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Telamon was never one to lose control.
His composure was a blade—polished, precise, and perfectly honed—and for centuries it had never wavered. Until now.
The heat had started three days ago. At first, it was nothing but a low, constant burn under his skin, the kind he could smother with sheer discipline. But now it had grown claws, curling deep into his muscles, dragging through his veins like fire every time he moved, every time he breathed. It made his pulse too loud in his ears, made his thoughts scatter and fray. It was maddening.
And worst of all, Builderman was here.
Telamon paced the length of the bedroom like a caged animal, the soft lamplight casting long, restless shadows along the walls. His jaw clenched with every step. He could feel the heat beating through him in sharp, demanding pulses, every heartbeat twisting tighter and tighter until his composure was little more than a trembling thread.
Behind him, Builderman lounged on the bed like he had all the time in the world, foot tapping lazily against the floorboards. The faintest smirk played on his lips, infuriatingly casual.
“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” Builderman drawled, voice low and easy, like the heat crawling under Telamon’s skin wasn’t even worth acknowledging.
Telamon turned sharply, his long coat flaring behind him, every movement too precise, too controlled—because if he stopped holding himself together, he might come apart entirely.
“Telamon,” he muttered, the curse to himself slipping out before he could bite it back. His voice was tight, frayed at the edges. “You drive me to madness.”
Builderman tilted his head slowly, grin widening like a man watching a storm roll in from the safety of his porch. “Reckon you called me here for a reason,” he said lazily. “Or was this just a social call?”
Telamon’s jaw ticked, his breath sharp as he dragged his fingers through his hair in a rare, restless gesture. Heat burned down his spine like molten iron, every heartbeat pounding need through his veins until it was all he could do to keep his voice steady.
“You know very well,” he said finally, his tone clipped but shaking under the strain, “this is no game.”
Builderman leaned back on his elbows, boots crossed at the ankle, entirely too calm for the way Telamon was practically unraveling before him. “Coulda fooled me, darlin’. You’re lookin’ about ready to snap.” His grin was slow, lazy, infuriating.
“Kinda pretty, though. Seein’ you all riled up like that.”
Telamon’s breath stuttered. Barely—but enough. The heat roared through him, eating at his self-control with every passing second, and this man had the gall to sit there with that smug smile like Telamon wasn’t burning alive from the inside out.
“You have no idea,” Telamon bit out, voice low, “what you’ve walked into tonight.”
“Maybe I do,” Builderman murmured, tipping his head back against the headboard, still grinning like he had the upper hand. “And maybe I like it.”
Telamon froze, his chest heaving once, sharply. Days of restraint frayed in an instant, something hot and dangerous flaring behind his eyes. His heat twisted through him with vicious insistence, clawing at his composure until his hands shook with the effort of staying still.
It was Builderman’s smile that finally broke him—that lazy, infuriating smirk like he wasn’t worth taking seriously.
—
Builderman's eyes widened with each powerful thrust from Telamon, his body bouncing on the bed like a rag doll in the hands of an angry god. His cheeks were flushed, sweat beading at his hairline, and his Southern drawl had been reduced to a series of desperate whimpers and gasps.
Telamon's grip was unrelenting, his fingers digging into Builderman's hips as he pounded into him with a fervor that seemed to shake the very foundations of the room. "You like that?" He growled, his breath hot against Builderman's neck, his sharp canines grazing the soft skin. "You like it when I take what's mine?"
"O-oh Telamon—" Builderman managed to stutter out, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes rolling back into his head as Telamon's thick, girthy cock pummeled his tight hole mercilessly. The room was a blur of shadow and light, the only clear image being the look of pure concentration on Telamon's face, the sweat glistening on his brow as he worked to claim what was his.
"Yeah, take it," Telamon snarled, his voice thick with need. "Take all of me." His grip tightened, his claw-like fingernails digging into the soft flesh of Builderman's thighs, leaving half-moons in his wake. "You're going to feel me, deep inside."
Builderman's eyes snapped open, a wild look of excitement flashing across his features. "Telamon, I--"
Telamon leaned down, his eyes burning into Builderman's, his teeth bared in a predatory smile. "You're going to beg for it."
Builderman's pulse raced, his body responding to the challenge in Telamon's tone. "Beg?" He scoffed, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. "I don't beg."
Telamon chuckled, the sound low and dark, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "We'll see about that." He leaned in closer, his breath a warm whisper across Builderman's ear. "But first, I think it's time we take this to the next level, don't you?"
Builderman's eyes widened with excitement and a hint of trepidation, his voice shaky as he managed to gasp out, "W-what's that supposed to mean?"
Telamon leaned back, his cock still buried deep inside Builderman, his grip never loosening. "It means," he said, his voice a purr of satisfaction, "that I'm going to breed you. Plant my eggs deep within you."
