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It had been around 6 months since the Fount had chosen to live a life with his Dearest Healer. That would be approximately 29 weeks, or 203 days. This being said, He has been carrying dough for 6 of the 9 months, Hence the bump on his belly and the doughling kicking at his own from where it lay inside.
This also explains why there was a very frantic, near hysteric Healer at his side after he had tripped on his own robes, now on his knees. He had suggested they change his elegant robes for something more comfortable and casual, But Fount had, unsurprisingly, claimed that he mustn't let mere dough ruin his pristine image. It was true! Just because he was 'pregnant' did not mean he'd have to belittle himself to rags.
"Fount, My Songbird, please? You needn't worry about the appearance of your clothing if it is more comfortable than tripping over them!" Healer Stressed, helping the shorter—if only by an inch, mind you—up with an arm around his waist, the other holding his hand in his own. With such a tone, it did not take The Fount of Knowledge himself to know he was making an attempt at sweet talking.
"No! I refuse to be coddled, Healer!" He pouted in response, brushing his robes off with a slight wince at the sensitive breasts. Yes, when shifting his body to hold dough, it came with the burden of breasts. Very sensitive, might he add.
Healer only frowned, gently guiding him back toward the direction of their abode. His grip was firm but not unkind, fingers pressing just enough into Fount’s waist to remind him of his presence and to provide stability. "You are not being coddled, My love," Healer murmured, his voice soft. "You are being cared for. There is a difference that shares little to no similarites to being coddled." He sighed, adjusting his steps to match Fount’s slower, waddling pace.
See, Fount was not one to complain. If all was well and he and his Dove were breathing, than he had no reason to do so. However, he never had to complain about his breasts being larger than his palms, and therefore aching to a point of discomfort and pain.
Fount pouted, peeling the damp fabric away from his chest with a frustrated sigh before turning to Healer. His cheeks flushed a deep purple as his frown deepened. "As much as I’d love to keep it to myself and have it not known to save the embarrassment," he muttered, gesturing vaguely at the mess, "my chest—" he pokes a tender breast, albeit not without wincing. "Will not stop leaking!"
Healer tilted his head, the faint scent of blueberries catching his attention long before Fount's frustrated huff did. His fingers brushed against the damp fabric of Fount’s robes, tracing the wet patch with a confused frown. "Is this—?" he began, but Fount cut him off with an irritated, impatient noise, grabbing Healer’s wrist and shoving his palm directly against the swollen curve of his breast. The fabric was soaked through, warm and sticky against Healer’s dough.
Healer gasped, poking at the dough on the others chest. "You're...you're producing!" He exclaimed, leaning forward to further prod, undeterred by Fount's offended gasp. Healer only shifts to hold his staff in the crevice of his elbow, using one hand to lift the damp fabric off of his dough, and the other to slip underneath—to which earned him an abrupt slap on his shoulder as Fount pulled away.
"H-Healer!! You-!!" He squealed, adjusting his robes. They weren't necessarily in a populated area, quite far from such, actually. A few yards away from their home, yet a couple more from population. Even with such being true, that did not mean one could just...peel off the other's clothing. He, at least, had some decency.
Healer frowns, readjusting his grip on his staff. "Did I do something wrong? I only was attempting to feel how much could be produced. It's similar to that of milk from sheep! I only wanted to make sure they weren't filled to the point of pain. Are they? Your breasts, I mean."
Fount, surprisingly enough for the amount of pain he was in, only shudders and gives a weak nod, before mentally slapping himself. He can't see. Obviously. Way to go, Fount of Knowledge. Perhaps the Knowledge was the head he'll lose along the way. What a day to know his future!
"Yes, they are. They leak nearly...every day, truthfully." He sighs, picking at the fabric sticking to said things. To this, Healer's frown further deepens, reaching out to hold the hand of his lover. Had he known his Songbird was in pain, he'd have never brought him out today!! They had been walking for nearly two hours, only stopping at a few columns for foods that Fount had been craving—specifically bitter sweets and spicy foods.
