let it leave me like a long breath

i am going to preface this with this doesn't actually get to the sex scene b/c i didn't want this to be like 5000 words. but this is likely one i'll expand and post to ao3 so, you know.

---

The Genophage Amelioration Plan involved human hosts, which Vega was still a little freaked out about. Egg implantation in a genophage-ravaged womb was harder to resolve than repairing genophage-ravaged balls. There were a whole host of hormone synthesis problems that the scientists involved in the project hadn't been able to fix for female Krogans yet. But. There was a pilot program that neatly sidestepped the whole problem by giving gene therapy to other species.

That had been a weird little curiosity, some piece of information that had been safely removed as just a part of the galactic news cycle, until he'd seen Shephard waddling around, hugely pregnant, with Wrex and Grunt hanging off his every ache and pain. He was pregnant with a whole litter of Krogan kids. Both of their kids at once. The eggs were all implanted anyway; Shephard was effectively a surrogate. But, uh. With his relationship with the two Krogan, Vega knew they'd undoubtably done the, ah, fertilization the old way.

He'd, uh. Shephard was cool, okay? He was heroic and brave and basically a galactic hero even before he actually saved the galaxy. And if Vega had jerked off more than a few times to Shephard, and then also a whole hell of a lot more to the thought of him being the meat in a Krogan sandwich, well. That was just his own business, alright?

Then Shephard put out some ads. Well. Educational material about the genophage cure project, as well as announcing a fund for people going through it. Interviews. And, holy shit, this was gonna give a generation of kids a Krogan breeding fetish. The big galactic hero, sandwiched between his two boyfriends, looking at them adoringly; the both of them rubbing his hugely pregnant belly, smiling at him dopily; Wrex wryly talking about this just being the first batch; Grunt clearly getting some scripted part where he talked about the science behind the implantation and stumbling through it and then clearly going off-script to talk about how good Shephard felt, stopping maybe two words before it got incredibly pornographic. The shit was already basically fetish porn. They had shots of Shephard's bare belly, hugely pregnant, catching a kick that sent his skin wobbling, glossy stretch marks across his sides catching the light.

Vega wasn't gonna lie. He'd thought about it sometimes. What it would be like, to, y'know. Get plowed hard by a Krogan. By a dozen Krogan. Get used as a breeding bitch. He'd taken a Krogan dick before, once or twice, since-- since he got fucked by a lot of different kinds of aliens. He'd also thought about actually biting the bullet and getting knocked up with Krogan kids. Wrex and Grunt were his friends too. But the setup where he'd take some gene therapy pills for a few months and then go to a clinic to get a pre-mixed batch of eggs pipetted up his ass didn't really do it, fantasy-wise. He preferred getting fucked hard.

And it wasn't like he was gonna tell anybody about any of that, because despite his reputation he wasn't fucking crazy. But. One day Wrex just kind of appeared in his quarters.

"What the fuck?" Vega said, brows furrowed. Not angry, but definitely not happy to find Wrex loitering in his bedroom like he belonged there.

"I got a proposition for you," Wrex said. "Since you love being a slut for alien dick."

"What the fuck?!" Vega said, reflexively. "Where you get off coming in here and--"

Wrex cut him off, arching his brow ridges. "I think we both know what you like," he said, lips curling into a bit of a sneer. "Shephard had to cover up three separate scandals of video of one of your gangbangs getting leaked. 'Hotshot M7 agent found in a sling in a slum bar, begging for alien dick'. Not a good look for the program."

While Vega was still boggling at that, Wrex continued: "Y'know, I got a squad of guys, off duty in a few months. Really looking forward to the comforts of home, if you get what I'm saying. First time being back and able to breed. I was thinking I'd set up a little treat for them. I just need some holes for them to use. Or maybe one hole to get wrecked." He grinned down at Vega. "You think you got what it takes?"

James Vega wasn't a guy who got flustered easy. But his CO's boyfriend, saying that not only did he know about, uh, all the stuff Vega got up to off-duty, but-- asking him if he wanted to be part of some alien gangbang?! For real? He stammered.

Wrex just smirked at him. He raised a hand: paper bag. "I already scheduled everything. You wouldn't wanna let my boys down, would you?" He shoved the bag against Vega's chest and walked out, like he was totally confident he didn't have to do anything else.

Vega was hard in his pants. Fuck. Wrex didn't have to do anything else.

The paper bag contained: two standard pamphlets for prospective surrogates; the gene therapy pills, standard dose; some extra pills Wrex had marked as making him exude Krogan mating hormones, with instructions to take them a week before the scheduled date; and a hand-scrawled message on a piece of paper: the address a grimy dive bar, with a date and a time. Four months from now.

