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criticalkink) wrote2017-03-26 01:12 am
“Have you considered,” Taliesin asks, “that maybe you put some sort of request out into the universe and the universe granted it?”
Ivan flexes his right wrist, letting the small tentacle emerge from the Bracelets of Fortune. Initially it’s short and slim, just the color of his skin, dotted with a couple of freckles. When Taliesin gives Ivan an enquiring look and Ivan nods for him to go ahead and touch it, it lengthens, thickens, and darkens even before Taliesin runs a finger along it from base to tip. It shivers under his touch and rubs against his finger.
“What sort of request to the universe gives someone tentacles?” he asks.
Taliesin shrugs. “The sort where you frequently mention them in, oh, a roleplaying game or during an erotic fan fiction reading, and someone notices.”
“So now it’s someone, not the universe at large?” Ivan watches in fascination as the tentacle delicately explores Taliesin’s fingers, twining around them. His ability to feel what they’re feeling is growing, but still not fully developed.
“Well, the universe does need its conduits.” Taliesin wraps his fingers around the tentacle and squeezes lightly, and Ivan bites back a gasp as the sensation shoots straight to his cock—not that he’s not already half hard anyway. Something about being in close proximity to Taliesin, while sitting on Taliesin’s bed, with the intoxicating aroma of a spicy, earthy oil diffusing in a nearby burner.
Taliesin’s giving him a small amused smile, and Ivan lifts his left hand. He’s come to think of this tentacle as having much more of a one-track mind, and maybe Taliesin won’t look so damn smug if he has to deal with that one instead of the well-behaved one.
It bursts out and Taliesin grabs it mid-air as it’s en route to presumably try to wipe the smile off Taliesin’s face.
“No,” he scolds it, and the tentacle droops in his hand. He looks at Ivan. “I guess you need some training.”
“Me, or them?” Ivan can feel the two that flank his cock shivering just under his skin and tries to think about anything other than the myriad mental images that the word training evokes.
“Them. Mostly.” The smile is back as Taliesin lets go of the right wrist tentacle to let it curl back around Ivan’s forearm. “Unless you’re consciously attempting to face-fuck me with one of your wrist tentacles.”
“Not a sentence I’d ever expected to hear.” Ivan looks down at his bare feet, where the right ankle tentacle is attempting to stealthily twine itself around both his and Taliesin’s ankles. Taliesin smacks it with his free hand and the tentacle reacts. “No. I’m not trying to do it on purpose.” He gives Taliesin a helpless look. “I just can’t—this is what I was afraid of, that given the opportunity they’d try to get at someone else.”
Taliesin shrugs again. “That’s what happens when you give them free use of your own body, Ivan. They get used to it.” He pats Ivan’s flaming red cheek. “How long ago did you say this started? A week, before you thought to come to me?”
“...two,” Ivan admits. “I thought of you the first day—”
“—I’m so flattered—”
“—but they didn’t try to do anything to anyone but me, and...” He whimpers as the left wrist tentacle wriggles in Taliesin’s grip and Taliesin gives it a rough squeeze. “Oh...”
“It feels good.” A statement, not a question. “They respect the fact that if you get pushed too far you’ll hurt in a bad way—”
(they both know a great deal about the good ways to hurt)
“—and that’ll make you less likely to let them do anything. But there’s a lot of middle ground between doing nothing at all and hitting that limit.”
“Mmmm.” The right one is reaching for Ivan’s waistband; he reels it back in, holding it in a loose fist.
“How many times did you come, the first time?”
“What?” Despite the inherent intimacy of the situation, it seems like a very personal question.
“I need to know so I can get an idea for how much they think they can get away with.”
“Oh.” Ivan thinks back to that afternoon. “I lost count after four.”
“Nice.” Taliesin lifts the recalcitrant left tentacle to his lips. “Are you going to behave?” he murmurs to it, and the tip nudges against his cheek but doesn’t push any further. “That’s good.”
Ivan bites his lip. “Taliesin... just be careful, okay? I don’t know what they’re capable of. They could hurt you. I don’t have enough control.” He swallows hard. “To be honest, I’m scared.”
“I’m not scared,” Taliesin says.
And then he sucks the flushed tip into his mouth. His eyes half-close and he hums softly around the sensitive appendage, and there is no dampening of the sensation: Ivan feels it wholly and completely. His hips jerk and he has to scramble not to just tip over sideways into Taliesin’s lap.
“Taliesin! What—”
Taliesin withdraws the tentacle from his mouth. His eyes have gone dark; they’re mostly pupil save for a thin ring of deep violet iris, which is fucking weird because that’s not his eye color. “I’m not scared,” he repeats. “And the best way to train these little beasties is by leaping into the deep end.” He lets go of the tentacle and it slithers around to the back of his neck, suckers playing with the curl of hair over his nape. “So come here and let’s go deep.”
His mouth is hot and tastes of the flat, faintly salty, faintly mineral flavor of the tentacle’s secretions. His fingers twine into Ivan’s hair, and his other hand finds Ivan’s right wrist, first gripping it with a hard squeeze that makes Ivan gasp and then sliding the length of the tentacle there, stroking it very purposefully in a jerking-off motion.
“God, Taliesin—” Ivan pants into Taliesin’s mouth. “Are you sure?”
