“You’re rather broody today.”
Kanaya jumps a good deal more than usual. She’s generally hard to surprise. Not that she’s always the picture of poise, though she does like to pretend it (it’s one of the many things she and Rose like to pretend together), but more that she usually is paying attention. This time, it seems Rose has caught her beloved wife off-guard.
Time to rub it in, of course.
“Jumpy, too? Gracious, at this rate you’ll turn into a kangaroo. What are you carrying in there,” she jokes faintly, settling onto the arm of the couch so that she may pet Kanaya’s coarse, wiry hair. Troll hair is almost like flexible quills, which make an interesting texture against the fingers. Rose loves it. It is, as Dave would say, big stim energy.
She watches Kanaya’s hair spring back into place, and cards her fingers through it again with a little hum.
Kanaya clears her throat. “Nothing,” she says, which is infinitely more suspicious than if she’d said literally anything else. Kanaya likes to cut right to the heart of a joke if she’s not feeling it. More often, however, she plays the straight man, which is very funny, because she is neither straight nor a man - not only in presentation and perception, but because she is an alien with a very different grasp on gender and sexuality to a human’s, making her being a “straight man” impossible, linguistically if not practically. She’s a very good Linton for Rose’s Heathcliff, esconced eternally on either side of whatever namby-pamby bullshit joke she’s come up with this time, because they ran it into the fucking ground.
So basically, she’s hiding something, and Rose is going to pull it out like a deep-set ingrown hair with a taproot right into muscle. Sure, it might be painful, but the satisfaction of it outweighs all.
“My darling,” she says, which means I know what’s up, “it seems something lingers at the back of your mind. Care to share the load?”
Kanaya closes her eyes, just a bit too tightly. Got her.
“It is… a troll thing,” she says at length, closing her fangs on the words like she's reluctant to let them escape her lips and is biting off the ends. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
Now she knows there’s something up - something Kanaya is keeping from her. Poor, poor Kanaya. Just can’t lie to her loving, beautiful wife. “On the contrary.” Rose slips off the arm of the couch to slide perfectly into her lap. A rose petal lands on the water, somewhere, and though it does not break the surface tension, Rose herself lands lighter. And more gracefully, of course. In a more dramatic fashion. If Rose has anything going for her, it’s her flair for the dramatic. “I would mark myself down as immensely worried. It’s of my utmost concern. I’m twitterpated, even.”
Kanaya sucks in a breath through her fangs. Her eyes close, serene. “Don’t use those words like you’re trying to turn me on,” she mumbles, as Rose slides a hand up the strong curve of her jaw. “It’s lovely, just, now is a bad time.”
It’s not often that it’s a bad time, Rose notes. Usually, if Kanaya is uninterested - not an uncommon occurrence; they are two very busy, very tired women, and not everyone has the libido of, say, Dirk Strider - she will just say so, like an adult. There are no games. There’s no fuss and rumple. She just says no, or, in her crabbier moods, tells Rose to keep her hands to her fucking self while Kanaya is sewing, and it works less than she’d like because god it’s so hot when Kanaya bares her fangs.
Anyway, usually it’s a pretty okay time, so obviously Rose is going to unravel this like some asshole toddler who found the loose thread in a tapestry.
“A bad time,” says Rose, and Kanaya stifles a groan. Yes, dear, that was the exact wrong thing to say. Rose can’t help but smile. “As in, I’m going to have one? How very 2015-onward Earth B of you, but no, I forecast that a good time is in order.”
Her fingers wiggle against Kanaya’s sides. If she wants this to stop, all she has to do is say so - but they both know it isn’t always that easy so this is just a gentle push, checking to make sure they’re on the same page here. Or, at least, the same book. (As cliche as it may be, Rose is hankering for some Karma Sutra.)
She blows a breath out, and makes her choice.
“And how do you know about this supposed “good time”,” Kanaya asks, because Kanaya’s a darling who plays such a good straight man.
“I see it,” Rose snickers, and they have themselves a lovely laugh before Rose sneaks in a kiss or eight.
They laugh, and kiss, and Rose’s hands wander. She moves from sitting sidesaddle to straddling Kanaya’s lap, leaning in close, too close, even, to where she can feel the slightest bit of heat rolling of Kanaya’s alien skin. She’s cooler than a human, sure, and cooler still now that she’s died (apparently, Rose wasn’t able to verify that for herself,) but she’s still got the body heat expected of a rather turned-on woman of her size and considerable stature.
Rose leans in a hand on her belly, and feels firmness.
