wet–hot–rough; [private]

[PMSingTiger]

4 months later...

Svara wasn't having a good day. Rather, Svara wasn't having a good few months. The first six weeks had been spent tearing into everything with a pulse. Usually that was his response to everything regardless, but lately it had been out of control. He had the mood swings of a mental case. Hell, he spent a few nights weeping like he'd lost a limb. All that time spent raging and finally it dawned on him what the problem was...
He was pregnant.
"God damn fucking beast from hell!" He growled for the hundredth time. It didn't help when his belly start to descend, leaving him constantly hungry and incapable of moving correctly. The one time something stuck its dick in him and he ended up being the breeding ground for chaos and PMS.
"When I get my hands on that stupid, mother fucking, GAH!" He raked his talons through his long blonde mess. The towns people stared at him with wide distraught eyes. Not that he was surprised. He was sure he looked...different. Standing next to some outside tables he'd abruptly turned it over in a rage. Svara was sure it wasn't so much the table turning that got people staring so much as the fact he looked like a 4 month pregnant prostitute with scars all over his bare flesh, and there was a lot of bare flesh. He refused to wear anything other than his small shorts and sports bra, they were woman's clothes, but he hadn't been raised to identify gender and hadn't even learn there was a difference until he'd come out of the forest half a decade ago.
"Mam, please calm down." The portly - or in Svara's opinion, fat fucking ugly human who needed to step away before he got his face ripped off - tried to calm him down. He growled deep in warning, about ready to tear into anything.

[mariah?!]

Silence permeated the atmosphere, thunderclouds darkening the skies. No big worries, though; it was all part of the plan. Well, at least it had been before he'd gotten frustrated and decided fuck the plan, he didn't need a plan. After all, what good was a plan if everything all went wrong in the end anyways? It was dark and cold in the treehouse, despite that the rays of remaining evening warmth were trickling through the cracks in the structure's walls.

There wasn't much room to manuever about in the building, something another creature might've complained about, but the wyvern was not another creature and he thought it was just perfect.

As the heavens started to weep, Israfel began to drift, nodding off with his head on his paws, the upset in his heart soothed by the lulling rain, a vast relief even if it was for only a moment.

[PMSingTiger]

ooc: dude...your post sucks hairy monkey balls...

Svara growled at the fat man, who was still trying to calm him down. Did none of the humans understand how infuriating it was for them to approaching him? Another table went flying as he tipped it over, chairs scattering across the ground. Town’s people started to gather, watching the crazed (woman?) throw shit let and right, in what looked like a hormonal rage.
“God damn lizard, planting shit in my womb!” Svara’s husky voice screeched. He would have made a banshee proud with the high pitch caterwauling.
“Mam, please calm down.” The fat man laid a large grubby paw across his scared arm, trying to halt any more destruction.
The moment the human grabbed him; he bared his teeth in a furious haze. “Take your hand off me.” He barked and jerked his arm back, the scar of his name tingling uncomfortably. There was nothing he despised more than being touched, well except for a fucking lizard thing that humped him out of a wonderful wet dream.
Bastard.
The man stepped back, surprised by the strength the woman exerted. “Mam, I don’t want to have to hurt you and your baby.” The storeowners voice was harder.
Svara paused and noticed the crowd that had gathered as he let out is rage on the patio furniture. Not that he gave a rat’s ass, but it did give him a little thrill, he loved to have all the attention. Looking at the stupid human who stood a good five inches taller than him, Svara sneered and then let a nasty smirk fall on his face.
“Mam? Hmmm?” With a quick jerk he pulled his shorts off twirling them around his index finger like the statement flag it was. Dick hanging in the wind the small crowd gasped while one old bitty dropped to the pavement. It was the storeowner’s expression that spurred Svara on. His pudgy face was contorted into a disgusted grimace and his hands were opening and closing into tense fists. It was obvious he had lost all his patience, but was also thrown off after seeing a dick where there shouldn’t be one. After all what kind of man was pregnant? Svara obviously was.
“Y-you’re a man!” He shouted while Svara just shrugged. “What the hell are you!”
This had lost all of its allure. Slipping his shorts back on he rubbed his bare swollen belly and started to push past the crowd. He still felt like breaking something, but at least he’d made a few stomach turn with that little display. Everyone moved out of his way, probably afraid he’d start throwing things at one of them, if they got to close. Really they were lucky it had been such a small event on his scale.
It didn’t solve any of his problems, and as he walked through the town and towards the forest he felt even more frustrated than when he had began. He was still pregnant with…well, with what was definitely the question. To make matters worse he really had no clue where to find the beast that had fucked him into oblivion, not that he’d thought that would be an issue four months ago.
Walking into the thick greenery he let his talons draw over the trees he pasted, leaving thick claw marks in each trunk. He wanted to claw into something, let something claw into him. He had not gained all his scars by self-mutilation, none except for the one of his name in his forearm.
A cramp formed in his belly and he had to stop to let the discomfort pass, truly he had never thought he could conceive, but maybe that should have been a concern since he did have some of the functioning parts of both sexes. Svara didn’t even notice when he let a gentle hand drift over his swollen abdomen, rubbing in slow soothing circles. There was nothing maternal about the man, he was brash, hard, and crazy and yet…he looked down to see that slow moving hand, staring at it with a puzzled frown.
That fucking beast better be close by, cause I’m going to rip into those scales when I get the chance.
He came to stand at the same spot where he had been four months ago. His only hope of tacking down that stupid beast was to start at square one. What other choice did he have?