“Strip,” Taliesin says, pushing him away.
Ivan doesn’t even stop to think about it, disentangling the left tentacle from Taliesin’s hair so that he can tug off his t-shirt and shed his sweats. He hooks his thumbs into his underwear and looks at Taliesin.
“Everything.”
So the underwear goes as well, and fuck knows he shouldn’t feel embarrassed about a little nudity considering he’s already had to explain that he has tentacles and he’s been fucked senseless by them, but there’s something about the way Taliesin’s gaze rakes over him, lingering on his cock and the twin rippling bulges under the skin either side of it that makes him feel like his entire catalogue of sexual dreams and desires is written across his blushing skin.
“Just relax,” Taliesin says. “I told you, I’m not scared.” His tone holds a challenge that stirs what’s under Ivan’s skin. “You can show me. Lie down, if it’s easier.”
“Do you have any towels?” Ivan feels his face and chest turning redder still. “They—it gets messy.”
Taliesin gets up, standing and stretching in a way that Ivan is positive is meant to make his t-shirt ride up and show skin, show the waistband of his underwear just above the waistband of his jeans. “Sure.” He unfolds two large towels and shakes them out to cover the bed. “How messy? Wet? Drippy?”
“Ah—”
“I just need to know so I can understand how entrenched they are.” He tickles the one protruding from Ivan’s right wrist and it vibrates softly. “This one’s a good one. Aren’t you?”
“I had to do a lot of washing after the first time,” Ivan says, stretching out on the bed on his back. The ankle tentacles both slide out, spiraling around his legs up to mid-thigh before stopping, but the ones either side of his cock don’t emerge yet, though he can feel the now familiar tension that says they want to.
Taliesin watches as the tentacle at Ivan’s right wrist flattens out across his chest, just looking at him as the suckers go to work on his nipples, and his intense gaze is as strong a sensation as the little pulling and tugging sensations across Ivan’s chest.
“Is it good?” he asks softly.
“Oh... yeah.” Ivan can feel the right tentacle twitching madly and keeps his eyes locked with Taliesin’s as he lifts his hand so it can go where it wants to, curling right around his neck and squeezing before the tip delves between his lips. It’s Taliesin’s turn to gasp as Ivan continues his demonstration, and the tension in Ivan’s groin is almost unbearable.
But they’re still hidden away.
Taliesin puts a hand on his thigh and Ivan whimpers around his mouthful. “I think they want to see what it is you’re thinking about,” he says. “And you’re thinking about me. You’re thinking about me and what they might do to me and whether I’ll really be able to control them.” He pulls his t-shirt off, folding it and putting it on a stack of clean laundry on a chair. Ivan’s hips jerk but the damn main tentacles still don’t make an appearance, though the ones wound around his legs are shivering. “Not enough? Shall I continue?”
Ivan pulls the one in his mouth back out. “Taliesin. Don’t make them mad. Don’t... don’t tease them.”
Taliesin ignores him, stripping his pants off slowly, folding them and setting them down neatly with his t-shirt.
“Is there anything else you think you ought to tell me?” he asks gently, eyes roaming Ivan’s body again. “What are you afraid they’ll do to me?” He takes a step closer to the bed, and the bulge in his underwear is thick and solid.
Ivan wets his lips. “Hurt you,” he manages.
“Did they hurt you, Ivan? Or did they just fill you up everywhere and make you come until you couldn’t any more?” Taliesin palms the front of his underwear. “Until you were exhausted and covered in come and slick?” His eyes are almost entirely black now and Ivan doesn’t think it’s about pupil dilation any more. “Did you wish you could keep going even after they stopped?”
“I don’t believe you’re just collecting data any more,” Ivan says, breath catching in his throat as the right wrist tentacle squeezes his neck.
Taliesin raises an eyebrow. “Do you believe I ever was?” He eases his underwear off over his cock; he’s rock hard, tip wet, and Ivan lets out an involuntary moan just at the sight. “Would it be easier to believe I was just trying to get you all worked up so they’d do their worst?”
“Ah, hell,” Ivan says with feeling, as the thick tentacles finally, finally unfurl from their hiding place beneath the skin between his thighs and snake out towards Taliesin, who doesn’t shy away but instead steps closer to the bed and catches them, squeezing just below the tips, which have gone bulbous and dark. “Taliesin—”
“Spread.”
Ivan’s thighs jerk apart and Taliesin swiftly kneels between them, sitting back on his heels, still holding both the thick tentacles.
“I see you at least can follow orders,” he says. “Now we just have to teach these new friends of yours to be as obedient.” He gathers the two of them into one hand and strokes them with the other, not a firm stroke, more like petting a wild animal. “I get the feeling it’s not really me you’re afraid of them hurting.”
Ivan swallows and then nods.
“And it’s not yourself.”
“No.”
“Do you want to tell me who?”
“Not really.” Ivan sighs. “They’re an adult, at least, and they could theoretically consent, assuming they didn’t just run the other way screaming.”
“Oh? So is it someone you don’t think would enjoy being smeared with contact aphrodisiac and put through a series of intense orgasms?”
“That part they’d be fine with. It’s the additional appendages that’s the problem.”
