like this, even Scar spoke someone else's name when caught up in the allure. Even he had understood nothing of what was happening when the siren call had rang loud in his ears and truth had been stripped away into grim fantasy.
“I can do a check up on you,” the doctor continues. “And make sure that you are physically well, but I do not know what else I can provide.”
Steb watches Viktor with his glassy blue eyes, nearly as luminous as the firelights in this dim room. His mouth parts and he licks his lips with a tongue as green as his skin. His legs shift and fall open in a wet invitation. The slick sound of his thighs parting… the little crackle of eggs popping open under the pressure of his thighs falling down against them.
Scar can see it from here… the way they spill out from the elegant fins between his legs. The way his scales sparkle against sticky skin. The pile of briny eggs have the same dusky reddish brown shade as the tone of Steb’s eyelids. The same shade as the swollen lips of his cunt.
Scar’s mouth waters, remembering the salty taste of them, and he shivers down the desire to press his face against Steb’s warmth and lick him up into squirming pleasure. He grits his hands into such tight balls that his claws threaten to break skin.
The doctor, in all his quiet thoughtfulness, merely hums at the sight.
He walks slowly around the gurney and shifts the blanket that had been protecting some of Steb’s modesty, dropping it to the ground. His too-long fingers hover above the distended swollen shape of Steb’s stomach. Not overly large but tantalizing in Scar’s mind. He knows the pleasures of a stomach like that.
When the doctor presses his awful fingers down upon the bulge of it, the sound of eggs gushing out from between Steb’s thighs makes Scar groan. They squeeze out between the folds of Steb’s cunt in a sweet gush of sticky eggs and spawning, making the room fragrant with the smell of sex and ocean water. His cock throbs and he has to catch himself before he falls backward into the tub.
Viktor’s cold eyes flick up at the distraction and he narrows them, thin mouth pursed in displeasure.
Then he looks back at Steb and quietly intones, “you are producing and releasing eggs at what seems to be a high rate. How many days does this usually go on for?”
Steb cannot even lift his hand when he shifts his fingers to say two.
“And how long have you been in this state?”
He must not answer, because the doctor looks back at Scar, who flinches under the glare of him. “Nine,” he pants, knowing the state of himself is unreasonable for how much agony Steb must be in. That his aching cock and salivating mouth are not the correct response for a lover in trouble. But his instincts are strong and all of them are urging him to plunge his cock deep into Steb and fuck him into bliss.
“Nine days. None of the usual methods are working. We’ve tried everything.”
“What is everything?”
“Compresses, soaking in a tub and the ocean, rutting in every position imaginable,” he says, hoping the bluntness of that makes the doctor flinch, but it doesn’t. “Me, usually I can calm him down from it. But it isn’t working right anymore. He’s changed… when… when we fuck it’s normal, right? Me and him. But now it isn’t me and him anymore. It’s me and- “ Scar swallows. “It’s me and someone who it can’t possibly be, right?”
A heartbeat and Scar carries on since the doctor isn’t telling him to shut up. He’s full of nervous energy and stands up, sticking close to the tub but happy to be at least on his feet without reprimand.
“And we’ve had others too, volunteer to try and help Steb and it’s just the same. It isn’t with Steb when they’re in it. It’s someone else. Impossible people. And he’s never satisfied at the end. He’s… violent. He never used to be violent.”
It seems to be enough, because the doctor turns back to Steb, who is panting softly.
Between his legs, a pile of eggs shine in the firelights and Steb’s thrumming scales, swirling with the reflections of green and purple. Two kinds of bioluminescence reflected in the tiny pearls.
The doctor considers the eggs before walking up to Steb’s shoulder and leaning in closer. “Your teeth are very sharp. This is unusual for you?”
Steb nods and shows them.
Two rows of needles so sharp that he’s even caught his own lips and tongue on them, and drawn blood. Scar knows that his lover's breath smells of it, metal and wet.
“And the sounds you have been making, the ones that make your lover put cotton in his ears. These are not normal?”
Steb looks softly confused at that, and doesn’t reply.