"Dearest...Why did you not tell me you were in pain?" He pled, lifting his hand to brush his lips against the warm dough of his knuckle. With the brush of dough against dough, Fount could feel the warmth of Healer's magic seep into his dough, threading his pains into something softer, something much kinder to handle, alongside the side effects of such weak dough.
On such a topic, their biggest worry was Fount's dough, in itself. Weak as it was, they feared—or rather Healer feared— that he would not survive labor. Fount had, expectantly, only ushered off the matter to that of a mere complication that he could handle quite well, though it always did very little to soothe his worries.
Zoning back into reality, Fount only tilts his head down at the other, albeit only a literal inch or two that the difference was nearly impossible to distinguish or notice. Why had he not told him? Well, it was truly simple. He knew his dove, and therefore knew that know that he knew, he'd never catch a break.
Fount Frowns, tilting his head away and blinking up at the grey sky. Ah, It would rain soon. No wonder the air felt so odd. Or, maybe that was just his mind feeling clouded. Shaking his hand out of the other's hold with a strained smile, he hums.
"I suppose I hadn't found it quite worth the effort. It is not a big issue for me, Truly. You needn't fret." He says listlessly, continuing his walk forward without a single glance back. He knows Healer will follow; He's like a cute puppy.
The shorter perks up at the sound of footsteps leaving, quickly following behind—and quickly catching up, wrapping his arms around Fount's own arm, staff held in the crevice of his elbow once again. "Fount, My love, Please. You are straining yourself! Let me carry you the rest of the way, Please." He begged, leaning forward as he walked as if to look the other up and down. Which was funny, because he could not see. Obviously.
Fount's face scrunches up at this action, involuntarily moving away from the other. Why would a blind man even do such a thing? It's odd. It's creepy. Unsettlingly humorous. With a huff, Fount quickens his steps, spotting their home in the distance.
"Healer, I cannot stress this enough, but I assure you that I am fi-ine—?!" His very believable stressed expression was cut off as said male slipped an arm beneath his legs, the other that held his staff holding his lower back before lifting him effortlessly, carrying him bridal style. The nerve he had, to handle one who is pregnant so abruptly!
Healer only makes a soft 'tsk' in reply, shaking his head softly and bouncing the other into a better grip, approaching their home's door with a much quicker pace than he himself had. "I'm sure you are, but I'd rather you not crack your dough further, My Dear." Healer sighed, lifting Fount up a bit to rub his cheek atop his starry hair.
Fount pouted, blushing as they passed several maids and castle cleaners, hiding the lower half of his face in the collar of his robes. The sheer indignity of being carried like some swooning maiden—while leaking blueberry-scented milk through his robes, no less—was enough to make his dough prickle with heat and make his stomach churn. One of the maids stifled a giggle behind her hand, finding the sight of their dearest Fount being carried. Fount's frown deepend as he sank deeper into his robes, muffling a grumble. "This is humiliating," he hissed, lightly hitting Healers shoulder.
Healer’s lips quirked into a smirk as he nudged the door to their room open with his hip. "Humiliating?" he echoed, his voice soft. "My love, you are carrying our doughling. There is nothing humiliating about needing care." He kicked the door shut behind them with a little more force than necessary, the sound making Fount flinch. Who could blame him? His lovely Fount was so sweet when he was trying to be indifferent to his pains, the scent of him intoxicating. He could not help but feel a bit needy, himself.
Healer deposited Fount onto the plush bedding, His body bouncing slightly, causing a wince at the bounce of his tender breasts. The staff clattered against the nightstand as Healer discarded it, his hands immediately returning to Fount’s slim waist, thumbs tracing up, up, up, until the rested against the strained, wet fabric where his swollen breasts pressed against the damp robes. Fount’s breath hitched when Healer’s lips brushed the sensitive spot beneath his ear, teeth scraping before his tongue darting out to flick against the dough. "H-Healer—!" he exclaimed, hands moving up as his fingers tangling in the other’s hair.
"You should probably remove your robes, lest they get further soiled." Healer mumured against his dough sheepishly, poking a breast with a whisper of a kiss before pulling away to allow him room to undress. Fount chews his bottom lip, cheeks warm with blush as he grumbles curses, half heartedly pushing the other away to pull his robes off and over his head. He wore no bra, nor underwear, surprisingly for someone so modest.
