Page 66 of Expensive

“Please,” he begs.

I slip my metal fingers between his ass cheeks and his eyes close with pleasure.

Andrew’s body is familiar now. I know how slowly I need to go to open him up. I know how long he likes to adjust to my finger before I withdraw and add another. When I had a variety of sexual partners, I always had to stop and figure out their preferences. I didn’t mind, of course, but this is so much better.

It’s like Andrew and I were made for each other.

He thinks we’re fated mates. I don’t know if I believe that. There’s fate and then there’s fighting tooth and nail for someone because you love them so much, you won’t let anyone or anything take them away from you.

I think what we have is far better than the life fate tried to give us.

When I slip in a third finger, I adjust the width at first to make it a little easier for him to take. Then I slowly make the finger thicker.

He squirms. “Daddy, are you… Oh God…”

I keep expanding my third finger, and my sweet boy starts rocking his hips again.

The doctor told me that it was traditional for dragon shifters to open up their omegas so the eggs could pass through. While most of the dragon shifters I’ve met are assholes, there are some dragon shifter traditions I can get behind.

“I’m going to move my fingers,” I warn him. During his egg-laying process I don’t want there to be any surprises. I slowly withdraw my fingers and press them back inside him.

“Oh… oh I need…” he says, sinking his head into the mattress, his shoulders tensing.

I widen the part of my fingers that are deep inside him. Almost like a knot swelling within.

“Yes! Oh, Daddy!”

“Do you like that, baby boy?” I ask. I know it isn’t my flesh and blood inside him, but I can still feel the heat of his walls around my fingers—still hear the quickening of his breath.

“More,” he whispers.

I don’t just keep expanding within him, I move, pressing the swell of my engorged metal fingers to his rim. He grasps at the sheets and lets out a moan.

Adding my fourth finger is easy. I make it infinitesimally small and allow him to get used to it before expanding the width.

He shakes his head. I know it’s a lot, and if it weren’t for those precious eggs inside him, I wouldn’t ask this of him.

“You can do this, baby boy,” I reassure him. Then I tuck my metal thumb inside his rim.

His hips start rocking again. I move my hand with the rhythm of his body. At first, I move my whole arm with him, then I realize I don’t need to.

The magic metal can move all on its own.

He takes my thumb in deeper and deeper, until he gets to the widest part of my hand. I narrow my palm to help him take it, but a part of me knows he needs my full hand if he’s going to lay our eggs. I only narrow it for a moment or two before I slowly let the full shape of my hand stretch him wide.

He claws at the sheets again and clamps down hard.

I don’t want it to be too much for him, so I let my hand shrink, then expand again, giving him a small break from the size of it.

“Oh, Daddy! Oh!”

The second time I let him have the full width of my hand he spasms around me, and his cock spills onto the sheets underneath.

I rock my hand back and forth, and pulse the width of my hand at the same time. He’s writhing underneath me now, so slick with sweat that I couldn’t get a hold on him if I tried. He starts talking nonsense, begging me to stop and for more at the same time. His ass contracts and then something hard and firm presses against my fingertips.

An egg.

“You’re doing so good, baby boy. Our eggs are coming.”

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