Builderman's eyes went wide, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. "Your...eggs?" He stuttered, his voice thick with nerves. "But-but I'm not-not built for that, Telamon. I'm not-"
"You're more than capable," Telamon said, his voice a low rumble of assurance, his eyes never leaving Builderman's. "You're mine. And I'm going to fill you up until there's no room for anything else."
Builderman's heart was racing, his body trembling with anticipation. He knew this was what Telamon had been working towards—his heat had made it clear—but the reality of the situation was something else entirely. He swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to Telamon's, searching for any sign of doubt. "Yes, Telamon," he murmured. "I'm ready for you."
Telamon's grin was pure triumph, his eyes flashing with a predatory light. "Good," he said, his grip on Builderman's hips tightening. "Because I've been waiting for this moment for what feels like an eternity." He leaned in, his teeth grazing Builderman's earlobe, sending shivers down his spine. "You're going to carry my seed, my legacy," he whispered, his voice a dark promise.
Builderman's eyes fluttered shut, his breath coming in shallow pants as he felt the first twinge of Telamon's knot swelling at the base of the hybrid's cock, locking them together in a dance as old as time. He was torn between the pain of the stretch and the sweet pressure of Telamon's knot pushing against his prostate. "Telamon," he whimpered, his body betraying him, arching back into the touch even as his mind reeled from the thought.
"Take it," Telamon hissed, his eyes dark with desire, his strokes slowing as the knot grew larger. "Take it all, Builderman. You're going to be mine, in every way that matters."
Builderman's breath hitched. "I-I already am yours, ain't I?" His voice trembled, sweat slicking his skin. "Always been."
Telamon's thrusts slowed, deliberate, grinding the swelling knot against that sweet spot. "Then prove it," he growled. "Take what I give you."
Builderman gasped, nails scraping sheets. "It's—so heavy—"
Telamon’s knot swelled, locking deep. "Take. It." His voice was gravel, low and absolute. Builderman’s body arched, strained taut. A low, broken whine escaped him.
An egg slid thick, impossibly wide. It burned. Builderman gasped, eyes wild. "Oh—!" It pushed past his rim, stretching him raw. Deep, deeper, carving a path inside.
Telamon watched, eyes dark. "Hold it." His voice was velvet steel. Builderman trembled, sweat dripping. He felt it lodge low, heavy as stone. Solid. Unmoving. A hard, hot weight pressing down.
"Another," Telamon simply said, grinding deeper. The second egg slid slickly behind the first. Builderman cried out, sharp and ragged. "T-Telamon—!" It forced its way, stretching him impossibly wider. Burning. Tearing. He felt it push past the tight ring of muscle, thick and unyielding.
It lodged hard against the first egg, a solid, heavy pressure low in his belly. Builderman gasped, fingers clawing at the sheets. "Feels... like stones," he choked out, sweat stinging his eyes. His stomach visibly bulged, taut skin straining around the twin weights.
Telamon’s fingers dug into Builderman’s hips, grinding deeper. "Hold them," he commanded, voice rough. "Or you’ll feel worse."
Builderman whimpered, sweat dripping down his temples. "So... full," he gasped, shifting slightly. The eggs pressed deep, unyielding. "How many…?"
Telamon chuckled darkly. "As many as it takes." His thumb brushed over Builderman's swollen belly. "Feel that? Proof you're mine." Builderman shuddered, the eggs shifting inside him. "Ain't... ain't stoppin' yet?"
Telamon’s grin sharpened. "Not even close." His hips snapped forward, grinding the eggs deeper. "You’ll take every last one.”
"I-I can’t think—" Another egg slid deep. Builderman gasped. Sweat stung his eyes. His belly strained, skin tight as a drum over the three heavy eggs lodged deep inside.
"T-Telamon—" he choked out, accent thick and slurred. "Feels like... rocks. Movin'." He shifted, wincing. The eggs pressed hard against tender places.
Telamon’s hips snapped forward. Another egg slid thick and heavy. Builderman gasped, arching off the bed. "Telamon—!" His belly swelled tighter. Skin stretched shiny. Sweat pooled beneath him. "Ah—!"
Telamon’s grip tightened. "You’ll take it." His hips slammed forward. Another egg forced its way in. Builderman screamed, back arching off the bed. His belly swelled obscenely. Four eggs now. Heavy. Deep. "O-oh my—please—!"
"Begging already?" Telamon snarled, grinding deeper. "Good." His claws dug into Builderman’s hips. "But you’re not done." He thrust hard. Relentless. Builderman gasped. Tears mixed with sweat. "Please—!"
Telamon slammed forward again. Another thick egg slid deep. Builderman choked, belly swelling obscenely. Five now. Heavy. Immovable. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "T-Telamon—!"