Healer tilted his head, confused. "My dove," he murmured, brows furrowing, "there is no way you have discarded all of your clothing so quickly!" He sputtered, raising a hand to feel before it hovered uncertaintly, pausing mid reach. To this, Fount rolls his eyes and grips the other's wrist, pulling it to rest on one of his bare breasts, palm pressing firmly against the leaking bosom.
Healer's mouth opened slightly, a silent 'o' forming on his lips as his fingers sank into the soft, swollen dougj of Fount's breast. The warmth of his touch sent a shudder through Fount's body, his back arching slightly as Healer began to knead with eager yet gentle motions. His other hand soon joined, both palms working in tandem to ease the ache that had been plaguing Fount for weeks. A quiet moan escaped Fount's lips, half in relief and the other dull pain, as he slumped back against the headboard, his eyelids fluttering shut.
Had he knew this would feel so good yet so...odd, he'd have allowed healer to know such earlier. Faintly beneath the fog in his mind, he could feel their doughling kicking softly in his stomach. Such a fact, his breasts began to leak slightly, even just thinking of their baby. How odd, female anatomy was. This is why he had always preferred no anatomy— just smooth dough. He had tried male, and he would wake up with the most horrid boner, 'morning wood', healer had called it as he would stroke his stressful situation away. He also found the whole...anal, sex, odd and difficult—the cleaning, of course. And the prep. He'd much rather stick to what Healer called 'frottage', thank you very much.
Speaking of Healer, he had come to find out that his breasts were, indeed, leaking.
"Oh, My Fount..." he cooed, brushing his thumbs over the perky areolas of his breasts. Fount only sighed a soft moan, lifting his heavy hands to discard the soft bandages around the others Blind eyes. Though Useless, he found them quite beautiful.
Said Unseeing eyes looked up at where Healer assumed his face was, before shamelessly leaning down to wrap his lips around a nipple, flicking his tongue against the sensitive dough. Fount chokes out a moan, arms sliding down to wrap around Healer's back, arching into his very eager mouth.
Healer's unseeing eyes remained tilted upward, as if still searching for Fount’s face even as his lips sealed tight around one swollen nipple, tongue flicking in slow strokes, throat bobbing with each eager gulp. Fount gasped, hands coming up to curl in his hair as his back arched off the bed, pressing his chest further into that warm, willing mouth. The hand not currently occupied kneaded his other breast with practiced ease, thumb brushing over the damp peak in a way that made Fount’s thighs clench.
"H-Healer—!" He whined, fingers tightening in those soft curls as his hips jerked involuntarily when the other’s free hand trailed down past the swell of his belly, past the soft crease of his thigh, until clever, calloused fingers found the swollen nub hidden beneath its hood, circling it with a slow, teasingly gentle pressure that had Fount’s breath stuttering, legs aswell.
Healer hummed against his breast, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure up Fount’s spine. His lips never faltered, suckling with a rhythm that matched the small, tight circles his fingers traced around Fount’s clit. The sound was obscene, yet only made his cunt wetter as Healer swallowed every drop of tge sweet blueberry-scented milk that spilled into his mouth. Fount’s grip on his hair tightened enough to make his scalp burn deliciously, his hips bucking upward when Healer’s fingers finally slipped lower, dragging through slick folds before returning to rub his clit, albeit quicker this time.Fount’s breath hitched in his throat, a whimper escaping as his thighs trembled near dramatically each time his clit was touched directly.
Releasing the breast, Healer now gulps air instead of milk, almost as greedily as he had said milk. His fingers move from circles to firm sliding, side to side, directly against his clit. With each slide, Fount's legs jerk embarassingly hard. He always had such a sensitive body, but his stamina made up for it. He could cum quite alot in one day, but he came very quickly, so it evened itself out.
Healer tilts his head up to mouth at Fount’s neck while holding his legs apart with his own, pressing harder against the sensitive nub. "My dove, you tremble so easily," he coos, his free hand moving to rub his belly bump, fingers tracing the taut curve where their doughling stirred beneath. Fount shudders, breaths heavy as his hips grinded up into the touch, his arousal dribbling like syrup.