[mariah?!]

ooc. baby girl, even i could post 737 words of shit and on my worst day, too. suck on that, yo (;

Presently, all that was currently visble of the wyvern was his tail, errant specks of moonlight reflecting off the scotum that adorned its considerable length, forked tip flicking lazily to and fro. The rest of him, meanwhile, lay inside the treehouse, lounging upon the treehouse floorboards. Hours had passed since he'd first begun what he'd initially meant to be a harmless little cat nap; the rain had let up sometime ago and the skies were dark now, their inky expanse dappled with gleaming stars.

Yellow-gold orbs shuttered against the pale rays of light slanting through the cracks in the walls––grating his horns idly across the wooden boards, he briefly contemplated returning to sleep and he might have, if a sudden twinge in his gut hadn't occured and persisted in chasing away all thoughts of slumber, bringing to mind instead a certain memory of a certain sexy blond, a real fiesty little fuck. Fucking shit. Israfel let out a guttural groan, shoving wearily to his feet and padding to the structure's exit, teetering briefly upon its precipice.

His wings unfurled then, the tattered gossamer stretching the limits of the portal's frame. The wyvern hissed, his agitation manifesting sharper, clearer; he snapped his tail and twisted his lithe body sideways, pulling himself up by the topmost shingles, clambering onto the rooftop to seek out more space. A cool drizzle of rain met him, as if summoned by his wakening. He snorted and extended his wings once more, giving a few experimental flaps before nosediving into the night, the cold air bubbling almost immediately beneath his wings and lifting him up, up, and away ..

[MpregBoyX]

Angcarch flew over the skies, trying to get out of the storm and rain. As a creature instinctly connected to fire, rain was like a major nuisance to him. But whilist flying over the land en route to his cavern home, he noticed a fleck of blonde down below him. A human? Out this far from the villages? This was worth his inspection.

The black form of the dragon glided down to the area of where he had saw the blonde hair. His landing gave off a presence, a weighty sound, but nothing like a clumbsy thud. Angcarch stared a few moments, using his falcon-like vision to observe the being for a moment or so. He was trying to determine if the foreign individual was trouble or not. No swords, daggers, archery, shields...not even a suit of armor nor a bowmen's garb of leather. That eliminated the possibility of a hunter or dragonslayer. He took pity on the being before approaching him.

"Come." He said simply, peering down to the creature, using his great wing to shield the blonde from the rain,"It is far too wet and cold for anyone, dragon or otherwise, to be without shelter. I insist you take refuge with me. My den is but a short flight east, in the mountains."

[PMSingTiger]

