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Aventurine couldn't suppress a giggle as Sunday slowly laid him down onto the bed, continuing to press gentle kisses to his cheeks. The romantic he was, the room had already been set with candles and rose petals dancing the floor. Aventurine idly questioned who would be the one to clean it all up, before his attention returned to the halovian lavishing him with kisses.
Sunday had never been good at directly stating what he wanted when the nature of the desire was sexual. Typically, he communicated it by smothering Aventurine with affection until the Avgin picked up on what he wanted and began to initiate. Him having carried Aventurine directly into the bedroom was the most forward thing he's ever done in their year and a half of marriage. Aventurine questioned if it was Sunday finally being more forward, or if there was an alternate reason for it. His question was quickly answered when Sunday began to speak, however.
“There's something I must tell you, love.” His voice was as gentle as the kisses he'd been placing on his lover. Aventurine quirked an eyebrow. He was well aware there were likely things about Sunday he didn't know— the inverse was also true —but something sexually? Sunday never had a very good grasp on what he needed sexually; he lacked the necessary experience to know. This meant it was usually Aventurine who discovered things about him, occasionally in the heat of the moment. A risky off-beat and experimental sexual comment would occasionally end up changing their routine if they both discovered something new Sunday found himself aroused by. So, for Sunday to have something to tell him? This was certainly new.
“You have...been talking about how you'd like to have children for some time now,” he spoke hesitantly. His wings fluttered, seemingly from embarrassment as his cheeks flushed. “This is something that I'm...able to provide. The method is...unconventional, however.”
Aventurine's eyes widened slightly. Sure he'd been talking about having kids in passing, but he didn't know Sunday had really been taking him seriously. He wasn't even sure if he was being serious. What did he mean by “unconventional”, however?
“What do you mean by unconventional?” Aventurine quirked an eyebrow. Sunday avoided his gaze, opting to look somewhere else. Sunday took a deep breath, as if steeling himself before he spoke.
“Halovians are loosely tied to birds, as you know. This presents itself in a variety of different ways, such as-”
Aventurine holds a hand up to Sunday's face, stopping him mid explanation. Sunday is doing that thing where he gets nervous and rambles about anything else to hopefully avoid the topic at hand, and while it's usually a cute habit Aventurine lets slide, he's far too curious to never hear what he means.
“Sunny, spare me the biology lesson? Just get to the point, please.” Sunday cringes at the comment. His effort to deflect has been thwarted.
“Halovians, much like birds, might I add, lay eggs.” Sunday's words are strained, as if speaking brought him physical agony.
For a minute, Sunday's statement completly missed Aventurine. Then, he laughs a little, much to Sunday's dismay. Upon seeing his lover's face fall, he only laughs harder. Before Sunday can completely sink away however, he puts a hand over his mouth, trying to quiet his laughter.
“You mean to tell me all those jokes I've been making about that are true?” Aventurine is beside himself. The triumph in being right prevents the reality of the situation from settling in. “Oh my Aeons, that's-”
“If you're offput by it, we don't have to continue.” Sunday's voice is strained, heavy with shame and frustration.
Aventurine quiets himself down. If he doesn't lock in now, Sunday is gonna get off of him completely. “Wait, wait,” he giggles, something between joy and satisfaction written on his face.
“Sunny, do you remember how nervous I was to tell you that little bit of my biology?” he asks. Sunday's look of dejection shifts into slight confusion. “Of course I remember.”
“You were so nervous to tell me about the difference in your genitalia; as if it would've mattered to me. You even put off being intimate because of it, which I can't imagine you doing now.” Sunday smiles warmly at the memory. Looking back on it, Aventurine can't help but cringe a little. Sunday had been so accepting about every part about him, including the unsavory aspects of his past. Why would he have been so offput by him having a pussy?
“Even though there was a biological difference in me that changed the way we had sex, you still accepted me, right? Why would I treat you any differently?” Watching the realization dawn on Sunday's face reminded Aventurine of part of why he loved being with the man so much — watching him realize he was simply loved. Not for any reason other than the fact he deserved it. To be loved just because you are who you are was a beautiful thing and Aventurine felt like such a wonderful person to be able to provide the experience to someone he cared for so deeply. It was an experience they'd both lacked, yet craved.
Sunday closed his eyes, heaving out a sigh and turning his head elsewhere, before leaning down and placing a kiss on Aventurine's lips. Aventurine smiled into it as he returned the favor, knowing he'd successfully convinced Sunday that everything was alright.
A gentle kiss on his lips melded into kitty licks along his neck, along with well-placed bites. Sunday was a biter— That was something Aventurine had learned the hard way. The man seemed particularly fond of biting, especially in places where Aventurine would have to go out of his way to cover it. After a few extra turtlenecks had eased their way into his wardrobe, Sunday made up the difference by leaving a bite mark on his face. After that, Aventurine came up with the excuse that there was a dog in his route home from work.