“If it’s someone who’s had the pleasure of your hands and your mouth and this—” Taliesin gives his cock a light squeeze and Ivan gasps; the tentacle at his throat slips back between his lips “—I’m sure they’d adjust to the fact that you now have six more ways to touch them.” He lifts the two thick tentacles to his lips and sucks first one then the other rounded end into his mouth, alternating between them until Ivan’s whimpering and writhing. “Of course, if you really just want them gone again, I imagine whatever force put them there in the first place could remove them again.” He takes both of them into his mouth at once, tongue wriggling between them. “It would be a shame if that happened before you got the chance to try them out with a partner, though.”
Ivan reaches out to him, wrist tentacles still busily working on his chest and mouth, but his hands able to grip Taliesin’s biceps, pulling him down until their bodies align. His ankle tentacles unwind from his own legs to slide over Taliesin’s calves and thighs, and Taliesin wriggles against him, settling with his cock pressing along the crease between Ivan’s thigh and groin.
The tentacle slips free of his mouth to caress Taliesin’s cheek. Taliesin leans into the touch and then his lips are on Ivan’s, kissing him again as the tentacle that was suckling at Ivan’s nipples twists between them to do the same thing to Taliesin’s chest. Taliesin sighs against Ivan’s mouth.
“Oh, that’s nice. It’s been a while.”
“How is this not driving you crazy?” Ivan demands.
Taliesin smiles down at him. “Centuries of self-control, darling.” He rolls his hips to dig his cock against Ivan’s skin. “But if you’d like we can skip ahead a little; I’m sure you’ve noticed their effect on recovery time.”
“What exactly are you trying to achieve here?”
“Well, I’m going to teach them how to play nicely with other people, and I’m also going to help them fuck you until you’re an incoherent mess.” Taliesin licks the tentacles that his hand is fisted around again; Ivan watches the fringed one’s little fingers flutter against Taliesin’s tongue. “After all, it’s easier to train them if I can get a sense for exactly what they do.”
And with that he lets go.
Ivan doesn’t know what the second tentacle does, but the fringed one wriggles right in to start working him open. Judging from the noises that Taliesin starts making, the other one’s working on him. One of the ankle tentacles twines around their legs, binding them together; the other one snakes in between them and loops a figure of eight around their cocks. Taliesin starts kissing him again as the small one around his neck squeezes tighter, until Ivan doesn’t know if he’s breathless from the kissing or the pressure.
“Mmmm. That really is very nice,” Taliesin says with far more composure than a man with anything in his ass should be able to manage.
Ivan just whimpers, writhing under him; he can feel his cock sliding against Taliesin’s thigh now and it’s far more slippery than just pre-come can possibly account for. That said, he’s awfully close already and there’s a lot dripping from the head of his cock.
“No,” Taliesin says, and the fringed tentacle withdraws from Ivan. “I get him first.”
“I’m right here.” Ivan gives him a sulky look.
“They need to know when they’re being given orders.” Taliesin pulls back up onto his knees with surprising ease considering the amount of undulating flesh surrounding him. “And so do you. Lift your ass.”
Ivan lifts his ass. Taliesin pushes a pillow under his lower back. As he does so the fringed tentacle wraps around his cock, but instead of teasing or tickling it just holds him. Taliesin presses a finger, then two, into Ivan’s dripping heat.
“They certainly know what they’re doing when it comes to this,” he comments, looking Ivan right in the eye as he slowly fingers him. “Is it always just one?”
“N-no. Sometimes two.” He’s not going to get into the part about how even more rarely it’s his cock. “One to pl—ah! Yes, like that—” Taliesin’s fingers are curling just right “—and the other to, to—”
“To fuck,” Taliesin supplies, fingers slipping out of Ivan. The fringed tentacle immediately tugs him forward, and Ivan feels its small delicate touches rippling around his rim as it busily lines Taliesin’s cock up.
“Yes, fuck, please—” Ivan closes his eyes as Taliesin pushes into him. Over the last two weeks he’s been fucked several different ways with only himself for company, and as incredible as the tentacles admittedly feel they’re just not the same as the touch of another human being. Or immortal fae lord. Whatever.
Taliesin moans softly as they’re joined, and leans down to kiss Ivan again. The taste of the slick is stronger this time and Ivan realizes it’s because that very first tentacle, the small one from his right wrist, has wriggled between their mouths and is stroking their tongues, tiny pulses shooting slick straight into them.
“Is the aphrodisiac stronger if ingested?” Ivan asks.
“Do you care?”
Ivan hitches his legs further apart, draws his knees up higher, and lets the ankle tentacles divide; they continue to stroke Taliesin’s thighs and ass, but they also extend up the bed to help support Ivan’s wantonly spread thighs.
“Good answer,” Taliesin says, and then, “oh, wow,” which is mild considering that Ivan’s pretty sure that the fringed tentacle has just started rimming him.
Then he starts actually moving, taking Ivan with slow, deep strokes, and Ivan stops being sure of anything except that he doesn’t want this to end.
The first time Ivan comes is fast and helpless, and the little tentacle stops playing over his and Taliesin’s lips and dives down between their bodies; there’s an obscene wet sound as the suckers play over their skin.
“One,” Taliesin says.
All Ivan can manage in response is a whimper, which makes him wonder just how much of a mindless mess he’s going to be if he makes it to—was it only four? He’s genuinely forgotten—whatever heights he gets pushed to, anyway.