“It is not something you are doing consciously then,” he decides. The doctor’s long fingers drum out a pattern on the metal gurney in the crimped place where Scar had damaged it as he considers what to do. “I can only think that whatever will satisfy the cycle has not yet been met,” he says at last. “But we do not know what this might be.”
Not his lover's cock, Scar thinks with wounded pride.
“To bed the Vastaya seems to inspire a hallucination. I would like a demonstration of this. But as his condition is… fragile, I will-” he seems to be looking for the phrase he wants before concluding, “take your word for it.” The doctor circles again and decides. “The best course of action will be to express all of the eggs, then try to put the body into a calm state. You have water there, yes? A soak afterward, a sedative. Perhaps to inspire a false satisfaction since you have been unable to provide such.”
Scar bares his teeth, ears flicking up in rebellious anger at the blatant insult.
The doctor merely hums with disinterest at the challenge.
“If you could get… a bucket, to put these in,” the doctor continues, gesturing to the sticky mess of eggs.
Scar glares at him with his lip curled before relenting, and walking to the entrance of the room, and pushing out the flap to fetch one. When Scar comes back, he is inspecting the place just above Steb’s cunt fins, where a thin seam of scales sit in a jagged line. “His cock doesn’t come out when he’s spawning,” Scar says gruffly.
“Indeed,” the doctor replies with a bored kind of interest that is betrayed by how closely he is leaning in to inspect the shape there.
“I already tried that, look,” Scar says, setting the bucket at the foot of the gurney and walking around to the opposite side of the doctor. This part of Steb is clean of spawning fluid, so he feels confident it won’t pull him under into lust. His thick fingers touch gently, the pads scraping down across the shape of the scales where a very faint bump lays just under Steb’s skin. He rubs down, then up again, then gently pries the scales apart… they barely flex, showing a peek of luminous slick flesh between the scales, all pink and bright green.
“He isn’t able to bring it out unless he’s in the right season,” Scar says, resisting the urge to lean down and press his tongue into the slit and encourage Steb’s slippery cock out. Instead he pulls his hands back and shoves them into his pants pockets, feeling the shape of his own cock throb against his stomach with wanting.
“It’s hidden,” the doctor says softly, thoughtfully. “Between the scales.”
“Uh huh,” Scar says, sitting back down on the edge of the tub. “If that’s the most interesting thing about him, you really haven’t seen a lot of Vastaya, have you?”
The doctor says nothing, just seems to quietly consider for a long, long moment. Then he finally moves and lifts up the bucket. “Will you catch the eggs?”
Scar shakes his head slowly. No fucking chance was he getting caught up in the allure again, not getting siren called into fucking someone he knew was dead. That was too fucking traumatizing to do once. He liked Steb, worried like hell for him, but there was no shot he’d do it a second time.
No shot he’d fuck the man he was currently with while seeing the woman he’d once been with.
The doctor hums before setting the bucket between Steb’s legs… then starting to take his dark cloak off. It wrapped around him like a scarf, and a robe… and Scar watches with horrified fascination as he unwraps it fully to leave himself naked in the room. He sets it to the side, hanging on his staff which was propped up into the corner when he’d first entered.
The man is naked but also not. The horrible grotesque patterns of his feet and hands extended over the entire shape of his body, up his legs and across his smooth featureless hips. Up a narrow waist and a chest with nothing like nipples or hair. This man is inhuman, and invastayan too. He is nothing, he is… other.
He reaches up and unties his hair, only to tie it up again in a weak small tail. Pieces fall out nearly immediately around the man’s gaunt face, dark brown with little curls of shell blonde.
Scar is stunned by him. By the nature of him. Nothing between his legs… nothing to him. He is a wraith. He is a corpse.
The doctor shifts the bucket against his hip… angles it at the edge of the gurney, and moves his other hand to scoop up the eggs and sweep them down into the bucket. The sticky slick sound of it is sloppy and squelching. The cracking sweet pop of eggs breaking makes Scar’s mouth water again.