The next day, the conversation with Wrex felt like a bizarre dream he had, save for the paper bag was still in his bathroom. Vega popped the a blister-pack and swallowed the first pill.

---

Wrex didn't say anything about it directly. He just gave Vega looks some time. Once he asked if he was keeping up with his medication, and Vega's flustered, stammering response clearly answered it. It was one thing to beg for Krogan dick in the back of a bar, surrounded by hard cocks. It was another in full uniform, Wrex just idly shifting to the side in the shuttle before casually asking.

The big change happened when he started taking the Krogan heat compounds. Wrex noticed. Grunt noticed. Hell, random Krogan in the street noticed, visibly double-taking, inhaling deep and snuffling until they realized where the smell was coming from. Vega was so fucking horny he thought about just picking one and dragging them to any out-of-the-way spot and riding their dick right there. He was a fucking mess.

Wrex pinned him against a wall, eyes wild. He growled, low and buzzing. "Fuck, you smell good. Fertile. If I wasn't with Shephard, I'd be joining my boys. Watching you swell up as I bust a load right in your womb." He jerked back, breathing hard, huffing on Vega's heat-scent. ""

He was used to begging for cock from random strangers, not from his fucking squadmates. He still thought about it: dropping to his knees right there, begging Wrex to be the first one to breed him. Fuck, he needed to get bred. The days until the gangbang crawled forward.

Finally. The night of. Vega had been fucking himself with a giant fucking Krogan-imitation dildo for weeks. He was too fucking fertile to take any real dicks; the cum would last long enough inside him to fertilize the eggs. So he was reduced to riding bigger and bigger dildos, sweaty and flushed all the time, cock cumming totally untouched. He needed to be ready to get fucked for literally the entire night.

Vega felt woozy when he finally headed down. Big elevator, then shuttle ride, then back-alleys until he got to the place. 'The Bloated Quad', no surprise what kind of clintete the bar expected. He'd actually been there once before, months ago. When he was first thinking about getitng knocked up by Krogan cocks.

Stepping inside, and the bartender just leered at him and pointed to the back. He didn't even need to say anything; the heat-stink that followed him said everything that needed to be said. Vega was here to get bred hard.

In the back was the first time he got to see who'd be breeding him: one of the squads of the 82nd division. A wall of huge Krogan muscle, half of them already stripped out of their armor, two already stripped naked in anticipation. Vega couldn't tear his eyes off their quads: sagging down to their knees, leathery skin with a sweaty sheen, balls churning. Slimy ooze already drizzling from their hooded cocks.

There was a general murmur as he stepped in: "Fuck he smells good,"; one Krogan slapping one of the naked ones on the shoulder: "Don't bust before ya even get to shove it in," he guffawed. "Gonna be a waste of that load you've been saving." "You think he's up to it? Looks pretty delicate. I kept saying I wanted it to be a Vorcha." "Nobody else wants Vorcha fangs near their dick. You seen the vid of him taking an Elcor dick? He's durable."

Wrex had showed them the videos, apparently. Vega flushed, hot under their gaze.

Wrex was there, too. "Last thing," he said, stepping forward. "Strip."

He'd been naked in front of Wrex before. Showers, whatever. He'd never been naked in front of Wrex, with Wrex fully armored. Vega was hard and dripping, reeking of Krogan heat, dazed and so fucking desperate. Wrex touched his side and he moaned, wanton, pressing himself back into the touch, hard dick letting out a messy spurt of pre.

Wrex just laughed. "Save it for my boys. I got plenty of kids coming."

His hand slid around, one giant thumb digging into his asshole, spreading him open. Vega was fucking self-lubricating now, heat glands swollen, squirting out a foamy trickle of slick fluid, sending the heavy reek of heat into overdrive. There was a low murmur of groans from the assembled Krogan. The dicks on display were getting hard, leathery foreskins peeling back, bunching up like fat sheaths above their lurid quads. There was the slide of mesh being peeled away, the clang of armor pieces being set down.

Wrex pushed, sliding something thin and long, lubed, sliding into his ass. Then a wet splurt inside him. "Two dozen Krogan eggs," he said, sliding the pipette out. "Fresh and ready to be fertilized." He roared out, at the assembled Krogan: "One for each of you fuckheads! Better breed him good and deep if you don't want somebody else getting twins!" He slapped Vega on the shoulder. "Good luck. Me an' Grunt'll be jerking off watching the video."

With that he walked out, leaving Vega alone with two dozen pent-up, horny-as-hell Krogan commandos.