Taliesin straightens up, pulling Ivan harder against him, and the right tentacle comes back, looping around Ivan’s neck again, wet with his come. It smears across his lips; when Ivan opens his mouth and starts sucking on it, he hears Taliesin groan appreciatively. It writhes against his tongue and pushes deeper in. Ivan chokes a little and suddenly Taliesin’s holding his left hand.
“Tap your fingers against my hand if you need this to stop. Big squeeze if you can keep going.”
Ivan squeezes as hard as he can, and Taliesin’s other hand wraps around his cock, and surely no more than a minute has passed but he’s coming again, cries muffled by the thickening tentacle in his mouth, wailing and wriggling as Taliesin relentlessly strokes him through it until he’s right on the edge of it being too much.
“Two. Bet I can get you off one more time before I come.” Taliesin lifts his hand to his mouth and licks Ivan’s come off it carelessly, and Ivan can only nod in agreement. “Enjoying that mouthful? Can you take more?” The tentacle in Ivan’s mouth presses deeper until Ivan can feel it slip into his throat, and Taliesin lets out another satisfied groan, his pace quickening. “Gods, that’s beautiful.” He gives Ivan a sly grin. “There’s always the possibility that you’ll just come out of this as a well-trained fucktoy.”
Ivan just glares at him and untangles their fingers long enough to flip him the bird.
“Oh, behave,” Taliesin says with a gasp. Ivan’s not sure if Taliesin means him or the fringed tentacle, which has moved to curl around Taliesin’s sac by the feel of it, little fronds toying both with his balls and Ivan’s rim, dipping in alongside Taliesin’s cock. Ivan whimpers and arches his hips, and Taliesin pulls free the tentacle exploring his chest to put it back on Ivan’s. It feels different when it sucks this time and Ivan feels his nipples grow rounder and plumper, which for some reason makes him blush harder.
“Mmmm,” he manages around the writhing appendage in his mouth.
“Oh, yeah.” Taliesin squeezes one hard nipple and the sensation ripples through Ivan’s body. “Have they tried pumping anything else yet?”
Have they? Ivan’s not sure if that’s what they did to his cock, or something else. He shrugs and tries to look as enigmatic as possible for a man being slowly face-fucked by a tentacle.
“All right, keep your—oh, hello,” Taliesin says as the fringed tentacle tires of teasing and pushes into Ivan alongside Taliesin’s cock. “Oh. Fuck.”
The fringes stroke firmly over Ivan’s prostate and Taliesin’s hand finds his cock and it’s all stars after that.
Everything withdraws after that. Almost everything. Ivan’s still half hard, but without the sense of urgent need. Taliesin’s in a similar state as he lies down beside Ivan, pulling him close and spooning around him.
“Three,” he says. “Is it just those six tentacles?” He starts caressing Ivan’s chest, giving light squeezes to his nipples, and Ivan moans.
“Oh God... so far, yes. Why? Should I be expecting more?”
“Possibly.” Taliesin’s mouth closes over Ivan’s shoulder and bites down. Ivan feels the stirring under his skin, but they seem to be curious as to what a person who only (although it’s a big only) has a mouth and hands and a cock to offer. At any rate they don’t re-emerge yet.
“L-like what?”
“Hmmmm... you’d better tell me what’s happened so far.” Taliesin sucks a mark into his shoulder. “So I don’t tell you anything you already know.”
“You just want all the dirty details.”
“Yes,” Taliesin says simply. “I want to know everything you’ll tell me. The more information I have, the more help I can give you.”
“Help with training them?” Ivan presses his ass back against Taliesin’s semi-hard cock. “Or do you just want to help yourself to my writhing, needy body?”
“You talk like that and you wonder how come you got the attention of someone who thought perhaps you needed a lesson in just how needy a body can be.” Taliesin laughs softly. “Did they have you suck yourself? I know some of them like to manipulate their host bodies that way.”
“Yeah.” Ivan can feel even his ears turning red, which is ridiculous because Taliesin’s already helped facilitate three orgasms, drunk one of them down himself, and yet there’s something so difficult about putting the activities into plain words.
“Mmmm... did you make yourself come, Ivan? Are you good with your mouth?”
Ivan whimpers, which Taliesin takes as the yes that it is.
“I would love to find out for myself,” he murmurs. “Did you swallow, or did you come on yourself?”
Ivan reaches down to give his cock a squeeze at the base. He can feel the quivering under his skin. “Swallowed,” he admits. “Shot right down my own fucking throat.”
“How did it feel?”
“Too good,” Ivan whispers.
“Mmmm. I can imagine.” Taliesin pushes him over onto his belly, pinning his hands at his sides. His cock nudges along Ivan’s slick cleft and Ivan belatedly realizes there’s still come trickling out of him from the first time as Taliesin pushes into him again, hips lazily rising and falling. “Although I’m fully prepared to watch them work on you, just to compare their abilities to mine.”
“You’re so good.”
They’re the last words Ivan manages as Taliesin lets go of one of his wrists and folds his forearm across Ivan’s throat. It’s not the same as the careful squeeze and release; it’s altogether more primal and forceful and Ivan gasps, struggling in Taliesin’s grip.