Aventurine started to lose himself once the attention focused on the gap in his chest left by his half heartedly buttoned pajama top. For as much as he exposed the area in his everyday, it remained to be particularly sensitive. A small huff escaped his lips that tapered off into a whine. This was, in fact, Sunday's art form. Among many things, carefully unraveling his lover until he was left shivering and wanting was something he relished in. There was so such thing as a “quick fuck” or a “hookup” to him. Each intimate action he took had to be delicate, deliberate, and loving all at once. Whenever it was Aventurine's turns to take the reigns, he was deadset on devouring Sunday whole. Sunday, however, preferred to pick him apart slowly. It was a perfect kind of torture.
“Sunny...” Aventurine was embarrassed by the sound of his own voice— high and needy. He was very aware of Sunday's little game; his desire to see Aventurine at his lowest. Every time he fell to the hands of it, because Sunday was cruelly patient. It didn't matter how many demands Aventurine made; Sunday loved taking his sweet time like his actions had no effect. Every time, you'd think it was the first (and would be their last) time in bed together.
Sunday's eyes flickered up with interest. He knew what Aventurine wanted, and Aventurine knew he knew. At the same time, this was another little game they played. Usually a composed man, Aventurine could be deceptively impatient. This comboed with the fact he hated giving Sunday what he wanted without a fight usually meant there was a power struggle between the two of them— one Aventurine almost never won.
Sunday's eyes spoke without any words. He implored Aventurine to speak his needs, as he always did. More than he loved hearing his voice, he loved hearing him fall apart in real time.
Aventurine's lips grew thin. He hated being dragged this low. Well, he didn't hate it, but he hated the overwhelming shame that came with it. Now more than ever, he went through life is with such bravado. He was a larger than life figure; he set himself up to be untouchable. So, why was he here, about to beg his lover? Like always. Annoying, he thought. This is annoying.
“Please...” His voice was soft. Shameful. As if to make his case more convincing, he placed a hand in Sunday's hair, digging his nails into his scalp the way he knew he liked. In return, Sunday hummed. It was not fully there, but it was a start. He could work with this.
“Please, what?” More is required for him to continue. At this point, his ministrations have completely stopped, save for a thumb rubbing the skin between his hip and stomach. Aventurine needs anything at this point; the lack of stimulation is killing him.
“Please...” He was louder, this time. More insistent. “Please touch me, just-”
“Touch you? Where?”
Sunday loved playing innocent for the love of the game. It just got Aventurine to divulge more information— made even better because they both knew Sunday knew what he wanted.
“Ugh—” Aventurine grumbled. Oh how he hated Sunday's little games. Yet, cheating in them was easy. It was easy because Sunday loved him just as much as he did— maybe even more —and Aventurine was confident in that fact. That made it easy to bypass whatever games Sunday played by making sure he simply couldn't maintain them.
Aventurine shuffled, removing his hands from their respective grips and placing them on the hem of his pants. Making sure to grip the boxers as well, he pulls down. Instantly, Sunday's gaze shifts. His eyes lach onto where Aventurine's hands are. Inch by inch, his pants are pulled lower, until his leaking cunt was exposed to the cold air.
Slowly, Sunday shifted upwards, removing himself from his spot near Aventurine's chest and instead opting to sit upright. His eyes raked the exposed figure; splayed out like an offering. He always seemed just as captivated as the first time he saw him— Aventurine was well aware of this behavior of his. No matter how many times he did something as basic as giving Sunday a kiss, you'd always think it was his first time doing so. Sunday still reacted the same as he did then. It seemed the routine they'd fallen into with each other didn't bore the Halovian at all, much to Aventurine's content.
Much to his content as well, it seemed his plan has worked. Sunday's patience had waned— just enough that Aventurine figured he could get what he wanted.
Sure enough, a slow, deliberate finger was dragged from the bottom of his folds to the top, causing him to shudder.
“Here?” Sunday asked. His voice was heavy with want. Aventurine tried his best to downplay the intensity of his desire now. He was winning, and he didn't want that to be taken from him. He just needed to not be so damn pathetic for 5 minutes. He absolutely refused to whine and beg again.
Sunday, however, seemed to have picked up on this idea, and was not buying it. He was going to get his lover to unravel one way or another, even if he had to be a little mean.
“Use your words, or I'm not doing anything.” He didn't even have to look at Aventurine. He could just feel the glare on his face. Aventurine hated when he said that, the man had complained about it many times, but being a little mean with him was also necessary. If you weren't a little mean with him, you'd ultimately end up either getting nowhere, or outright topped— that was something Sunday had learned the hard way.
“Just—” Aventurine's temper flared, before he cut himself off. He knew that getting aggressive would get him the opposite of what he wanted here. “Please just...touch my pussy. Please.” Aeons, did he hate how desperate he sounded for it.
Thankfully for him, this finally seemed to be enough for Sunday to finally continue. He pressed a finger against Aventurine's slick folds, before pushing in completely. It was nice, sure, but it still wasn't enough. Sunday knew that, but he always preferred to be gentle when prepping Aventurine. He didn't think he could handle ever hurting him.