ooc: Poor Ang....Svara is just so terrible

He stood there, not sure where to go from there. Of course to make matters worse, the treacherous sky opened up and dumped its angel piss all over him. Really today was one of those days where he could see himself going into the town and ripping out throats, for no other reason than he needed an outlet. He thought about turning, his feathers and mane would make for better protection against the whether, but then again the cat in him really hated to be wet and that feeling was only multiplied when he was covered in fur.
His options were looking sparse. Either stand out in the cold rain and get drenched (in what little clothing he had on), or return back to his own den and forget about lizard thing and deal with the problem on his own. Although it hadn't really been about finding help, no he just wanted to beat the ever loving shit out of the ass who'd knocked him up. Oh, and maybe get some sex before he left, again. Not like he had to worry about getting pregnant.
Rubbing his baby bump, he started to pace back and forth. Ever since he'd started getting the hormonal outbursts he couldn't keep still. Sleep was evasive and he was starting to wonder if it was healthy to be awake for so long. Yet each time he tried to lay down, the slightest noise would wake him up. Not even sleeping in his true body made it any better. Maybe if he knew more about his kind, which he didn't know jack shit, he would be able to remedy his current situation.
The sound of wings made him look up, already bristling at the newcomer. He didn't like to be touched when he wasn't pregnant, but when he was he got the urge to kill. Catching sight of the creature he was surprised to see a dragon descend. Really the only reason he knew about them was because he'd saw some of the human paintings and heard their tales. It was big and very attractive, not so much as the other thing that had gotten him pregnant, but it was bigger, so that was a bonus for it's intimidation factor.
The beast approached, lifting a massive wing to shield Svara from the heavenly piss. Thank god. He thought, resisting the urge to wring out his sodden hair. Instead he watched the dragon with duel colored eyes, arms crossing over his chest in a defensive pose.
"Right and I should just fly off into the sunset on your scaly ass?" He retorted with his usual lack of grace. "As you can see," He gestured to his swollen abdomen, "I'm currently occupied, so I'll have to pass you up on the offer." He paused. "Although if you want to stand there until the piss stops you might convince me to not shred your eyes out." Smiling he began to twist his hair, the water soaking the ground and it was wrenched out of the long strands. Thankfully the few human clothes he had on were light, so they'd dry on their own.

[mariah?!]

"As you can see—" gesturing to his swollen abdomen "—I'm currently occupied, so I'll have to pass you up on the offer."

He paused. "Although if you want to stand there until the piss stops, you just might convince me not to shred your eyes out."

Īf Israfel had actually gave a shit, he might've demanded that the gryphon take back his last remark, for its words had been seeped in disrespect and no one disrespected a dragon. So why wasn't Israfel jumping to his old lover's defense? Oh, right. Because he didn't give a shit. Like he'd waste his precious excretion on that arrogant lizard. Tch. Besides, neither Svara nor Angcarch knew he was nearby—the rain of Ceyana always acted like an acid fog, permeating every inch of the land with a unnerving lack for days, sometimes weeks, depending on the severity of the occasion. Due to the scentless prey, most species of predators on the island had gone extinct as a result of starvation. Even the dragons had been at risk, once upon a time. If it hadn't been for the wyvernai, the tarragon might've succumbed altogether, but family was family, right?

The reason the wyvernai weren't affected by the island's quirk was thanks to their genetics, which had scrambled their sensory organization. Some wyvernai heard images, for instance, and others felt with their eyes. Many of them could identify creatures of prey by the body heat they gave off.

Even Israfel, who had been the runt of his litter, had been born blind in one eye and deaf on his entire left side. Rather than suffer from the traditional genetic glitch, he was another case entirely—for a short time, one part of his soul had belonged to the Otherside and although he'd grown out of the sickness, some of the symptoms still lingered.

Anyway, he stood in the shadows, watching the scene unfold with tenuous amusement. His unkempt talons had uprooted a small sapling and now, in an attempt to occupy himself, he gnawed on its branches, his tail sending ripples through the thick grasses around him as it swept carelessly to and fro. All the while, his eyes never left the gryphon and the tarragon—the gryphon, especially. Here Israfel had been, wondering what it had been up to in all the time they'd been apart from one another—worrying, sort of—and the devilish little minx had been out and about, getting itself knocked up. And quite fabulously, too, from the looks of it. The swell of Svara's abdomen was just positively .. delicious.

"Congrats to the father," he said finally, his voice the same rasping hiss from before. Unsurprising, really, considering the thing didn't get much use. The only person he ever spoke to was Angcarch and even then, they never really spoke, unless you counted the sounds they made while they were vigorously fucking as conversation. He let out a snort, abandoning his sapling in favor of Svara's ankle; darting out from amongst the shadows and bowling the blond-haired gryphon over with a frightening disregard for the child that he carried within his womb.

"Hello, amoureux," he greeted cheerily, grinning around his mouthful of bone and angles. "Missed me, didn't you?"

[MpregBoyX]

Angcarch growled simply, his pity quickly going to having none for the blonde. He retracted his wing, glaring at him. Such disrespect and for a dragon. A dragon that was a terror upon the villages of men. Yet, this small creature had decided to make the mistake of insulting a dragon. His throat turned hot orange, brimming with fire. But, his attention was changed when he heard the all too familiar voice of the wyvern. He forced his fire down, simply listening to Israfel talk and act.