“You’re all right, gorgeous. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Taliesin starts kissing the back of his neck and shoulder before turning it into bites. Ivan manages to draw in a breath and lets it out in a keening moan. Taliesin lets go of his other wrist and grasps his hip, holding him steady to fuck him harder and faster. “Fuck you feel good... makes me wish I had what you have, to fill you up even more.”
Ivan starts heaving sobbing breaths before Taliesin’s arm tightens again. One of them sounds like, “Please!”
He’s usually the dominant partner in so many senses, and his time alone with his new appendages felt like an extension of that.
(He is absolutely lying to himself.)
This doesn’t. This just feels like being dominated, more than topped, used, and it scares him how easy it is to give up all control to Taliesin. He still has his hands free, for God’s sake, but all they’re doing is clawing at the towels (which are exceedingly damp at this point), not trying to pull Taliesin’s arm off his throat or make any motion of protest.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s good,” Taliesin pants. “You going to come for me? Or do you need to be touched?”
Ivan does not need to be touched. All Ivan really needs to do is stop overanalyzing the situation and just let go. Let himself sink into the haze that oxygen deprivation offers, and let the deep pleasure of Taliesin taking him tip him over that edge.
But thinking is so persistent and so hard to switch off.
He whines and starts rutting against the towels with intent instead of just letting the movements of Taliesin’s body do it for him, and that gets him closer, but he still feels wrung out from having come three times already.
“After this I’m going to let them have me,” Taliesin says.
That does it. Ivan shudders and comes, feeling the spreading stickiness underneath him, and then the matching sensation of Taliesin spurting into him, making his last few thrusts obscenely wet.
Neither of them have time to rest, though, because Ivan’s new friends have heard Taliesin’s promise, and they intend to collect.
Taliesin rolls onto his back, spreading his legs, and Ivan’s struck by the thought of how he himself must look when giving in to the tentacles. Taliesin is tense, but he’s smiling; while his body is waiting to see what exactly Ivan does, he’s clearly mentally prepared for it.
Ivan kneels between Taliesin’s knees. The tentacles are twitching at his wrists and ankles and groin, but not yet making a move.
“Come on,” Taliesin invites. “Show me what you can do. Show me what you did to him.” His smile widens. “Unless you’re afraid?”
“They’re not afraid,” Ivan says. He doesn’t know why; it’s just the sense that he’s getting. “They know you understand them and what they do.”
It’s difficult to talk; he’s absolutely covered in slick at this point, his cock is half-hard (as it seems to remain during his tentacle sessions when he’s not fully erect and striving to come), and to be honest if the tentacles don’t get on with it he’s going to fuck Taliesin himself.
“They’re welcome to me,” Taliesin says, cupping his balls and lifting, putting his thickening cock on display but also offering better access to his ass.
This gets the tentacles’ attention. The one at Ivan’s right wrist stays with him, extending across his chest and beginning to suckle at his still enlarged, sensitive nipples. The one from his right wrist arcs through the air and curves down to rub against Taliesin’s parted lips. Taliesin’s tongue comes out, lapping slick off the tip before sucking it into his mouth. His eyes half-close with pleasure, and Ivan’s reminded of the look that some of his friends get when they take their first drink at the end of a long day, or the first drag on a joint: getting that first hit of something they’ve been looking forward to.
The tentacles at his ankles tug at his legs, and Ivan moves closer still to Taliesin. It takes him a moment to figure out what they want but when he gets it he sits between Taliesin’s thighs and puts his legs over them. The tentacles promptly extend and wrap around Taliesin’s upper body, the end of one wreathing around his neck like a loosely draped scarf, the other latching onto his nipples. Taliesin groans contentedly and strokes them both; Ivan feels it as though Taliesin’s fondling his chest or thighs and whimpers.
“So you’ve done this before,” Ivan says, reaching down to stroke the fringed tentacle. It nudges against his hand in return before slithering along Taliesin’s inner thigh.
“Mmmm.” Taliesin’s still got the tentacle in his mouth, but it slips back out to let him speak. “I have.”
“Who with?”
“Nobody you know. People who had the same mindset as you, who weren’t afraid to tap into cosmic horror and eldritch existence.” He moans as the tentacle across his chest ripples.
“You’ve missed it.”
“You’ve experienced it. There’s a lot of interesting sexual encounters out there to be had.” He has to pause for a second as the tentacle around his neck tightens what looks like a nigh-unbearable amount before releasing. “There are even a lot of ways to get covered in goop and fucked in multiple orifices. But this is incomparable.”
Ivan wraps his hand around the second of the tentacles that protrudes from next to his cock. At the moment they’re about the same size and so he starts jerking it the way he would his cock. It’s slicker, and the suckers along the underside cling to his hand, but otherwise it feels a lot like just trying to get himself off.
The fringed tentacle, meanwhile, is exploring Taliesin’s cock. Ivan watches both Taliesin’s cock and the tentacle harden further, and the small wriggling extensions nuzzle the tip of Taliesin’s cock. Ivan knows the moment that one slips into his urethra because Taliesin makes a strangled noise. Ivan looks back at Taliesin’s face and sees that the tentacle has pushed back into his mouth, distending his lips and cheeks.
It looks uncomfortable from the outside, but Ivan can also see the way Taliesin’s rubbing up against the one suckling at his nipples, and the way he’s avidly sucking at the tentacle in his mouth, and the beading of precome around the fine tentacle pressing into his cock.
