Page 17 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle

I retract my hand, and his back arches as he tries to follow my touch. I push his sweats down, along with his boxers, and his cock springs free, already flushed dark and heavy, twitching where it’s pressed between his belly and mine.

My fingers brush over his thighs, light as seafoam. His breath catches, and one of his tentacles curls around my wrist—loose, tentative, like it might be trying to guide, but it isn’t quite sure.

I spread his thighs apart so I can slide between his legs, settling to my knees on the floor and dragging his sweatpants down with me.

I tug them from his ankles along with his boxers, then my hands roam up over his hips, over the soft give of his waist and the warm, dense muscle beneath. He’s gorgeous.

Cal moans when I press a kiss to the inside of his knee, and I stifle the tremulous little laugh that wants to bubble out of me at the fact that he’s already so utterly undone.

A tentacle strokes over my back, up my spine, trembling.

“Before I go any further, I need your words.” I lift my gaze to his, where his eyes are that deep-sea shattered kind of violet color usually reserved for right before he comes. Or maybe he is about to come. He looks to be hanging on by a thread. “Tell me your safe word, Cal.”

He chuffs a laugh, rolling his eyes as he looks down at me. “Cthulhu,” he says with a displeased but affectionate tone. Seems he still hasn’t recovered from my on-the-spot choice of safe word. “And this is my gesture.” He taps the back of his hand to my shoulder.

“Good.” I catch his hand, turning his palm to my face so I can press a kiss to the center. “Tell me what you want, baby. I need to hear you tell me what you want.”

“I want—” His breath breaks open on the word like a wave against the shoreline, as if he’s afraid of the desire itself. “I want you to fuck me, love. Please. ”

He gasps as I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, thumbing lightly over the underside of the head. His body jolts like I’ve filled him with kerosene and lit him up from the inside.

“So good for me.”

The sound he makes is something close to a whimper.

His tentacles twitch, almost pleading. One of them wraps over my shoulder, and I turn absently to drop a kiss to it, then grin up at Cal. “So, which one of these is going inside you?”

He gives a low, broken little laugh that’s barely a sound. “Love… don’t make it weird.”

I tip my head, lips brushing the underside of his dick. “Weird?”

“You choose one,” he mutters, voice a raw scrape of nerves and arousal. “The less I think about it being one of mine , the better.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of me. “Would you prefer to pretend it’s mine?”

Cal’s mouth falls open, his head tips back, and all the air punches from his lungs with a moan he can’t hope to control. “Oh fuck, Neviah.”

I hum as I push up onto my feet, dragging him with me by the wrists.

He’s pliant in that perfect way he only ever is with me, a little unsteady but smiling, his eyes dazed and hungry.

I drag his shirt up and over his head, and as he tosses it aside, I run my hands down his chest. He leans into my touch, as if he’s helpless to resist it.

“I think we should do this in bed,” I say softly. “Don’t you think?”

He just nods. As I turn to our bedroom, a tentacle slides lightly along my spine, another teasing over my hip. Sneaky little bastards. I make a pleased sound in the back of my throat and swat lightly at one. It snaps back playfully, flicking against my thigh.

“You’re feeling needy, aren’t you?”

Cal’s voice is low and rough as he follows me through the apartment. “I always feel needy with you, love.”

I turn and guide him round, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, then press gently. He goes down without resistance, sprawled across the sheets like some kind of divine offering. I climb over him and settle between his legs.

My fingers glide over his stomach, over his hip, down to his cock, flushed dark.

He twitches in my hand, a soft sound rumbling out of him as I tease lightly over the head, then down to cup his balls, slow and lazy, letting him feel the weight of my attention.

He flings an arm over his face as if he can’t even bear to watch.

“We take it slow, okay?” I reach for the lube in the top drawer of my nightstand, keeping my touch easy, gentle.“No tentacles yet. Just me.”

He lifts the arm when he hears the snap of the plastic lid, eyes flying open to watch raptly as I slick my fingers, lips parted and chest rising and falling too fast.

I meet his gaze. “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” he says immediately, voice ragged. “Yes, fuck—please.”

I ease my hand down, cupping him again, but sliding lower, slow and steady. I trace the rim of his ass with just the tip of one finger. It’s a feather-light touch, but Cal jolts, a sharp gasp punching out of him.

“So,” I say softly. “Have you thought about that before?”