With this, the obsidian-scaled firedrake simply watched with curiousity. His mouth even upturned into a bemused smirk as the wyvern bit into the blonde's ankle. The way how Isra spoke made him wonder, however. Was this the one in the wyvern's cave all of those months ago? And pregnant at that! A truly novel idea came into the dragon's mind, his toothy grin growing even wider as he stared at his old flame.

"If this is whom I think it is, Israfel." He chuckled gutterly,"Wouldn't it be delightful if the brats this poor creature is carrying are yours."

He could not believe his luck with this. This was the perfect punishment, in his mind, for the percieved betrayal the wyvern commited months ago. He stood there, very curious as to what events were to unfold. He was a glutton for the misfortune of others. As a hatchling, he was very sadistic, biting and scorching his nestmates.

[PMSingTiger]

Svara couldn't help but sneer at the large lizard. Truly, the thing was pompous, to think he would just jump on his back and go god knows where. Svara snorted, and unconsciously rubbed his swollen belly. After the sky was done pissing on him, he'd need to go find something to eat. Ever since getting pregnant - what a novelty that was - he'd been eating to the bottom of the metaphorical barrel, and then the damn barrel. It couldn't be helped though, and thankfully it didn't seem to be going to his ass yet, not that his ass wouldn't look good with a little more. He was vain after all.
The absolute contempt that registered on the dragons face almost made Svara fall into peels of laughter. Instead he bit his lip, snorting out little chuffs of air to relieve the humor. Did the beast think he was going to bow down to his almighty glory? His cock wasn't of any use, to big, he wasn't going to feed him, so that left umbrella, which he was currently doing. So what was there to praise? He wasn't going to glorify a house hold appliance.
The lizard opened his maw, a hot glow started to form, Svara didn't have to guess to know what that meant. His muscles bunched as his hand touched his stomach unconsciously (he really need to stop that). It wasn't the dragon that proved to be his adversary, no that would be the beast that plunged out of the grass and grabbed his ankle, forcing him to the forest floor. He made sure to land on his back, taking the full blow to a guarded area. It also left his abdomen exposed.
An unholy hiss emitted from him and he bared his teeth at whatever had taken him to the ground. He'd blame it on the pregnancy for being so lax. He kept still, biding his time for an opening. It was the voice that made him look up and hiss again.
That stupid, sperm infested beast!
"Miss you! I'll rip your tail off and shove it up your ass youmotherfuckingcocksuckingscallythingnogoodfickingdumb....." His cursing went on and on. Svara couldn't seem to help the rant, after four months he wanted to spit the beasts blood. How was it fair? They'd both gotten a great fuck, but he'd walked away with...mutant gryphons? He was not happy in the slightest.
Did it get better?
No. The useless umbrella had to add his two cents. He was going to loose it and soon. With an undignified screeched he let his talons slice across the beasts maw to dislodge him. He couldn't help but feel a little relieved about finding the creature. After all it would be nice to know what the fuck was playing house in his womb.
"Poor creature! I just found out I can get pregnant, and on top of that it's by a...I don't know what the fuck this is," He gestured to isra, "but it better not make ugly spawn that rips my pussy on the way out." A loud huff escaped him. "You better tell me right now what this shit is," Svara pointed to his belly, "Or I'll do us both a favor and cut the damn things out."
Yeah, he was loosing it.

[mariah?!]

The wyvern held his ground on top of the gryphon, in spite of the blood that dribbled profusely from his wounds. Following Svara's pointing finger, he glanced down, though only for a moment. "Why, I do believe that is the swollen, bulbous cradle of a very pregnant man's very pregnant abdomen. Tell me, who's the unfortunate sire?"

For whatever reason, Israfel's rasping croon had transmorphed into a disdainful sneer, scaly lips betraying his quirky mood. "You've never looked tastier," he purred, dipping his snout between Svara's legs and daring to lick him through his clothes. It would seem that the wyvern had either forgotten Angcarch or was ignoring the dragon's presence altogether, his narrow cranium remaining between the V of the gryphon's legs, as his tongue darted out again and again to indulge in a deep, hungry taste.

