Chapter Text
Jaumet is minding his own business and eating dinner in the mess hall when a tiny vial of golden liquid appears in his field of vision.
He blinks it into focus. Even then he doesn’t understand what he’s looking at, until he registers the hand that’s holding it and follows it up to the smiling face of one Taskill Sorley, Bastion of the kingdom and general menace. Abruptly it becomes very clear what the vial is. Jaumet reaches up to grab it, and Sorley snatches it back.
“Uh-uh,” he scolds, swinging his legs over the bench and taking a seat across from Jaumet. He leans forward, the vial clasped in his hands, his endless blond curls cascading down over his shoulders. He’s still smiling; there is a very knowing edge to it. “You have to do something for me first.”
Jaumet makes an exasperated noise, but he can’t deny the sudden thrill that flares to life in his belly. “What do you want, Sorley?” he says, and digs up another bite of venison stew.
“It’s good, I promise,” Sorley says, and then pauses. He smiles again, a bit of mischief to it this time. “Well, you’ll like it, anyway. I suppose that’s nearly the same thing.”
Jaumet’s eyes drift to the vial in Sorley’s hands. He recalls when he first found out what Sorley’s pollen could do, and how desperate he was to taste it. He remembers how it felt, when Sorley let him breathe it in, and then again some months later when Sorley pulled out one of the vials he had distilled and dabbed a couple drops on Jaumet’s tongue. Was that good? Likely not. But yes, he did like it.
“You gonna tell me what you’re scheming?” Jaumet says, as wry as he can manage. He doesn’t think it lands: he still hasn’t been able to drag his eyes from the vial in Sorley’s hands.
“Sure,” Sorley says. “You know the Crowned God?”
Jaumet can’t place the name at first, but then— “That Outsider, right?” he says. “The one who was trying to eat the whole kitchen.”
Sorley laughs. “That’s the one,” he says. “Have you noticed how big he’s getting?”
“Yeah,” Jaumet says dryly. “He was trying to eat the whole kitchen.”
But rather than laugh, Sorley just shakes his head. Now he’s smiling like he has a secret. “He’s not putting on weight,” he says. “He told me. He’s gravid.”
Jaumet furrows his brow, and then blinks at him. “You mean like—”
Sorley nods. “He’s full of eggs. He needs somewhere to lay them.”
Abruptly—powerfully—Jaumet cannot help but picture it: that massive reptilian body bursting with eggs, needing a place to deposit them, and Jaumet’s own body stretched and full—
He swallows hard. “What does that have to do with me?” he says.
“Jaumet…,” Sorley says, exasperated and amused. He dangles the vial in front of Jaumet’s face again, wiggling it enticingly. “Do you want it or not?” His smile turns dangerous then, and he adds, “I could give it to you like this, or I could just dose you with it when you’re not expecting it. What would you rather?”
Jaumet’s cock is so fucking hard. Still, he feels like he at least has to make a token protest. “What the hell, Sorley. This is fucking weird,” he says. “What’s in it for you?”
Sorley just tips his head winsomely, resting his cheek on his fist. He still hasn’t put the vial away. “I’m going to watch, of course,” he says. His tone makes Jaumet shiver. “Darling, I can’t wait to see you stuffed full of eggs.”
Jaumet’s cunt throbs.
He is so absolutely, utterly fucked.