He wonders if this man will be immune to what he is touching. If the sticky sex of Steb could not affect a person with no cock and no cunt. If the doctors naturally asexual body would be the only thing possible to perform this particular task. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to help, Scar realizes. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t put cotton in his ears against Steb’s siren sounds.
The bucket is set back onto the ground. The bed between Steb’s legs shiny with slick and stained from broken spawn. The doctors hands are webby with slime, it spreads between his fingers in sticky strands. He does not wash them before moving to Steb’s stomach, and pressing down again upon the bulge of his green stomach. Steb groans and arches in pleasure at the release, and from between his legs, another gush of milky brine and hundreds of little gleaming eggs. Steb’s cunt fins flap weakly, exhausted but singing from the pleasure of it. The doctor assesses the number of eggs, and presses down again on Steb’s stomach and another gush comes. Steb moans, sweet and clear in his tritoned song. One hand weakly signs out yes, more.
The doctor presses again, and there are so many eggs now that they spill onto the floor in a sticky stream of discharge that carries eggs with it. It spreads on the ground.
“You are producing quite a lot,” the doctor says, and Scar notices the way his voice is breathier. A warning flashes in his gut, but this man didn’t have any equipment. He couldn’t be lured.
The doctor hums and shifts, pressing Steb’s thighs open a little more, and his mouth falls open to see all of the eggs… the way they are piled up around his cunt so high that his fingers have to push eggs aside to see it properly. They stick and cling to his dark skin and Viktor pauses at that, his mouth parted… as he inspects the eggs clinging to his fingers.
Steb moans.
Viktor inhales and shakes his head, trying to shake himself out and away from the allure, Scar knows, and he flicks the eggs from his hand.
“Right,” he says, more serious now, shoulders rolling back. “Steb,” the doctor continues, “I am going to adjust your position a little to make this easier.”
He moves and bends down, looking under the gurney, then lowering it by several inches so that it sits at his hip level instead of up at his elbow.
Scar thinks that would make things harder but doesn’t say anything, fascinated to watch the doctor work. This would fix Steb. It had to. They’d see the eggs expelled and trick his body into thinking he was satisfied. Done.
The doctor hums and takes Steb’s knee, lifting it up and folding it against the man’s chest. Steb makes a soft lamenting sound, and more eggs spill out as he clenches.
Fill me, the Vastaya signs.
“Quite the opposite,” the doctor murmurs in reply. “Now try to relax.”
He presses Steb’s thigh against his chest with gentle pressure and the eggs ooze out. They spill in more places… and dribble down onto the doctor’s feet. Scar watches him shift and accidentally crush several between his toes.
“Relax,” Viktor murmurs, his own voice fragile.
Touch me, Steb signs.
The doctor seems to hesitate before looking between the man’s legs, and lifting one hand to hover above the fins there. The hesitation is clear… before he nudges them open to reveal the soft brown folds of Steb’s sopping wet cunt, half open with the spill of eggs. Viktor considers the sight before lifting one finger up to the apex where a pearl of a scale sits… and he tentatively rubs it.
Steb thrashes and moans loudly.
Scar watches with mute horror at the sight of it, his hands gripping his knees so they don’t grab his own cock.
More eggs spill out, hundreds of thousands of them all over the table and on the floor, so many they force open Steb’s lips as they come in little gushes.
“Breathe,” Viktor is saying carefully. Scar can hear the fracture in his tone. He can hear the way the doctor is not immune to this. He is being dragged down by the sexual fragrance of cunt and brine and eggs.
“Scoop them out,” Scar rasps. “With your fingers, they’re long enough… scoop them out for him.”
The doctor barely looks sidelong at him, the shine of his irises the precise colour of Steb’s pulsing pearl of a clit. He seems to hesitate before his gaze is drawn back to the spill of eggs and the wet slick opening they spill from.
He presses against Steb’s clit again and the Vastayas chest heaves with lust, his hips buck up with the little strength he has remaining and he whimpers.
“He’s running out of energy,” Scar says with a growl. “And I can’t touch him. Scoop them out, Doctor.”