[PMSingTiger]

Svara growled at the insufferable beast. Did it not hear him the first time? The question just proved to push Svara over the edge even more. "Fucking damn it! You're the sire, you dumb lizard!" He spat right before that perfect muzzle buried itself between his legs.
A huff of air escaped Svara as he leaned back, accepting the feeling of his tongue on his sore genitalia. Ever since he'd gotten pregnant he'd been so horney he could kill just to get off. But not matter how many times he jerked his cock to completion his pussy was still hot and swollen and wanting. It was a complete conundrum to him, since he'd only ever had sex with it once and now the thing seemed to want more traffic than a church on sunday.
A contented chuff rose from his lips as he lay back more, again, unconsciously rubbing his swollen belly. Wasn't this how he got into this predicament the last time? "I better be tasty as fuck, I'm carrying you brood after all!" He snapped in irritation before spreading his legs wider forgetting about the other dragon that was there. After all the umbrella's monster dick wouldn't do Svara any good, no wyvern attention was just fine for what he wanted.
Once he got off he was going to rip that beast a second asshole, but not till he got off of course.

[mariah?!]

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

.. spreading his legs wider ..

The gryphon spread his legs wider and Israfel wasted no time in accepting the unspoken invitation, though he had already taken more than enough to transcend the need to even have to ask. Should've, anyway. Pushing all pesky, intruding thoughts aside, he pushed harder, striving to take deeper licks of Svara through his clothing. Clothing. Ugh, what a pain in the ass –– and in this case, literally.

"Take them off," the wyvern hissed, the thrashing of his tail betraying his agitation as he pawed and bit, eventually growing frustrated enough with the damn thing that humans called pants, that he sat back on his haunches and glared, obviously none too happy about being made to wait.

● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ● ●

[PMSingTiger]

~ svara ~

The beast didn't even hear him. Of course not, he just continued his - wonderful - administrations. Growling, Svara bucked his hips into the wet tongue lapping at his shorts. Of all the times to be wearing clothes, it was when the one creature with a heavenly appendage was trying to lick his way into his womb. That thought made the gryphon shiver in pleasure, dick hardening more with each swipe.

Focus!

His inner voice shouted, trying to drag his conscious from the wonderful sensations. Sadly, he was a carnal being in nature, and pleasure always came before anything else. That was his decision, until the wyvern pulled away, frustration clear in his words. Svara just growled, shifting against his already hard and wet body. Damn thing has him forgetting what was so important, and ignoring him on top of it!
"No motherfucker! I want to know what the hell to expect with the little spawn growing inside of me!" He shot up to his feet, screeching like a harpy, the hormonal rage starting to rise again.

"I think there is a shit ton of them too, because I'm fucking huge! I look like I have goddamn cancer, whatthehellkindathingdidyouplantinmeIwillkillyouyougoduglysackofshitpainintheassfucking..." The rant began again. Like a wild animal he began to pace, blonde hair only adding to the look of crazy that was Svara.

[mariah?!]

■ Uttering a frustrated huff of his own, the wyvern stood and very deliberately aimed a swipe at the hermaphrodite's knees with his tail, with more than enough force to literally sweep him off his feet. "If you're not the slut I thought you were and there's more than a slim chance that they're mine, then the number of hatchlings won't exceed four. And even then, that'd be stretching it, since .. well, judging from your behavior that you've never been pregnant before." Israfel let out an amused snort, thwapping his offending tail loudly against the ground.

"You're what, four months along? Five more and you'll be shitting the things out your ass. That's pretty much it––whatever else, we can talk about when it happens. Now take off your clothes and spread your legs and let me eat you." The wyvern punctuated his last sentence with a menacing snarl, creeping closer to the gryphon with every gnarled syllable.

[PMSingTiger]

Svara huffed at the beasts bitchiness. Surely he didn't think he was going to get any "D" or "P" until he had some solid answers. Growling at the wyvern he say the tail coming for his feet and side stepped and gracefully as his, distracted, pregnant body was capable of. Which was barely capable. He felt his temper rising.
Teeth bared, revealing one chipped canine, he let out a warning growl. Part of it was instinctual due to the pregnancy, part of it was his horrible disposition towards life and anything that bothered him. "Sorry to ruin your mood, princess, but I'm the one that does the dicking from here on out, my pussy is a no go, it's fucking been weeping like a bitch since this whole bull shit started. WHEN YOU LAID YOUR FUCKING DEMON SPERM IN MY WOMB!" He screeched.
Although he had to admit, if Isra did fuck him again at least it might relieve the horrible ache in his body. Everything sexually related to his body was constantly pulsing for attention, and he'd whored around, but absolutely no one touched his hole(s)
He looked over at the beast. "Four...eggs! I'm going to piss bowling balls!" He took a deep breathe, calming his rage for a second. He could always kill the lizard later, currently he was still a necessity. "Ok, not a fucking problem. I'll just cut the things out, step on em, or whatever, and call it a day." Nodding to himself he felt this was the best answer and brought his talons up to his swollen abdomen.