The tentacle he’s jerking off elongates suddenly, and five rounded bulges emerge along the end. Ivan hastily tucks the cushion under Taliesin’s ass so he can see better as the fleshy thick anal beads press against and into Taliesin, squeezing through his stretched rim one by one with a series of wet sounds. Taliesin jerks and gasps with each one.
“Oh yeah,” Ivan murmurs. “Scratching that itch?” He reaches in to press a hand against Taliesin’s stomach. “That’s one... two... I hope you can take five... three...”
Taliesin’s clearly clenching around the organic “toy”, but it keeps pushing; he groans, muffled, as the fourth bulge presses inside him.
“One more, Taliesin...” Ivan rubs his stomach. He can feel the head bulb stirring below Taliesin’s skin. “Unless it decides to make some more, of course.”
“Fuuuu—” Taliesin manages, and then an ecstatic moan as the fifth orb pops through into him and the tentacle begins thrusting.
If Taliesin weren’t already incoherent thanks to his full mouth—and throat, Ivan realizes, seeing the way that it flexes from within—this would make him utterly incomprehensible.
Ivan shuffles backwards slowly until he can bend at the waist, lowering his head to press his lips to the tip of Taliesin’s cock. Taliesin lets out a garbled sound of appreciation, and the fringed tentacle extends its smaller parts to wrap around Ivan’s head. It cages him neatly from scalp to the base of his throat before three of the little tentacles wriggle into his mouth, fussing and tugging and stretching until they’ve made it acceptably open. Then the cage pulls him down until Taliesin’s cock is pressed snugly into his mouth. One of the tentacles strokes his cheek as Ivan gags and splutters for a moment before his mouth and throat accommodate the welcome intrusion.
He can feel the thick tentacle not so far below his chin as it thrusts into Taliesin, and the wet sounds as it does so are very clear.
His left wrist tentacle splits abruptly. It’s the first time he’s felt any kind of pain from them; he yelps but the sound is swallowed as Taliesin’s hips jerk, driving his cock deeper into Ivan’s mouth.
But then the pain is gone. Two of the new little tendrils close over Ivan’s nipples and start sucking with the clear intent of pumping them larger. A third widens at the end; he feels but cannot see the sheath that it forms around his cock, but the gentle yet persistent suction it applies makes him feel his cock thickening and lengthening somewhat, and not in the unnatural way it has done before.
The fourth tendril thrusts between his thighs, flattens out along his cleft, and—
Ivan wails as it starts sucking like the other three. He can feel his perineum and rim plumping out in a way they shouldn’t be able to without the risk of some physical damage, but it’s so careful and knowing as it does it that Ivan makes no protest. It’s not as intense as the ones on his nipples and cock; it seems to be playing with him, just seeing what it can do, rather than expressly trying to make anything bigger and more sensitive.
God, he needs something in him. But he’s got this single tentacle for now; the other five are intent on taking Taliesin apart. Or at least he assumes they are, considering the way that Taliesin’s writhing and thrusting into his mouth.
Suddenly Ivan’s got a throat and mouth full of come and slick. He chokes, swallows frantically around Taliesin’s twitching cockhead, and feels some of the fluid dribble out of his mouth. A tendril scoops the mess, pushes it back into his mouth, and Ivan swallows again. There’s a powerful sweetness to it; maybe the tentacle secretion’s flavor has changed.
One isn’t enough for the entity within him, if that is what it is, because the cage stays in place. Taliesin whines with overstimulation and tries to pull out of Ivan’s mouth, but the fringed tentacle locks them together. The bulbed one inside Taliesin is evidently working his prostate because he starts getting hard again, and Ivan can’t help but laugh. He’s been known to milk someone this way before, until they even begged that he stop rather than pull another orgasm out of their exhausted body, but it’s generally with his fingers or a toy, not an eldritch reshapable tentacle.
Taliesin’s making frantic noises now, his body shuddering under the insistent attention of the tentacles. Ivan wishes he could lift his head to look and it seems the tentacle holding his head down agrees; the fleshy cage unravels and Ivan gazes his fill at Taliesin.
Taliesin’s face, neck, and chest are flushed red. The tentacle working his chest obligingly lifts up so that Ivan can see how full and hard Taliesin’s nipples are before beginning to suckle at them again. The one on Ivan’s own chest squeezes rhythmically in time and Ivan moans.
Taliesin’s eyes are only half open, pleasure suffusing him so much so that he can’t keep his eyes open. The tentacle in his mouth is pulsating, and Taliesin’s suckling on it as though it’s a long piece of candy, albeit a long piece of candy that’s lazily fucking his throat. He’s either trained away his gag reflex or, at some point over his long life, has just decided that it’s not necessary and dispensed with it.
The one around Taliesin’s neck is still looped there like a scarf, not doing much in particular except ruffling his hair occasionally.
Lazy, Ivan thinks at it, and it recoils, then retracts hastily to his ankle.
Taliesin opens his eyes still the way and the tentacle pulls out of his mouth, spurting slick over his lips and cheek just for good measure. “Wha’?”
“It wasn’t doing anything,” Ivan says.
“It made a rather nice collar,” Taliesin says. “I was enjoying it.” He sounds slightly put out, mostly too turned on to be mad.