Viktor’s jaw flexes.
He seems to stare at his own long fingers for several heartbeats before deciding.
Viktor slides in a single long dark finger into the throbbing heat of the man spread out before him. Pressing past the eggs and the fluid and the parted fins… Steb pants softly.
Scar leans forwards to watch, green eyes wide with horrified fascination.
“It is full,” Viktor rasps out. “It is full of eggs.”
“Yeah,” Scar breathes, knowing the sensation. He can tell the man is reeling and he can’t blame him. The sensation of being swallowed up by a cunt full of eggs was not something a person could just experience without being absolutely shocked by it. Not even this man, who looked like he couldn’t be shocked by fucking anything. “Scoop ‘em out,” Scar whispers.
“Right,” Viktor responds. More eggs crackle and pop open under his feet, between his toes and Scar can see the man shiver in response. His hand shifts and he pulls out a single fingerful of dark eggs. It’s a pittance. But Scar doesn’t need to give him advice. This time Viktor presses two fingers up into Steb, and the Vastaya whines and pleads with a hand neither Scar nor Viktor are reading. The power of Steb’s intoxicating egg-filled cunt has them both hypnotized.
Two fingers worth of eggs come out from the effort and they dribble down freshly soaked onto the pile of others. Viktor goes in again, slow and agonizing, as if terrified of what he is doing and too fascinated to stop himself. The eggs come out in a crackling sloppy mess, and Viktor shudders.
“His stomach is distended again,” the doctor says in his quiet voice, though it is not quite calm anymore. It is rattled with something else, infected with uncertain emotion. He reaches up and presses down upon it… and around his inserted fingers, eggs spill out and cover his hand. Viktor pulls it back to look at the eggs clinging to him, coating him. Slick slides down his wrist in heavy sticky lines, moving between the textures in his skin.
Scar swallows down his words, wanting to lick those ugly fingers clean. His cock is so hard it’s painful, making him gasp.
“Steb are you okay?”
Fuck me, the man signs back weakly, his eyes squeezed shut, legs spread as wide as he can manage it.
“What did he say,” the doctor asks, his gaze seemingly fixated on the way eggs dribble from his fingers into his palm.
“To fuck him,” Scar whispers.
He wants to.
He doesn’t want to.
He doesn’t want to fuck Steb like this when it wouldn’t him he was fucking. When he’d see someone else the moment his hands got sticky with spawn.
“Ah,” breathes the doctor. And Scar realizes the man has lost it. That he’s gazing with far too much intensity at his hand, the eggs, the sweet brine of juices.
Scar watches him fracture. He watches the doctor consider his fingers as they seem to move on their own. They go down to the scales above Steb’s cunt again, tracing the hidden cock. The doctor seems to be in some kind of trance, he’s barely on his feet, swaying a little by Scar’s view of things.
The doctor’s free hand moves from Steb’s distended stomach to his own dark gnarled stomach. Scar sees spawn smear onto him… worse as his hand slides lower and Scar feels a guttural punch to his innards when the Doctor traces between his pelvic bones. Faintly, in the dim light, Scar can see the twisted shape of his skin. He can see the line there that the man traces… down, then up… then with two fingers, gently prying open.
Scar gasps out a choke of protest as the man seems to split there at the apex of his groin, and illumination spills from him… and then a slick, and heavy cock slides out wetly, limply, and it dribbles, spilling down the doctor’s legs and onto the ground where wetness’ mix. Eggs and precum.
Scar had thought the man had no sex.
And by the look on the Doctor’s face… he’d thought himself that way too.
The only miracles being performed here were apparently by Steb’s magical cunt, giving men with no cocks new flaccid drippy ones. Ones all dark and swirled.
It matches the rest of the doctor’s grim appearance… Except for the unusually shaped head which is not quite round but has small angles to it. At the base, where it had emerged, a glowing light. And Scar knew Steb’s was similar in the right season, that it glowed like that, a siren song to anyone to come and enjoy the fruits of a thorough ripe fucking.