[mariah?!]

It was then that the wyvern pounced, bowling the gryphon over roughly once more. This time, however, he carried out his request himself––taking the fabric of the shorts between his teeth and administering a crude yank. He was rewarded with the tearing of matieral .. and the unveiling of his mate's desire, the evidence that he couldn't hide no matter how much he wanted to.

Bracing both paws on the insides of the gryphon's thighs, keeping them firmly apart, Israfel first applied his mouth to Svara's cock and then to the wet throbbing between his legs, touching his tongue to the glistening nub of pink flesh and coaxing it between his jaws, suckling upon its hot peak, careful to keep his teeth out of the attentions. His claws, however, were another story. Talonlike and unretractable, there was no withdrawing them, and so when he kneaded the gryphon's thighs, their sharp points stabbed with every motion, though there wasn't enough pressure involved to draw blood.

Throughout the task, Israfel kept up a steady hum, vibrations rumbling low and sensual in his chest.

[PMSingTiger]

Svara didn't get the chance to cut the babes from his abdomen before he was yet again on his back. He heard the tail tale sound of clothes ripping and felt the cool air on his still aching genitalia to prove it. A gasp emitted from him when that hot tongue wrapped around his eager cock. A series of wanton noises escaped him as he bucked into the welcoming heat. The last few months had been nothing but a chase for what he was feeling right now, and damn it he was going to enjoy it.

That wet heat descended to his pussy, lapping at the wet sensitive flesh. It was only right that the wyvern should administer to his needs, since he was the one who had put him in such a state. Between the sucking going on and the talons digging into his thighs he could barely see straight, just canting his hips towards the feeling of relief.

"Fuck, Isra. Fucking so good, fucking hate you you stupid beast. Been fucking in pain for months...all your mother fucking fault." Svara swore in-between mewling pants, his own claws digging into the beasts hard flesh. It felt so good, his belly felt warmer and the tell tale signs of release were already racing down his spine. Growling replaced his moans as he bucked harder against the creatures mouth, his free hand captured his own dick and pumped, adding to the euphoria.

With a final drag of his thumb over the tip he came in long spurts, convulsing around the mouth between his legs. His back bowed as best it could with the extra weight around his belly, his one hand tightening it's sharp hold on the wyverns head.

"Fuck you, princess. It's all your damn fault." He finally growled.

[mariah?!]

[x] back at the nest.

"Why'd you leave me, minx?" the wyvern wanted to know.

For a long while, he debated whether or not to approach the gryphon who lay snug in his nest. Then he realized that the keyword here was his nest-–which meant he didn't have to debate shit, this was his territory. Ego swelling back to its normal outrageous proportions, Israfel wrapped himself around Svara, wings tucked against the ridges of his spine; his snout snuffing wetly along the curve of the gryphon's throat.

[PMSingTiger]

Svara sucked in air, his body calm for the first time in four months. It was nice feeling sated after feeling so turned on for so long. He opened his duel colored eyes to look up at the wyvern, the beasts question eliciting confusion from him. Why did he care why he left?

"You wanted to fuck, you got it. I figured that was it and I went on my merry way." He yawned and stretched as the warm heat of the beast curled around him. At first a tension built up in his body, but soon eased as the warmth seeped into his wet skin. He had never touched anyone or anything this way before and he couldn't say for sure if he liked it or now.

"Besides, princess, I'd never let anyone plow me before, didn't want to ruin my ego and stick around asking for more." The gryphon said with sarcasm. A hand went to his abdomen again, rubbing the taunt swollen flesh. "Oh and fucking tell me what the hell I'm going to birth or I'll rip your tail off and shove it up your ass and feed it through your nose life a piece of string." He growled baring his chipped canine up at the beast.

[mariah?!]

"I already told you," the wyvern returned evenly. And it was true; he had. But for the sake of keeping the gryphon in his nest, he decided to reiterate his earlier explanation. After all, he was nothing if not gracious, no?

"Wyvernai are oviparous, meaning we lay eggs. We're incapable of live birth. Females who haven't been pregnant before only lay about two to four eggs per clutch, while their second and third time around, should they seek one, can result in anywhere between a brood of six and twelve. Are gryphons not similiar in their patterns?"