Now, Kanaya has always had a firmness to her stomach. The healing after having a hole punched through her left a lot of scar tissue, and that’s past all the strange, alien biology, and, of course, chitin interwoven with cellulose in place of other materials. However, this firmness is akin to the firmness of muscle. The - shapes Rose feels under her hand, in Kanaya’s belly, are more akin to baseballs. The kinds a young lad would throw pretending to be Babe Ruth, but Kanaya is the true Babe.
“Hm,” says Rose, and then, “I would like an explanation for that.”
Kanaya closes her eyes.
“You were trying to avoid it.”
“I simply must know more.”
“So give me the details,” Rose pants, dragging Kanaya back to the bedroom at Mach 3. “You’ve developed an ovipositor?”
“No, I always had an ovipositor,” Kanaya says, ever more confused by the moment. Dear, sweet Kanaya. She doesn’t understand Rose’s intense interest in her biology, but she never has, and likely never will. Rose is okay with that. Dave knows enough to rip her apart if he really wanted to, and she doesn’t need Kanaya to have that ammo. Could you imagine? Kanaya slipping a barb in between compliments about her monstrous sexual preferences? Rose would have to run off into the woods and become a spinster. “All jades have the ability to produce eggs, it’s just - a little taboo to talk about.”
“So is it like, a heat cycle,” Rose asks, stripping off her shirt as casually as she can manage under the circumstances. “Or is it abiotic factors? Environmental, perhaps?”
“It is… semi-regular,” Kanaya admits, watching Rose with her hands on her hips. She looks puzzled. “The eggs are created of excess slurry in the generation chamber, behind the seedflap. They harden over time, but they never becomes brittle like mammalian ones. Rose, is this really sexy to you? I’d been trying to avoid explaining taboo bodily functions to my human wife.”
Rose blinks at her, once, twice.
“Kanaya, respectfully, my pants are already off.”
Kanaya at least leans into the kiss when Rose pulls her in, so it’s not like she’s against this, but Rose isn’t about to bare her soul to try and convince Kanaya that this is basically the hottest shit she’s ever seen. Baring skin works just as well, and no emotional vulnerability is necessary.
“We can’t go any farther,” says Kanaya, as Rose breaks the kiss to nibble her chin in a delightfully domestic way. Titty warm, heart warmer, and all that. “I am entirely unable to spill without implanting eggs.”
“Kanaya, light of my life, you have severely misunderstood the situation.”
Rose’s tricky fingers sneak their way under the waistband of Kanaya’s lacey underthings, a garment she’d sewn herself, to touch the emerging bulge.
“That is entirely the point.”
Kanaya’s pretty fingers curl into the mattress as the pliable surface of her bulge meets Rose’s fingers, betraying her eagerness. Rose’ll have green hands by the end of it, but, since falling for Kanaya, she’s gotten a much deeper appreciation for green. When not related to children’s dinosaur characters, lavender-purple ranges and a nice jade go very, very well together.
Not great when it stains lavender-purple range clothing, but nobody is perfect. Sometimes your wife jizzes literal bucketfuls and also has a clothing kink.
Rose has been through a lot of pants.
The bulge twirls through her fingers, interweaving like Kanaya is trying to create an extremely lewd tapestry, and Rose obliges her by pulling the weft. The weft is still Kanaya’s dick here, it’s important that you take that into account. It’s just an extended metaphor that requires knowledge of tapestry to understand. Just best to err on the safe side, you know.
Anyway, Rose strokes Kanaya’s fat jade bulge until she trills and chitters with the best of them. This is, of course, one of her favorite activities. It’s rare for blood color to show through a troll’s tough skin, except in cases of bruising, but sometimes, when she does it right or Kanaya’s really into it, Rose can see the green sheen on her cheeks. It’s worth an arm cramp or two.
“You will ruin my clothes,” Kanaya pants, in that put-upon way she shrugs on like a mink-fur mantle, pretending she isn’t having all the fun she definitely is.
“No,” Rose rebuts, “you will.”
Kanaya loves it when she says that.
As tempting as it is to just flip her wife’s skirt up and ride her that way, Rose is much more a fan of turnabout, so stripping her is the next step on the staircase to oviposition. It’s difficult to extract her hand from Kanaya’s bulge, for so many, varied reasons, so she just uses her other one. God gave women two hands so they could fingerblast their girlfriends and touch titty at the same time, you know.
Well, if not their gods, the troll’s gods, probably. She isn’t about to go ask.
The panties come off with the skirt, because Kanaya is obliging enough to lift her hips and help Rose strip her. That’s just about as nice as a girl can get. Her strong legs spread a little, not to show off, but to attempt to hook around Rose and pull her in, the mandibles of an antlion trap, but instead of being eaten, Rose would be doing the eating. She’s a little more interested in Kanaya’s bulge at the moment (that and her breathy little chirrups) so she just leans back a little, under the pretense of eyeing Kanaya up.