Scar groans, both agonized and aroused. Not for the man’s new cock but the scent in the air. The way Steb tries to lift himself up to look. The way he seems to know. It riles him up, and Scar can practically see the last of his energy being used in that hungry look he has.
He flinches when Steb speaks, that tritoned voice… too high, too low, and a third tone so deep that Scar couldn’t hear it but he could feel it reverberating in his chest. Commanding. Incomprehensible.
The doctor looks hypnotized, standing there with his fingers still pressed around the opening of his cock fold, eyes locked on Steb. Scar watches the man’s cock flex, still flaccid but considering.
“No,” Scar rasps.
“Is this what you have wanted?” the doctor says, though it’s a distant thing.
Scar isn’t sure if he means that as a reply or if the doctor is so deep in the allure that he isn’t even talking to Scar anymore. Scar can’t see the illusion that he’s certain Steb is casting. Scar wouldn’t be able to see it, even if he buried himself in Steb’s cunt, there would be a different illusion made just for him to get lost in.
To go now and try to stop the doctor would mean walking through the wet floor of eggs, and grabbing him. But the doctor is covered in slick too. And one touch…
They’d both be stuck in this.
“Steb,” Scar rasps out. “Let him go.” I thought he’d be able to save you, Scar doesn’t say. I thought he’d know what to do.
Scar lifts his hands and pulls at his dark hair in agony. What had the doctor said was the cure to this? Expel all of the eggs and let Steb think that he was satisfied, then sedate him and put him in water to convince his body that it was well and truly over. But Scar didn’t have any sedatives.
Maybe the doctor had left his bag in the hall. Maybe it was in his dark cloak hung up on the wall… only a sea of spawn between Scar and that.
He looks up to a groan, sharp and terrified, and sees Steb sitting up on the edge of the gurney, his body supported by Viktor. Their faces are close, blood drips down the doctor’s mouth and Scar realizes with a stab that they’d kissed. He realizes it as they kiss again, and Steb’s siren groan echoes in the room. The satisfaction in it searing.
The doctor whispers something as they part but Steb doesn’t quite catch it. He is watching in horror and in fascination now, as Steb moves Viktor’s mouth to the side of his neck, and the man starts to lick at his shifting scales.
A squeeze and more eggs spill onto the floor.
Viktor has his hands tightly around Steb’s ribs, holding him steady as he tongues between his gills.
“Jayce, you taste of sweat,” he whispers at last, voice thick with wanting so fierce that Scar’s riotous cock throbs in sympathy.
A slick sound catches Scar’s attention and he looks down to see Steb scooping up a handful of his dark eggs. He cups them, then wraps his hand around the doctor’s wet cock, and he starts to stroke, squeezing hard enough that the eggs snap and crackle as they break, lubricating the cock more.
“Jayce,” Viktor groans out, a fractured sweet pleading.
Scar cannot even swear out his protests, sitting there on the edge of the tub locked in mute horror. The way Steb strokes slow and tired… the way he adds more eggs and presses them into the slit at the end of the Doctor’s cock to make the man squirm and finally moan.
The sound is a curse. The sound is beautiful.
Sweet and painful.
Steb sighs musically when he’s bitten under the jaw, a chiding bite. He strokes more obediently, pulling and stroking the dark, slender and long shape of Viktor’s cock. Compared to Scar’s, it is like an elegant wand, no girth and no flared head. It is all horrible grace. It was all texture, catching up eggs.
“I have wanted this,” Viktor is saying now, voice a ragged breath. “You never asked before.”
Steb replies in vibrations and Viktor sobs, pulling him into a fierce kiss. Blood spills down his chin and drips between Stebs thighs, onto his pale green wrist where it works the doctor’s cock up into a perfect hardness.
“Jayce.”
Scar has to look away, he tugs on his hair and puts his head between his knees as he hears rather than sees them lock up. The whine of the gurney, the squelch and crackling of eggs being broken under foot and ass. The slide of Steb being pulled to the very edge… and the wet sucking, sloshing sound of Viktor’s cock sliding into Steb’s full briny cunt. Eggs fall to the floor in wet clusters, shattering into a mess. The doctor makes a pleading whimper as he sheathes himself, and Steb meets it with musical satisfaction.