Ivan’s about to ask it to go back where it was when it lashes out from his ankle, unexpectedly far firmer and thicker than usual. Ivan’s body is lifted and turned until he’s face down, stretched out, the small four way split tentacle caught under his body but continuing to suck him everywhere without stopping. His mouth is over Taliesin’s cock again and the cage weaves back around his head, prying his already shock-parted lips further apart so that Taliesin’s cock can push back into his mouth. The thick tentacle binds his legs from ankle to knee, and then the tip balls up and flattens into a circle.
“Oh, now that’s a very good rimming,” Taliesin says admiringly, before groaning as the bulbed tentacle inside him starts thrusting harder, as though put out that he’s capable of coherence.
Ivan can’t pass any comment, being very effectively gagged by Taliesin’s cock. Then the little tendrils in his mouth go rigid, like a spider gag, and Ivan can’t think why—until the rounded end of the tentacle binding his legs smacks sharply against his ass.
“Ah!” He can barely cry out; he certainly can’t bite down.
“God you’re beautiful,” he hears Taliesin say, and Ivan is not sure whether Taliesin means him or the tentacles.
The fact that the flesh paddle begins rhythmically spanking him doesn’t clarify anything.
He hears Taliesin laugh with delight, and then a long moan that grows more muffled as the tentacle presumably pushes back into his mouth.
Then it’s all the ecstasy of being sucked and rimmed and pumped all at once, contrasting with the slapping sting of the paddle falling on his ass and thighs, and it’s all so much, so overwhelming, that all Ivan can do is squirm and writhe and try to remember to breathe.
He’s so close to coming that it nearly hurts, and he can’t understand why they won’t just push him over the edge; it’s practically guaranteed that he’ll just get hard again right away. He’s almost delirious with it, and only the fact that Taliesin’s muffled cries are getting more and more urgent and needy keeps him from trying to will the tentacles to focus their full attention on him.
The first pulse of Taliesin’s climax is but a small ripple, a little rivulet of seed spilling into Ivan’s mouth. Then another, stronger. Another. Another. Taliesin starts screaming in wild ecstasy. Another, and Ivan’s struggling to keep up now, that patient little tendril waiting under his chin to scoop up anything that he drools out and push it back into his mouth. He’s no longer sure how he’s breathing or even if he’s breathing; none of that matters in the face of taking in every squirt and drip and drop. Especially because the tentacle spanking him has stopped except for when any of the combined come and slick runs out of his mouth.
If he lets some of it trickle out on purpose just to feel one of those stinging slaps to go with the rest of the sensation pervading his body, then that’s his business.
(Oh, gods. That is perhaps the most mysterious part of this; being a Dom, a top, a giver not a receiver, is ingrained in him so deeply, and yet from day one with these new appendages he’s been so ready to just roll over and let them use him.)
Taliesin keeps coming for what has to be about three or four minutes. Not that Ivan’s counting. Ivan is doing what he has been put there to do, which is to suck and swallow and be smacked if he fails at either.
The tentacle inside Taliesin is moving mercilessly, Ivan can feel that much. Whether it’s developed any further bulges or bumps to add further stimulation he doesn’t know but deeply wishes that he did. The side of his head is close enough to Taliesin’s stomach that he can feel the head of the tentacle moving under the skin. Taliesin’s cries are getting hoarser, more desperate if that’s possible, but he’s not giving any indication that he wants it to stop.
At last the spurts taper off to small dribbles and then nothing at all. Taliesin’s gasping grows louder as the tentacle withdraws from his mouth; Ivan feels it retract into his body. The others follow suit one by one, including the one that’s been working on him instead of Taliesin.
He crawls up to lie beside Taliesin, whose arms wrap around him, clinging tight. Taliesin’s whispering something; Ivan eventually makes out the words, “Thank you, oh, thank you.”
Ivan’s throat is aching in a strange way, an oddly nice way. His nipples stand out from his chest and when Taliesin pulls him close they rub against Taliesin’s skin in a way that makes Ivan whimper. And his cock, fuck, he feels like he should come with a single touch but although he’s hard and pumped thicker and longer, even deliberately rubbing against Taliesin’s thigh does nothing.
“Taliesin.” He sounds wrecked. Not as much as Taliesin does, though. “Taliesin, I can’t come.”
“No,” Taliesin murmurs dreamily. “They can stop it at the source.” He nuzzles against Ivan’s neck. “My gods, that was perfect.”
Ivan quits wondering about the at the source comment and simply claims Taliesin’s mouth in a kiss that’s sweet in both taste and intent. He strokes Taliesin’s hair, scritches his scalp, and holds him close. He certainly doesn’t forget how desperately aroused he is, but the heat of this afterglow is irresistibly warm. After all, it’s not every day he gets to hold a fucked-out Taliesin in his arms and share soft kisses.
After a delightful long while of simply cuddling, Taliesin’s hands start moving on Ivan, stroking his bare back and arms and thighs as much as he can reach. Ivan expects the tentacles to come out at the attention, but they don’t so much as stir.
“Taliesin...” He’s aware of the edge of desperation in his voice. “They’re not doing anything.”
“I know, sweetheart,” Taliesin murmurs. “They have a lesson for you.”