Aventurine let out a sigh that tapered off into a whimper. Sunday's fingers were longer than his; perfect for reaching all the spots he couldn't when alone. Aventurine shifted around, trying to get his finger to hit in spots that felt good, but he knew Sunday was intentionally avoiding them.
Just before he could ask however, another was slipped in. Sunday gently scissored his fingers as he pressed against Aventurine's walls, causing the man to practically whine. Sunday shifted his fingers closer and closer and closer until finally hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves, causing Aventurine to yelp. The shambles of his pride that still remained stopped him from begging, but Aeons was it hard.
Not like it mattered; with how many times he'd stretched Aventurine out, Sunday knew exactly where to press and what kind of reaction he'd get. Absolutely unfair, in Aventurine's opinion. Still, there was something so romantic about the way Sunday practically had his insides memorized. Well, he thought of it as more hot than romantic. He really struggled to see sex as romantically as Sunday did.
Seemingly just for good measure he pressed into there one more time before pulling his fingers out. Aventurine verbalized his displeasure immediately, already missing being filled. His impatience had grown to be slightly infectious as Sunday fumbled with the belt of his pants, opting to discard it somewhere to be forgotten for now.
As Sunday pulled down the hem of his pants, boxers following shortly after, Aventurine frowned at him for not giving him his own chance to marvel as Sunday leaned over him. With practiced ease, he pushed his cock into Aventurine's folds. The drag was agonizingly slow, and Aventurine was already holding back the instinct to tell him to go faster already. Technically they were, y'know, making their children. Something about being super rough with it felt...wrong. Still, even as Sunday bottomed out, the slow drag back out had Aventurine reeling.
“Sunny, can you please fuck me like you're gonna fill me with your babies?” Aventurine's voice was breathy, but his mind was functioning far too well. He much preferred to be made braindead, especially if he was going to be pregnant by the end of it all. Not even pregnant— full of eggs. The thought was still a little weird to him, but it also excited him in a way he currently didn't want to dwell on.
Sunday flinched at the comment, before he pushed his head into the crook of Aventurine's neck. The new position had Aventurine pinned, something the Avgin hasn't realized he actually liked until being with Sunday. He shoved a hand under Aventurine's knees, pressing his legs back until they were flush with his body.
“Is that...better?” Sunday didn't really need to ask— the results of the new position and quicker pace were right in his ear. Aventurine was a highly vocal man, after all. Not to say that Sunday minded; he loved knowing his lover was enjoying himself.
Aventurine's hips stuttered as he tried to match the pace; finding it hard with how little he could actually move. It's not like he really needs to try, though. Sunday knows exactly where to hit to get him to see stars, and he seemingly loves to abuse this knowledge. Aventurine's vision blurs as his mind starts to haze over— now this is what he'd been craving: to be robbed of his ability to think for just a while.
“Fuck— Sunny—” Aventurine practically whines. “You wanna fill me so bad, right? You— haah — wanna fill my womb with your eggs, huh? Fuck, Sunny— keep fucking me like that and I'll...let you put as many in me as you want.”
Sunday seems too lost to properly respond, only offering a groan in his lover's ear. It's all Aventurine needs, though. He knows he's gotten to Sunday when he doesn't have a response for him. Instead, he's more focused on the feeling of Aventurine's walls; the way they spasm every time he thrusts in has him wishing he could do this for hours.
Aventurine's voice grows higher, an indication he's close even before he rasps out a warning. His breathing in Sunday's ear is heavy; most breaths ending in whines. Idly, Sunday is muttering praise in his ear. He's not entirely coherent, but it's enough. His own soon arriving climax is indicated by the way his trained rhythm starts to fall out of sync.
Aventurine's eyes blow wide as his climax hits him like a truck. The coil in his body releasing feels so, so good. He's pretty sure something rolls off his lips, he can't quite hear it. The overstimulation of Sunday continuing to thrust into him pulls him down from it, but it doesn't last long. With a few more— notably slower —thrusts, Sunday reaches his own climax. Notably a lot more intense than usual; the amount of cum Aventurine felt in him bordered on dizzying.
For a minute, the two lay together, simply coming back to full consciousness and enjoying the presence of another during the process. Sunday doesn't immediately pull out, much to Aventurine's pleasure. After a beat too long though, the weight on him becomes too much to bear. Gently, he pats Sunday's back.
“Sunny, hon, you gotta get off.” Sunday heaves out a sigh. He's content simply laying with Aventurine; especially after something so intimate. Alas, his lover hates him, and he must get up. Sunday pulls out, heaving himself up and laying next to Aventurine, who is looking at him with newfound interest.
“So, how many eggs was that? I didn't feel anything.” So now he has the biology questions. Fuck first, ask questions later, it seems. Sunday was more focused on the fact Aventurine trusted him enough to go along with it without any questions, though.
“Only about 2 to 3. They start off small enough that you shouldn't feel anything. To you, I probably just had a very...hefty climax.” Ah, so that's what that was. Well, it wasn't like Aventurine minded. If anything, he was more concerned with how into it he all was. Never in his life had he anticipated he'd be so into the thought of his lover getting him pregnant, let alone with eggs.
Eh, you learn something new every day.