They start to move together and it is creaking and squeaky on the gurney. It’s sloppy and loud and clumsy. They have to adjust twice, and Scar hears Viktor’s whispered apology.
“I have never… this is my first… you are my first, Jayce.”
Scar thinks he’s going to be sick.
He looks up and eggs are oozing down Viktor’s dark legs. Steb has his head thrown back, gills flared out, mouth parted. His teeth are covered in blood and so is Viktor’s mouth and chin and throat.. Viktor is holding up almost all of Steb’s weight, rocking into him with stilted and uneven thrusts.
Viktor, Scar realizes, is crying.
He can’t fucking blame him. He’d cried too.
He’d cry again remembering it. Remembering that he’d gotten a chance to feel like it was real. Like he was with someone he loved deeply for one final time, even when it was impossible. Even when it was a dream, a falsehood. Steb’s magic was so strong that there was no way to see through the illusion once caught up in it.
Steb has a hand down between his legs, working the silver pearl of his clit. He rubs it greedily, clearly in a kind of bliss. More eggs spill, dark against the milky fluid whipped up by fucking. Most of them are broken, oozing. The floor is such a mess that Scar sees Viktor slip in it a little as he fights for traction, bare feet nearly covered by the sheer volume piled around him.
“My Jayce,” Viktor whimpers. “Always mine. Always.”
He watches the man come far too soon, shuddering an orgasm into Steb’s already full cunt.
Steb squirms with delight, arching from it, reaching to squeeze Viktor’s bare ass and keep him close. To keep himself plugged up and full of eggs and come and cock. His blue eyes flash with lust and he squirms.
Viktor shifts, laying Steb down and going with him up onto the gurney, laying atop him, pressing in deep and close and kissing up Steb’s chest.
Come again, Steb signs. Viktor nods, obedient, and starts to rock his hips, groaning. Steb tangles a finger into the curls of the man’s hair, brown and blonde and he tugs, soaking in the sweet moan of pleasure that Viktor makes. The siren says something, and Viktor smiles a little and rolls his eyes. All playfulness… and lust.
Love, Scar realizes. Whatever this is… it’s that too. With a man who isn't real. A man Scar doesn’t know.
Viktor rests his head on Steb’s striped chest and keeps fucking, panting softly at the effort. Steb shifts him so they are looking at one another and he pulls his hair again. Their eyes are locked, when Viktor stumbles into his second orgasm.
Scar cries out in frustration and agony, his own body begging him to lap up the eggs and come, to join in, to throw Viktor to the floor. To do anything but sit here and fucking watch it. To see it happening. To witness this…
From this angle, he sees it all to fucking clearly. The way Viktor’s long cock slips out, and Steb’s cunt fins flutter… and the oozing of come and eggs and spawning orgasm all spilling out onto the table. Sticky and scented like the sea and of sex. Scar feels like he’s being torn into pieces. He feels like he’s falling apart.
Steb’s clever fingers are there, coaxing Viktor back inside… and they start to fuck again. His fingers move up Viktor’s dark thighs and spread the shape of his ass… Wetly they rub against the pucker there, squelching softly in time with the way Viktor is fucking up into Steb.
A finger presses in and Scar cannot breathe to see it.
It fucks him with such dexterity that Scar covers his cock as if he were covering his eyes. Because he cannot have his cock witness this. He cannot have his cock consider even for a moment the possibility of this.
The other hand comes up, and Steb spills out its cupped delight of slimy eggs. They dribble between Viktor’s cheeks and across where his finger is fucking into his ass. Eggs break. He pulls out just to push some inside… and Scar hears Viktor’s fractured pleasure, hears him groan. Sees his ass lift up higher as more eggs are pressed inside.
This is going to kill me, Scar thinks. This is how I die. This is the last and most terrible thing I will ever do, and then I will be dead.
