"Now they're fine. But stress can cause complications later." His hand stayed on my pregnant belly, protective in ways that went beyond instinct. "You should rest. Let your body heal before we do anything else."
"I will. But first—" I could feel what he needed through the bond, the desperate need for confirmation and connection and the hormones that would accelerate his healing. "You need to breed me."
"You're injured?—"
"And you need the bonding hormones to heal that wing properly. And I need them for these ribs." I shifted carefully to face him despite the pain. "We'll be gentle. Careful. But we both need this or we'll both suffer withdrawal."
He hesitated. But he nodded.
"I'll do the work," I said, making the decision for both of us. "You're too injured to move much. And this way I can control the movement, keep pressure off my ribs."
"Hallie—"
"We're both hurt. We both need this to heal properly. Let me take care of us."
He studied my face for a long moment, searching for certainty. Then he nodded.
I moved to straddle him moving with a stiff caution that betrayed the fire in my side.
Every shift of position sent agony lancing through my flank but I kept my breathing controlled and shallow, working through it because this was necessary. His cocks were already hard—both of them responding to proximity and need. His body knew what it required even if his mind was hesitant.
"Tell me if it hurts too much," he said, hands gentle on my hips in ways that were protective rather than possessive. "If anything feels wrong with the eggs?—"
"I will. I promise." I positioned myself over his breeding cock carefully. "Trust me."
I sank down slowly.
The stretch made me gasp like it always did, but my body accepted him the way it had learned to over these weeks. Opened. Welcomed. The familiar fullness that the bond demanded and my body craved.
I moved carefully, rolling my hips in smooth motions that kept pressure off my damaged ribs. We weren't driven by the frantic hunger of the last few days. This was slower, heavier. About care—about two wounded mates taking care of each other the only way we could.
"You fought well," he said, voice hoarse with emotion and need. "Led Vhel into the trap. Defended our nest. Protected our young."
"You fought well too." I kept the rhythm steady, focusing on the sensation rather than the pain. "Drove Kethar into the cliff face. Eliminated the threat."
"We fought well together."
"Partners."
He used both parts of himself to work my body, the dual stimulation helping distract from the fire in my side and making this about pleasure rather than just necessity.
I moved faster but still carefully, listening to my body's signals. The eggs were fine—I could feel them through the bond, safe and protected and growing. Not distressed by any of this.
"The eggs are okay?" Drav asked, reading my expression.
"They're fine. I can feel them clearly. They're not distressed at all." I leaned forward slightly, changing the angle in ways that felt better. "They're safe."
That knowledge let him relax finally, let him focus on the pleasure instead of the fear. His hands tightened on my hips—gentle but possessive in ways that made me clench around him.
I came quietly, nothing dramatic. Just a sharp inhale and a shudder that went through my whole body. Relief and satisfaction mixed together.
Drav followed immediately, the base of him expanding, anchoring us inseparably as seed flooded into me. The bonding hormones triggered immediately, spreading through both our systems and beginning the accelerated healing process we both needed.
We stayed locked for maybe fifteen minutes, both too tired to talk or move. Just existing together in the aftermath, connected in every way that mattered.
Separation occurred only when he softened, leaving us exhausted. I pulled off carefully with deliberate movements protecting my ribs. Curled against his uninjured side where I could rest without causing either of us more pain.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
