More of those smooth arms ran over his body, touching him everywhere, delicate in one moment, then stinging and sucking painfully the next, until he was lost in sensation. His feet, his hips, his knees and his neck, his cock and his ribs and everywhere in between. He was assaulted and stroked and tormented. He lived one second to the next, not anticipating, just being. Giving himself over.
Pleasure built up inside him, ready to spill over. “I’m going to come,” he panted. “Please let me come.” He wanted it desperately, but wanted even more to have Geir inside him first.
“No,” Geir ground out harshly. “Not yet.”
And that was what he truly wanted, to have Geir take all of his choices away.
The layers of sensations diminished and the hold around his wrists, thighs, and hips tightened. Declan watched Geir, his eyes flashing with concentration and desire. Geir’s warm, human hands massaged his ass, then his firm fingers dug in, holding him open.
Tentacles writhed around his opening, teasing around his hole, pressing along his crack, circling his balls, and then sliding past another silky appendage doing the same thing.
One silken tip started to probe at his entrance, circling him and easing in just past his rim. He pushed backward, wanting more, and Geir tightened around his arms and legs.
“Please,” he started to beg. “Please, more.”
But Geir didn’t give him more, just went back to the tormenting and teasing right outside his hole. He whimpered and begged, dissatisfied now with the little dips into his hole that were never enough.
Geir kissed his lips, a disarmingly gentle counterpoint to the rough scratches and suction that had just come before. He floated in those kisses, letting Geir take control while giving him back all of his passion.
Finally, the slim tip slid into him again, so different from a toy or human finger. It almost flowed in, undulating and sliding, gently but also with such… inevitability. There was no rough jerking, no sudden stretch from one finger to two, from two to three.
And it didn’t stop. He was being eased open, stuffed full. And there was movement. Not thrusting, but writhing. A slippery massage in this most intimate place.
And Geir kept filling him. He had no metric to compare it too, no idea how much was inside him now. He buried his head against Geir’s neck, panting and sobbing at being stretched so far, helpless as he was filled beyond what he thought he could take.
Then, without warning, Geir simultaneously wrapped tightly around his cock and rubbed hard against his prostate. Lightning shot through him, racing down his limbs. He screamed, his voice echoing across the lake.
Geir kept stroking the little nub, the sensation doubling and building. It was too much, more than he could handle, more than he could even fathom. And yet Geir had locked down tight around his balls, squeezing them painfully and leaving him in that horrible, wonderful state of overwhelming desperation.
Then the impossible tormenting strokes eased, the pressure inside him decreased without pulling out, and he gulped for breath, gasping wetly against Geir’s shoulder.
“You’re mine,” Geir growled. He wrapped one tentacle around Declan’s neck, tilting his head up.
“Yours,” Declan agreed, his vision unfocused and words slurred. “Yours.”
“I’m going to fill you up.” It was said like a threat. A dark promise.
Declan whimpered. He wanted it. Wanted whatever Geir would give him.
The tentacle around his neck slipped into his mouth, pressing his tongue down and puffing out his cheeks. It didn’t quite push back hard enough to choke him, but he reveled in the feeling of being forced open so far that he couldn’t even suck. His lips and tongue were dazzled by the briny slick flavor, the saliva that he couldn’t swallow blending in.
He nodded, as much as he could, and begged with his eyes. Declan knew that Geir was checking for signs of discomfort or a request to stop. But he didn’t want it to stop.
Smooth tentacles looped around his cock, writhing and coiling. No hand or mouth could have pulled at him so expertly, stroking and squeezing everywhere at once in some impossibly complex pattern that had him throbbing.
Geir was everywhere. Filling him, owning him. The rhythm started again in his ass, pulsing and filling him, rubbing his sensitive prostate. The tiny, sharp teeth of hundreds of suckers bit into his skin. Ropey muscles looped and squeezed around his hard cock, milking it into unimaginable bliss. His mouth was stuffed full, and he was helpless, bound, totally permeated with everything that was Geir.
With everything that he ever needed.
“Come,” Geir commanded.
And he did, pleasure wracking his body. It was endless and exquisite, pulsing through his every muscle and into his bones. He was joy and beauty.
He had no beginning or end.
No center or edge.
He was Geir’s.
He was lost.
He was home.
Chapter 6
Geir
Geir stroked a hand down Declan’s cheek, admiring his freckles and the shadow of dark scruff that was so different from his own pale hair.
He’d worried when Declan seemed to pass out, but then remembered a vague scrap of conversation from his half-forgotten past. He’d never seen it, but he’d heard that intense encounters could have this effect. So, once Geir confirmed that Declan was still breathing, he felt a little proud of himself.
Anyway, Declan had snuggled into him as he pulled him out of the water and carried him through the rough woods and back to his home. His pulse was steady and Geir contented himself with that.
Now they were curled up on the couch, with soft blankets around them and Declan’s soft breaths falling against his chest.
It was both beautiful and terrifying. How could one person make him feel all of these things? And why now, after all of these years?
He wrapped Declan tightly in his two tentacles as well as his arms. Just holding him wasn’t enough. He needed to taste him with his skin, that diffused sense of feeling color and flavor that came with his partially shifted body.
Declan tasted like lake and warm flesh, dark under the blankets like a cozy cave, soft and young. The sensations seeped into his limbs with a sense of rightness.
Geir always wondered how much of his feelings came from his own human mind and how much were baser animal instincts. Right now, he wanted to keep Declan close by in his lair, fighting off anyone who came too close.
Declan shifted in his arms and he allowed him just enough space to make himself comfortable and then tightened around him again.
“Hi,” he said brightly.
“Hello.” Geir’s voice came out scratchy and rough. He wasn’t quite sure what else to say.
Fortunately, Declan had enough to say for both of them. “That was amazing.” His voice was still soft and slow. Geir liked hearing him so relaxed like this. “You can do that to me again any time.”
Geir heard himself laughing, just a short chuff that shook his chest. But when was the last time he had laughed? When was the last time he had felt anything?
He stroked over Declan’s chest, feeling the changes in his muscles, the flavor that intensified under his armpits.
“Ooh! Tentacles!” Declan lifted the tip of his tentacle and turned it in one hand, exposing the suction cups on the bottom and the smoother top. Geir let him manipulate it, amused. “I can’t believe how soft it feels! I kind of like the slime. But don’t you get dried out? Like, does the slime all evaporate? Or get all over everything?”