His body is stiff when he gets to his feet… and when his boots trudge through the mounds of eggs, they crackle loud in his cotton filled ears. Scar bends down and reaches for the level of the gurney and he lowers it a little more. He hates the way he looks at the doctor’s ass to make sure it’s at the right height before standing up straight… and unbuttoning his pants.
Steb presses in more eggs and another finger there… and it’s so slick and messy. It gapes when Viktor moans, stretched out with his languid pleasure.
Scar pulls out his cock but keeps his pants buckled and belted… keeps his shoes on.
He’ll go to hell for this.
His wide warm hand settles on the doctor’s delicate waist and he feels the man tense briefly, before angling his ass in an invitation.
Steb’s fingers pull away and crook in a perfect flick of invitation… and Scar hates the way he leans down to drag his fingers through the eggs and sperm to coat them. Hates the way he smears the mess of it over his own cock… and the way he thumbs Viktor’s wet asshole before pressing his pad against it.
His nails are too sharp to finger him properly.
But his cock is surely too large to fuck him virginal. He groans to lean down and rub the flat of his nose against his ass… and up to lick at it and press his tongue inside. His body is rocked by the flavour. Salty sour and earthy, the scent of sex and spawning, the flavour of fucking. He groans deep and greedy and presses his tongue deeper inside, chasing the little pearls of egg inside and licking them out to crush between his teeth. Scar growls, eyes closed as he presses his face helplessly into the man’s ass, and eats and licks and fucks him with his skillful tongue. His cock hangs dripping between his legs, teased by Steb’s little fluttering touches.
Viktor is sobbing he thinks, still fucking slowly into Steb, but sobbing at the sweet attention on his ass, gasping out Jayce’s name and whimpering so fucking sweetly that Scar wants to fuck him until that little sound was all he could make. He wants to fuck him to pieces until his serious face is shattered by pleasure and lust. Scar scoops up a handful of sin and fills his fucking mouth with it, swallowing down the eggs with a feral groan. He takes another mouthful and goes back to Viktor’s ass, spreading it and spitting them inside. Then plunging in his tongue and hunting around, licking up the pleasure of it.
“Fuck me Jayce,” Viktor sobs at last. “Please.” It shatters, it’s pleading, it’s full of so much need.
Scar shifts up and strokes himself off before pressing the wide heart shaped tip of his cock against the spread open and eager egg-filled hole of the man in front of him. He presses in his cock and Viktor cries out.
Steb huffs and Scar wonders if the man had come again from just this intrusion… before he leans in and slowly, slowly, presses in bit by bit.
Viktor sobs sweetly. Steb makes a calming sound in his siren voice and Viktor soothes.
“Jayce, Jayce, Jayce,” he is panting out.
Scar soothes a broad hand down the man’s back.
“Jayce, split me open,” Viktor breathes.
Scar presses in deeper, and they both groan out their pleasure for it.
Steb rocks his hips up in greed and Viktor starts to fuck him in slow obedience. His movement makes Scar move too and he huffs. He finds a rhythm and it’s agonizing. Viktor’s ass is smooth and tight, hot as a furnace and making his balls squeeze with eager fucking pleasure.
“I want to come in you right now,” he grits out.
Steb’s fingers are in his face a moment later. Mine.
The possessive power of the single word makes Scar’s cock throb. He wasn’t allowed to come in this man. All of the breeding in this room is for one person only.
“I’ll let you know when I’m close then,” he pants out softly, rocking up a little harder into Viktor to make the man whimper in pleasure.
As far as doctors visits go, this one is a particular kind of disaster.
The floor is impossibly slick and slippery and the table is no better. Viktor, the narrowest of the three of them, is in the middle both fucking and being deeply fucked and the man is lost in the magic so deeply that he’s moving between moans and kissing himself bloody against Steb’s mouth.