“Come on, I can’t get a faceful of hot, hot alien breast?” Rose asks, as seriously as possible. Kanaya takes on an equally serious demeanor and apologizes profusely, while her bulge leaks just as much. She takes off her shirt and Rose shuffles in closer to give each of her alien, not-for-milk breasts a welcoming peck.
“They see the light of night,” Rose says.
“Of course. They need sunlight to glow as beautifully as they do.”
“The world’s most beautiful lamps.”
Rose shifts to straddle Kanaya’s thighs, accidentally bumping their heads together, but they’re both adults and resolve never to acknowledge it at about the same time. Rose leans back, hand still tangled with Kanaya’s thick, green tentacle.
“There’s a little tube at the end here.”
“Yes. That’s the ovipositor.”
“And I’ve somehow never seen this before?”
“Well…” Kanaya rolls her shoulders, clearly a little embarrassed. Rose, who has decided never to acknowledge embarrassment, pretends to be unfamiliar with the feeling. “It has extended, somewhat.”
“Will I be… able to handle whatever is coming out of there?”
Kanaya bites her lip. It is adorable. “I honestly do not know.”
Rose nods, sagely.
“Well, this is what godtier’s for,” she says, and guides Kanaya’s bulge into herself.
It’s very familiar with the particular nooks and crannies of Rose’s thighs, so it only wastes a little time getting semi-translucent prematerial all over her legs before finding her folds. The feeling of it squirming into her, moving as if a tail was inside her instead of a perfectly normal trollian bulge, is both familiar and unfamiliar. Rose’s breaths get heavy for a moment. She’s used to it, but it never stops being exciting.
There’s no notable difference in the movements tonight. It’s a perfectly normal trollian bulge, after all. But apparently, perfectly normal trollian bulges of the jade variety are capable of laying eggs inside perfectly normal nooks, and Rose is as close to normal as any, honestly, so this should be no problem.
“Should I be scientific about this?” Rose asks, hands going to Kanaya’s shoulders. Slick glistens on Roses’s fingers, spread over Kanaya’s dark, chitinous skin in an eerie glimmer.
“I don’t see how that would help or hinder the situation,” Kanaya answers, like she isn’t bulge-deep in Rose’s pussy.
“Well, I fucking love your bulge, so jot that one down.”
They share a little chuckle right as Kanaya’s bulge finds a very sensitive spot. Rose jolts, and Kanaya huffs out a pleased breath that hisses between her fangs. They take a moment, silent, still, just to enjoy each other.
Kanaya’s bulge, as it often is, is the first to move, and despite being part of Kanaya it really does act a little like a separate entity. Were it not linguistically incorrect, Rose might almost call it prehensile. She will, however, make lots of jokes about thinking with your dick. Kanaya doesn’t have the societal background to understand them, usually, but Rose loves making them.
It curves inside her, doubling in on itself for a moment to kink and unkink itself without any suddenness. It’s slow and gradual, but without the buildup that it generally has. Sometimes, they aren’t hurried. And while Rose is very, very excited about what’s coming, she’s having a pretty good time balanced on Kanaya’s slick green bulge and is perfectly happy at this stage as well. Especially where it gets thicker and fuller at the bottom, stretching her so nicely, to the point where a base-level shift makes her toes curl.
Kanaya’s hair begins to stick to her neck. She doesn’t sweat, but Rose does, and the slick already on Rose’s hand made her neck just wet enough. It reminds Rose of that, but she can tell Kanaya’s exerting herself just by the way that her body flushes, how she leans back under her, digging her heels into the mattress and rolling her hips up. It’s not so much a fuck as it is a gradual, tantalizing grind.
Make no mistake, Rose is getting fucked well and hard. Just in the trollian fashion. A fashion that she has really, really come to enjoy.
The first real difference comes when Kanaya’s bulge extends to its full length and starts to undulate, like kelp. Rose is a little disappointed that her first thought is kelp, as it’s not particularly sexy, especially not Minecraft kelp, which was definitely her first association. But she can’t go with tentacle. It’s already a tentacle. Making an allegory to a literal exact thing is just a fucking description and it is not valid.
“Ooh, that’s new,” Rose breathes, fingers a little tighter on Kanaya’s shoulders. Were she human, the skin would be well and dimpled by the pressure, but she isn’t and it’s not. “Oh - ah - very good aim on that one, darling.”
“I do try, you know,” pants Kanaya, curling and uncurling her fingers. She looks like she’s glowing. Not literally, though she does tend to shimmer when they fuck, but there’s such a delight in her eyes she’s hard to look away from. Rose, who is fucking her, doesn’t have to look away from her for any reason, and is extremely happy about it.
