by Drake Penn
Finally King releases him, retrieving the bag Gareth brought and settling in to draw. Time goes fuzzy for Gareth. Minutes, hours, days, he's not sure how long he lays there, painfully sensitive and fully spent. His senses come back to him like a hangover.
"King," he croaks out, "what the hell."
The tablet held in front of him depicts the clutch of eggs residing inside him, oblong and translucent. He pets Gareth's hair. Gareth whimpers as the eggs shift inside of him. He feels warm, almost feverish despite the cold water he's partially submerged in and his skin itches like crazy. He's an incubator, he realizes, somewhere warm and safe for King to keep these eggs.
Their eggs.
Slowly he rolls himself on his back in the water and secures himself on top the rocky shelf he'd been bent over. Now he's not at risk of drowning and can examine his bulging stomach. He looks heavily pregnant–which he guesses is literally true–and the eggs glow faintly through his skin. King rubs his hand along Gareth's belly and coos just as he did at the shark pup.
"Well," Gareth deliriously laughs to himself, "mom fucking jinxed me."