He hums a questioning sound, but it breaks on the edge of another groan when I circle the tight ring of muscle again, just barely applying pressure.

“If I was like you?” I murmur. “If I had tentacles too?”

His entire body stiffens. And then he moans—long, tortured, desperate. I can’t even tell if it’s because of the idea of me being like him, or because I’m touching him exactly how he wants.

“You have, haven’t you?” My hand flexes on his thigh where I’m holding him open. “Thought about me using them on you? You made fun of me for wanting your tentacock back when we first met—”

“It’s not a tentacle,” he says, almost distantly, an automatic response at this point.

I giggle, leaning down to mouth at his cock where it flexes against his stomach.

His tentacles are all sprawled out across the bed like they’re melting into the sheets.

It’s like they don’t know what the fuck to do in this situation.

I’ve short-circuited him, and I’ve short-circuited all of them too.

I let my finger circle that tight little ring again, but this time I press forward—just the first gentle push, the slow pressure of my slicked fingertip barely breaching him .

Cal’s head tips back, his mouth falling open on a gasp that sticks in his throat so suddenly he almost chokes on it. “Oh. Oh, fuck .”

A tentacle flips up and curls around my wrist, but it doesn’t stop me.

It just holds on, trembling, like it needs to know what’s happening but doesn’t want to be in charge.

My index finger sinks to the first knuckle, slow and careful, and his cock twitches against his belly as a breath punches out of him.

“Jesus, Neviah—”

“You like that?” I mouth at the flushed underside of his shaft, dragging my tongue along the faint, shimmering ridge just under the head. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. Gonna take some work to open you up.”

“I—” His voice breaks on the word. His hips twitch, grinding down against my hand, chasing more. “This is how it feels to go mad, isn’t it? Is this what it’s like when I tease you?”

I huff a hot breath over his cock, then kiss the tip. “If this can double as payback, so much the better.”

The tentacle around my wrist squeezes again, like it’s bracing itself the way he is. It flexes when I press in a little deeper. My fingertip curls just slightly, and Cal lets out a sound that’s halfway between a whimper and a growl.

“I thought about it,” he says finally, voice rough. “After I met you. Thought about what it’d be like if you were like me. If you—” He cuts himself off with a moan as I twist my wrist, slow and deliberate. “If you could fuck me the way I fuck you.”

My entire body bursts into flames.

“Jesus, Cal.” I kiss a sloppy line up his shaft, then flick my tongue against the head, reaping the bead of precum leaking there. “That’s fucking hot. Greedy thing. Filthy mind you’ve got.”

His hand fumbles against the sheets, grabbing for something to ground him, even as he pushes his hips back to ride my hand.

I brush my lips across the thick vein pulsing along his cock, then curl my finger inside him again, pushing it deeper.The groan he gives is high and charred at the edges, but still, he tries to claw back a shred of control.

“You’re soaked, love. I can scent it.” One of his tentacles slides lower, slow and deliberate, teasing along the crease of my thigh before slipping under the waistband of my panties. “You like this that much? Like breaking me apart like this?”

I let out a breathy laugh against his cock, licking the underside just to feel the way he jolts. “Of course I like it. It’s not every day I get to turn my big, scary tentacle man into a trembling wreck.”

His hips buck down against my hand again, so my finger is almost all the way inside, and the tentacle between my legs slides in closer, gliding against my swollen slit with maddening restraint. I can feel the heat of him even through the tease.

“Let me.” His voice is like the sky in a storm, smooth and gray, but ready to crack open. “Let me touch you while you play. Let me fuck you good, little trespasser.”

I hum like I’m considering it. Then I tighten my grip around his cock and give it a slow, deliberate twist—nothing cruel, just enough to make him gasp.

At the same time, I push deeper with my finger, curling just right until he’s fully seated.

He lets out an agonized sound that shoots straight through me like shrapnel.

“ God , Cal,” I murmur. “You’ve got the upper hand.

Or the upper tentacle, really.” I rock my wrist, pressing in harder, slow and firm, watching him squirm.

“All these extra limbs, and you can scent me—every little shift in how I feel. All I’ve got to go on are these pretty little noises you make. So unfair.”

He moans like I’ve wounded him.

“Still okay?” I ask, soft against the curve of his cock, kissing the head before I glance up. I flex the finger inside him, as if to emphasize the question. “Want more?”

“Please, love.” His voice is almost all air. “Whatever you want. Just— yes .”