Telamon’s hips slammed forward. "Last one," he snarled. Builderman choked as the final egg slid thick and heavy—no stretch, just brutal pressure. Six eggs. His belly bulged obscenely, skin stretched tight and slick. "Ah…!" Tears streamed. "Oh... Oh—"
Then it hit him. A sharp, sudden pressure—not from the eggs, but lower. Unmistakable. His cock, untouched and ignored, jerked violently. A hot, thick jet of pearly fluid shot across his stomach, splattering his heaving chest.
Not cum. Squirting.
Clear, slick fluid pulsed out in a startling arc, soaking the sheets beneath him. His eyes flew wide—shock, humiliation, a raw gasp tearing from his throat. "Oh—what—?!" he gasped, voice raw. Builderman's body arched violently as another hot jet pulsed out, pearly fluid splattering across his heaving stomach. "Wh-what the hell—?!"
The words slurred thick with his accent, trembling as much as his spent body. Telamon froze above him, his own breath catching mid-thrust. The relentless rhythm stuttered, his eyes narrowing in pure amusement as he stared down at the evidence glistening on Builderman's skin.
"Squirting?" he murmured, the word curling like smoke from his lips. "Untouched at that." His gaze raked over the slick mess on Builderman’s stomach, the humiliation burning hotter than the eggs still lodged deep inside
Builderman flinched, trying to curl away, but Telamon’s knot held him fast, grinding the eggs mercilessly against his prostate. "Pathetic," Telamon hissed, leaning close enough for Builderman to feel the heat of his breath. "Didn’t even need my hand. Just the thought of being filled was enough, wasn’t it?"
Builderman’s face flushed crimson, the humiliation searing hotter than the eggs still lodged deep inside him. He tried to twist away, but Telamon’s knot held him pinned, grinding those heavy weights against his prostate with every slight shift. "Didn’t—didn’t mean to—" he stammered, voice cracking.
Telamon’s low, dark chuckle cut him off, the sound vibrating through their joined bodies. "Oh, you meant it," he purred, claws digging possessively into Builderman’s hips. "Your body doesn’t lie. Look at you—dripping like a cheap tavern wench just from taking my seed." The contempt in his tone was a blade, twisting.
Telamon’s hips snapped forward with a final, brutal thrust, his knot swelling to its fullest as he buried himself to the hilt. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat—raw and primal—as his release surged hot and thick deep inside Builderman.
He pulsed with it, each jet of cum flooding the space around the eggs, a scalding counterpoint to the heavy, immovable weights already stretching Builderman to the limit. The hybrid’s eyes rolled back, his own breath catching in a ragged gasp as he felt the heat spread, filling him beyond what he thought possible.
Telamon’s breath caught—a sharp, jagged inhale that echoed in the sudden stillness. His eyes, dark and dilated, locked onto Builderman’s heaving chest. The hybrid’s pulse hammered visibly at his throat, each beat frantic and shallow. Sweat-slicked skin glistened under the lamplight, trembling with the aftershocks of release.
The room was quiet now, save for Builderman’s ragged breathing. He lay back against the pillows, trembling from exhaustion, sweat streaking down his temples. Every line of his body screamed fatigue, though his eyes, half-lidded and glassy, still carried that familiar spark of defiance.
Telamon stood over him, expression unreadable, chest rising and falling in controlled, deliberate motions. The storm in his movements had passed, leaving behind a strange, simmering calm that felt almost heavier than his earlier fury.
At last, he spoke, voice low but edged with that same imperious tone. “There,” he said softly, though the words carried like iron through the air. “It is done.”
Builderman swallowed hard, throat bobbing, then managed a shaky chuckle. “You… sure know how t’leave a man breathless,” he drawled, voice hoarse but tinged with faint humor.
Telamon’s sharp gaze flicked down at him, irritation and something darker flickering behind his eyes. “You risk much with that tongue of yours,” he murmured, stepping closer.
Builderman tilted his head back against the headboard, managing the ghost of a smirk despite his trembling frame. “Reckon you like me that way,” he muttered, the lazy grin not quite hiding the edge of exhaustion beneath it.
For a long moment, Telamon simply looked at him—at the bruises already blooming on Builderman’s hips, the sheen of sweat catching the low light, the rise and fall of his chest as he fought to catch his breath. Then he leaned down, slow and deliberate, one hand bracing against the bed frame beside Builderman’s head.
“You talk too much,” Telamon said at last, his voice dropping to a low, steady rumble. “And yet… you endure.” He studied him for a beat longer before pulling back, sharp eyes softening almost imperceptibly. “Rest. You will need it.”
Builderman gave a small, breathless laugh, letting his eyes drift shut. “Darlin’, I think I’m gonna need a week.”
For once, Telamon did not correct him.