#mer!soap

Gaz just smiled.

"Had to brief Price first. He wanted a full tray this time, said it's been too long since your last."

Soap groaned and buried his face in his arms.

"I told them I was fine."

"And yet." Gaz's gloved fingers pressed gently along the curve of Soap's hip, seeking the subtle swell of muscle just above the cloaca. "You're backed up again."

"Mmh." Soap squirmed a little, biting his lip. "Feels weird. Like—full, but nothing'll move."

"That's 'cause you're tight inside, love. Your hold's too strong. But I'll get them out. Just like always."

Soap exhaled, muscles relaxing as he tipped his hips forward.

Gaz reached for the lube, coating his gloves in slick before gently easing one hand down, pressing two fingers against the soft opening of Soap's slit.

"Good lad," he murmured. "Just breathe for me, yeah?"

Soap's body shivered, his back arching as the first fingers slipped in. The glide was slow, easy pressure easing through layers of tissue until Gaz could sink deep enough to feel the natural barrier inside, firm and warm. The internal ring, the muscular gate that kept the eggs from descending too early.

"Still tight," Gaz muttered. His other hand pressed against Soap's abdomen, finding the subtle roundness beneath the skin. "But they're waiting. Almost ready."

He worked his fingers in a slow, firm rhythm, coaxing the inner muscle to loosen. Soap keened low in his throat, his fingers curling into the padding as his slit fluttered around the intrusion.

"It always feels so fuckin' weird," he whispered, voice pitched just slightly higher "I shouldn't want this, fuckin' hate I need it, but it's—" He gasped as Gaz pressed deeper, his palm flush now with Soap's outer skin, fingers hooked just right.

"But it feels good, doesn't it?" Gaz asked, voice low and honey smooth. "Being opened like this. Letting me take care of it."

Soap whimpered. "Y-Yeah."

"Alright," Gaz said, pressing one final time against the inner ring until it gave, shuddering open. "First one's coming."

He pulled one hand out slowly, soaked in slick, and moved it back to Soap's stomach. With careful pressure, he dragged his palm down in slow passes, guiding the clutch toward the now-relaxed channel. He felt the first orb slip down, soft and gelatinous beneath his hand.

"There it is," he whispered.

His gloved fingers caught the first egg as it breached, the walls of Soap's body clenching around it.

With practiced ease, Gaz pulled it free.

It slid into his palm quietly, glistening faintly in the low light. He passed it to the tray beside him, where it nestled into the gentle curve of the padded area.

One down.

He returned both hands to the work.

Soap moaned softly as the second egg shifted.

Gaz kept his voice calm and steady. "Still with me?"

"Mmhmm," Soap mumbled, hips twitching. His cock had begun to stiffen, flushed and hardening against his belly.

"Thought so." Gaz grinned. "Focus, now. Don't let me lose my grip on the third one."

The process repeated. Each egg took a little more from Soap, his breathing turned shallow, his body loose and overheated. His fin trembled as Gaz worked deeper, coaxing the last from him with just the right press and move of his hand against his slick walls.

When Gaz finally slid two fingers back in to check, he found nothing waiting.

He pulled out with a slick sound, reaching to remove the tray and hand it off through the hatch in the wall.

"Full count," he called. "All viable."

Price's voice crackled back. "Copy. Good work, lads."

Soap shuddered at the sound. It always made him feel something. Gaz knew. The praise, the approval. Even the clinical approval from Price. The knowledge that his body had done something useful. It did something to him. Made sense, really, Soap had always run on success, on being useful to the aquarium, the mer rescues, the researchers, on being enough. This was just another kind of that.

"You did perfect," Gaz murmured, reaching down to rub his belly. "Didn't you, sweetheart?"

Soap chirped softly, a half-purring, half-clicking noise from deep in his throat. His cock twitched against the table, hard and flushed with blue-purple veins.

Gaz's hand drifted lower.

"Ready for your reward?"

Soap nodded quickly, tailfin twitching where it curled over the edge of the table.

Gaz slipped his hand back inside, slowly this time, taking his time. His fingers curled deep, then dragged along the soft, empty passage with rhythmic pressure, stroking over the tender walls that had once cradled the clutch.

Soap cried out, sharp and high.

His hips bucked, but Gaz's other hand pinned him firm.

"That's it, darling. You're alright. You stay right there. You let me work."

His strokes were slow and deep. Over and over. Enough to make Soap shake, slick pouring from his slit, coating Gaz's wrist, his cock leaking across his stomach.

When Gaz finally curled his fingers just so, brushing against the little swell of nerve that made Soap cry out, his whole body locked up and then he came.

Slick splattered across the table. His cock pulsed, spurting in rhythm with the clenching of his muscles around Gaz's hand, still slowly working him through it.

Afterward, Gaz shifted to cradle Soap's hips, rubbing his back as he shook with aftershocks.

"You're so good for me," Gaz whispered against his skin. "So fucking good, sweetheart."

Soap just whined, curling into the praise, resting his head on Gaz's shoulder.

His gills fluttered soft and slow now. His glow had returned, bright and humming.

And when Gaz pulled his hand free at last, he wiped it clean, kissed the nape of Soap's neck, and murmured "Got some salmon waiting for you too, darling."

Soap's eyes fluttered open. "Aye. I've earned it."