[Shiro literally can't talk. Just lean against Darc, anchoring himself with that warm, solid, familiar contact. He needs a baseline to measure what's happening to him now because he can't even process it; it's off the charts. He nuzzles back blearily, nods because he can't say keep talking to me, can only gasp sharply.

The eggs start to come slower but the intensity stays peaked; he just feels each individual egg more, sliding past the rim of his aching, wet hole. Again and again. Shiro's vision fritzes. He slumps to the side, barely managing to coordinate his own fall with his limbs so strained and every nerve in his body fired absolutely raw. Everything tunnels as he passes out.]