She steals a kiss, not as deep and passionate as she’d have liked, and says, “I know.”
It occurs to Rose that Kanaya was likely tamping down her enthusiasm on purpose. She isn’t supposed to talk about this, but she did take well to the maternal jade role. This is just, another jade thing that she’s excited about and good at. Propagation of the species taken to the next level.
… Does Kanaya have a breeding kink?
Rose will think on it.
Something cool and sticky splurts inside her, in such volume it trickles out around Kanaya’s steadily undulating bulge. Rose shudders, her head tilting back a little, as she feels the fullness of it. It isn’t the same volume as when Kanaya uses her as a pail, one of their favorite dirty little kinks, but it’s still notable, and it still feels… very good.
“Tingles,” Rose says intelligently.
“It’s a muscle relaxant,” Kanaya automatically explains, even as Rose is getting her brains slowly and steadily fucked out by Kanaya’s curling, heavy bulge. “It’s meant to allow for expansion of the body to -”
“To harbor eggs,” Rose almost groans, even as her nerves light up with unfamiliar pleasure. Kanaya’s bulge doubles over again, pushing almost consciously out against her walls. Maybe she’d see it, if she looked down. She doesn’t.
She doesn’t have to to cum full of material and bulge.
The gasps and moans Rose lets escape her are, as she will later claim, entirely unlike her normal self. She spasms, clenching down with her affected muscles against Kanaya’s still-squirming bulge. Kanaya pants, breath hot and heavy.
God, Rose is in love.
“Not - not long,” Kanaya gasps, as Rose is coming down from her high. “It’s -”
“Oh god just put them in me,” Rose wheezes, as the side of Kanaya’s bulge hits her g-spot for about the sixth time in a row. It makes her twitch. Oversensitive. “I can’t stand it, Kanaya - fill me with eggs, I want them.”
It’s a strange feeling, the swell of Kanaya’s ovipositor inside her. It’s almost less dense, like it’s spreading in preparation. Rose would guess that’s what happens. When she looks down, she can see maybe the slightest movely in Kanaya’s abdomen, but that’s more than likely wishful thinking.
The egg presses against her without much other warning. Its side rounds out Kanaya’s bulge enough to press on Rose’s clit, and, for just a moment, she’s afraid it won’t fit, and it’s all been for nothing.
And then it does.
Rose shudders as the roundness of the egg breaches her, stretching her open as it’s pushed up, deeper inside her, nearly central to her body. She feels like it’ll come out of her mouth, it’s so deep inside her, and then it pops out of Kanaya’s ovipositor and they both moan at once.
The egg doesn’t squish, despite its lack of hard, birdlike shell - she can feel its strange texture against her insides, the way that it shifts to the most easily available spot. She clenches down around it, and it moves. Rose almost drools.
“Kanaya,” she whispers, breathless, and then another one presses against her opening, putting just the slightest bit of pressure on her clit. Her thighs tense of either side of Kanaya.
Kanaya hisses, that vampiric sound, as the next egg breaches Rose, joining its mate stuffed deep inside her. Rose’s toes curl.
She loses track of how many as they’re pumped into her, one by one, a steady, unyielding stream of eggs pushed deep inside her, where they were never meant to go. Her stomach distends with them, and she can feel her skin stretch, like she’d had a meal too big for her, times a thousand. And each egg fills up more of her, pressing against her insides, until Rose is cumming herself stupid on Kanaya’s bulge with each shift.
Her legs are shaking by the end of it, and she can feel the weight of the eggs laid inside her with every breath. She hunches, to take the pressure off her abdomen.
Alien chitters fill Rose’s ears as Kanaya regains her senses enough to pull Rose off her slackening bulge, pulling her into her chest. The eggs shift inside her with the movement, but they’re stuck fairly firmly, and none come out. She leaks cum and preparation-slurry onto her thighs from the motion. An arm braces under her back, and another rubs her stomach, soothing the stretch.
“... God, Kanaya,” Rose almost moans, full and breathless from the eggs she now carries. “It’s - exactly what I’d anticipated.”
“You’re crying,” Kanaya notes with some concern. Rose would compare that to something, but she’s a little distracted, so put a pin in that to compare later to the wing of a bird outstretched to provide shade or some shit. Right now, she just wants to breathe.
Every time they shift inside her, it makes her close to coming again. The feeling is nearly indescribable, or would be, were she not Rose Lalonde.
“I’m going to explode, but it’s going to feel really good,” she tells Kanaya, who just laughs at her. Bastard.
“Just rest, dear.” Kanaya smiles down at her. “We’ll get them out in a moment.”
Rose closes her eyes.
“... Do we have to?”