Fount’s breath hitched when Healer’s fingers dipped lower, teasing at his entrance before sliding in with ease. His cunt eagerly took them in, squeezing warmly around the digits before relaxing. "H-Healer—ah—!" he moaned, eyes rolling back as those fingers crooked upward and curled, vibrating against the bumpy sweet spot. Healer’s mouth returned to his breast, suckling hard enough to draw another gush of milk, the sweet-tart scent of blueberries filling the air between them.
Fount's back arched off the bed as Healer's fingers pressed deeper, dragging along the ridges, causing a small whimper to espace his lips. He could distantly feel drool dribbling down his chin, heels digging into the sheets as his hips jerked in erratic little circles. The wet squelch of Healer's fingers moving inside him was loud, yet mingled beautifully with the slick sound of lips around his nipple and the ragged, punched-out moans tumbling from his own mouth that somehow sounded so, so far away.
Fount gasped, legs attempting to slam shut as he threw his head back, squeezing his eyes shut with his mouth agape. "Ah-ah!!'M gna C-Cum—!!" The warning came out strangled, his whole body locking up like a snapped bowstring, toes curling into the sheets. Healer's fingers never slowed, rubbing firm circles against that spongy spot inside him that made stars much like the flickering ones in his hair burst behind his eyelids. His cunt clenched rhythmically around the digits, milk spraying from his nipples in thin arcs as his orgasm ripped through him with dizzying force. Healer drank greedily, swallowing every drop as Fount's hips stuttered against his hand, oversensitive and twitching.
Healer pulled back with a hum, sliding his fingers out with a 'shlk' before pulling them up to Fount's mouth, pressing against his lolled out tongue. Found eagerly cleans himself off of Healer's fingers, swirling his finger around the wet digits before unwrapping his lips with s faint pop.
Spreading the other's legs, Healer leans down to be face to face with his sopping wet cunt, nuzzling his nose against the curly mound and inhaling softly. One could not blame a guy for enjoying the scent of his lover! Sweet and intoxicating, especially from the core.
His tongue flicks out for a little lick at the slick that had gathered between his folds, moaning softly before his tongue presses flat against the soft dough, dragging up to where the clit hid between the folds. His thumbs moved in to spread said folds, blind, milky eyes blinking up at Fount, who was now looking down at him with lidded eyes. Healer smiles before spitting directly onto his entrance, circling and pushing it in with a thumb.
Fount Bites his lip, cheeks growing warmer with each soft rub of the calloused dough against his slick entrance. His hands come to rest on Healers head, massaging his scalp as he leans down to properly lap at his slick folds, tongue probing and prodding at his cunt before slipping into the tight hole, thrusting it in and out while a thumb moves to gently rub his clit once more, the other hand kneading his inner thighs soothingly.
"Oh, Healer..." Fount moans, biting his lip and gripping the blonde curls between his fingers. His hair was always so soft, and always smelled of vanilla. feeling particularly needy, Fount tugs Healer away from his cunt, earning him a small sound of protest before he is pulled up by the other's side, and pulled into a kiss that quickly deepened by a very eager Healer.
Moaning against the other's lips, Healer's tongue traces Fount's bottom lip before prying it away from the top, slipping into the warm embrace of his own tongue. Fount's hands slip down to cradle his face, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones with a small smile against his lips.
Fount pulls back, pressing their foreheads together as Healer shifts to lay beside him.
"Do you feel relaxed now, My Songbird? Has the weight of the stress and..aha, the chest, lifted off your shoulders?" He giggled, pressing his cheek against the other's bare collar bone. Fount only snorts, a soft purr vibrating through his throat as Healer begins carding his fingers through his hair, which clung to him as if sentient. The stars were slightly dulled, albeit no less intense than enough to qualify as eye catching.
"I suppose it has, yes. Thank you, My Dove." He whispered, pressing a kiss to the head of curls resting on his chest. Healer only wraps his arms around the other's neck, sighing contentedly.
...He'd just stroke himself to finish in the restroom later, once Fount had fallen asleep.