The blankets had pooled around Geno’s waist where he had propped himself up to look at Sid. His pale chest and the remnants of his marks from many months ago were visible under the warm glow of the lamp. They had mostly faded, but Sid could have sworn he was still able to make out the faint outline of rings--some the size of dinner plates--clinging possessively to Geno’s skin.

Smut ficlets, mostly Mpreg related, but knowing me it will likely spiral.

If someone had asked him a day ago what he thought it would be like to be held prisoner by a dragon, Sid never would have guessed it would be this boring.

Sid cradled the weighty feeling of his abdomen in his hand. It wasn’t round yet, he could just feel the developing firmness under his belly button, but it would get there, and soon. Sid knew it would. Geno had triggered something in him and there was no undoing it. Sid would have to ride this wave out.