His ass is lush though and, taking a page from Steb, Scar reaches to tug his hair, and Viktor bends back beautifully, sitting up on his knees with his cock still buried in Steb’s pretty cunt. He presses his back against Scar’s chest and the man wraps his arms around Viktor, kissing his disgusting neck. Playing with where his nipples should be and drawing out a moan of pleasure, a breath of desire… before fucking into him harder and making the man whimper again. He is as pliant as any Scar had brought to bed… and his mouth waters at it. At all of this.
Whoever the fuck his Jayce is, they are sorely missing out.
Viktor’s cock slips out of Steb in the motion of things and sprays cum across the Vastaya’s chest. It’s not white and milky but luminous and blue now, as if the man had cum magic across Steb’s chest. The Vastaya squirms with pleasure, breathy moans humming through his body.
Look pretty, Scar signs to Steb before he grips Viktor a little tighter and starts to fuck him in earnest.
Viktor’s head falls back against his shoulder, eyes half closed and far, far away.
“Jayce,” he whispers pleadingly.
Steb is rubbing his hands through the luminous orgasm and licking it, then bringing it down to his cunt and spreading it around, arching with utter self satisfaction. He looks more energized than he has in days.
“Steb,” Scar rasps in warning.
The man looks at him and uses both hands to spread his cunt wide in invitation.
Scar leans Viktor forward to collapse over the Vastaya before pulling his cock free… and plunging it into Steb’s sweet, full cunt of eggs and orgasm. He nearly shouts, a garbled cry of pleasure in his throat as he presses in all the way to his balls, and shunts their hips together in a rough fuck.
Steb mewls and Viktor moans from the loss… and Scar comes hard seeing the eggs dribbling out from between the doctor’s abused hole.
He sees stars. He’s fucking breathless.
The gurney creaks in warning but doesn’t collapse under the weight of all three of them. Scar comes and comes, his cock pulsing so much that it oozes from around the base of him, leaking out of Steb. He sweeps up some and rubs the man’s clit in hazy self satisfaction, just to feel him flutter and squeeze hard around him. He catches his breath after a satisfied minute… before shifting off the gurney and pulling his cock out.
Steb oozes.
Come in sticky white, and in luminescent unnatural blue…
And the eggs that spill from him are changed somehow, not dull sable brown but infected with that same blue.. Swirling inside.
Scar groans and stumbles back against the wall. Post orgasm clarity puts this scene in sharp relief.
He elbows something and looks over to see the Doctor’s cane… and cloak. He touches it, his sticky fingers making a mess of the fabric and he gropes… finding several pockets sewn into the inside. There are vials inside and a single fancy fucking needle. Scar grabs it and looks at the vials, squinting to see the tiny neat writing on them. Bullshit, bullshit, useless- and ! Aha!
Fucking sedative.
He carefully presses the vial into the backside contraption of the needle and presses the plunger in a small test. It dribbles clear fluid from the end.
Scar stumbles forwards, shifts up Steb’s thigh and he plunges it into the meat of his ass in one smooth motion.
Steb silently whimpers… then sags.
Scar feels his heart squeeze with relief.
After a moment, the doctor groans and half sits up, looking dazed. Looking lost.
“Can you stand?” Scar grits out.
He nods slowly, nearly incomprehensibly, before getting to wobbly feet, holding onto the gurney for support. With him out of the way, Scar scoops Steb up into his arms, kissing his forehead. He turns and sets him into the full tub of cool salt water. It overflows from the displacement, but Scar doesn’t fucking care. He gets on his knees and helps Steb submerge. Touches his gills and makes sure they flutter to life, even though he is well and truly unconscious from the sedative.
The room floods by half an inch, soaking him. The little flood starts sweeping up the pearls of fertilized eggs that had dribbled out of Steb and the many other eggs piled on the floor. The water swirls them around a drain… and many get sucked down into it.
Scar looks back over his shoulder at Viktor who watches him with stunned and horrified shock.
Scar looks away, and hears the doctor wrap himself up in his cloak and the stuttering clatter of a cane being used as support as he leaves.
Scar tells himself he doesn’t care. Because he can see the tension in Steb already slipping away and he knows in his chest that it’s finally, finally over.