“What?”
“There’s something they want you to learn.”
“I get that, but what is it?”
Taliesin kisses him, long and soft. “I don’t know exactly,” he says. “It’s usually something to do with inhibitions.”
Ivan pulls back and gestures at his body, slick drying all over him, still thick where the tentacles emerge from his body—when they’re not being frustratingly quiet. Flushed all over with arousal. Debauched would be a good word. “Does this look inhibited?”
Taliesin very deliberately sweeps his gaze over Ivan, taking advantage of the space between them to touch Ivan’s front, thumbing the hard peaks of his nipples, caressing his sides and stomach, before finally closing his hand around Ivan’s leaking cock. “Outside appearances aren’t the same as inner hangups,” he says, beginning to stroke Ivan with long, slick glides of his hand that should tip Ivan over. But he feels a squeezing sensation low in his body and he can’t, he still can’t—they’re not letting him—
“You have to let yourself,” Taliesin says, as though he’s uncovered the answer to a mystery. “You don’t usually bottom, do you? And you’re never a sub.”
“No.”
“You don’t like relinquishing control at all. You need to be in charge.”
“Yes,” Ivan admits, and there’s a minute release of pressure inside him; his cock twitches in Taliesin’s hand and for a blissful moment he thinks it’s going to happen.
But then he’s locked down again, like an ill-timed cramp, and he groans.
“It’s all right to need, love.” Taliesin lets go of him and sits up, fluffing the pillows and reclining against them. His cock is hard again, gleaming with slick, and Ivan starts to understand. “It’s all right to need and want and to be taken.” He gives Ivan a slow smile. “And, you know, you can still do it when you’re physically on top.”
Ivan doesn’t need any more telling. He moves to straddle Taliesin’s lap, and Taliesin’s arms go around him as he sinks down onto Taliesin’s cock. The head slips into him easily through his well-sucked rim, and Ivan lets out an undignified squeal at the way that Taliesin’s length feels moving into his heat.
“That’s very good, love,” Taliesin praises him. “It’s all right to want and need and be desperate.” His hands move down to Ivan’s hips, pulling him firmly down, and he lets out a groan. “Oh, that’s lovely... they must like being in you, you’re so hot...” He rolls his hips and Ivan gasps. “I bet it feels good when they take you, doesn’t it? Much easier to give in when you have some semblance of control still.” He lets go of Ivan’s hip for a moment to guide Ivan’s hands to his own chest. “Play with yourself,” he invites. “Let me see how beautiful you are when you’re taking it.” His hand settles back on Ivan’s hip as Ivan starts somewhat self-consciously playing with his nipples. They feel so good to tug on and squeeze, and he grinds down against Taliesin without thinking.
Taliesin lets out a low moan. “Ah, yeah, that’s it, Ivan, now you’re getting it. Maybe we’ll work you up to the point where I can have you on your hands and knees, pin you down so you don’t even have this pretense of being in charge—”
“Fuck, Taliesin—”
“Keep touching yourself. I love how much it makes you need my cock.”
“I do, I need it so much—” Ivan vaguely can’t believe he’s saying it, but he does, he needs that thickness inside him, needs to ride it, wants to—
“Will you come in me?” he whispers, pressing his forehead to Taliesin’s as he lets one hand slip down to his own cock and, despite the fact that he still feels like his cock is—is gagged, only the slightest of muffled pleasure getting through, he can’t not try. “Please. I want to feel it.”
Taliesin laughs softly. “Not content with just your lovely tentacles?”
“No. No. Need you.”
Taliesin’s lips brush against the corner of his mouth, making him shiver. “Soon,” he breathes. “You know very well there’s more to this than just coming.”
Ivan whines, but wraps his arms around Taliesin’s neck and starts rocking on his lap, still hesitant at first, but with growing intent, and need, and greed.
“I’m a little surprised,” Taliesin says, breath beginning to quicken. “You’re so good with your mouth, I wouldn’t have imagined you to be so... exclusive about topping when you took so beautifully to being face-fucked.”
By way of explanation, Ivan softly bites Taliesin’s lower lip. “There’s still control in it.”
“Not when—oh gods— your head’s wrapped in tentacles and you’re being held down.” Taliesin’s hands cradle the back of Ivan’s head, fingers spread, as though he needs a reminder.
“Wanted to.”
“And the spanking?”
Ivan is silent, save for the whimpering as Taliesin thrusts through his tender ring, movements growing jerkier.
“They learn. They understand. And they teach you things about yourself that you never knew.” Taliesin kisses him, harder this time, teeth scraping Ivan’s lip before nipping down his neck and digging into his shoulder.
“You did fuck me earlier,” Ivan reminds him.
“You were out of your mind with arousal. I could’ve put anything in you.” Taliesin pulls his hair, tugging his head back so their eyes meet. “Admittedly you might not exactly be a hundred percent with it right now either, but you’re a lot closer to asking without being under the influence.”
Ivan lifts abruptly off Taliesin altogether.
“Wh—”
“Do you have cuffs? Or rope?”
“Now?” Taliesin’s incredulity is at least sixty percent fake. Nonetheless, he gets up off the bed.
Ivan takes up his new position. Kneeling like a supplicant, half-prostrating himself, hands reaching up to grip the headboard. He can feel cool air against his ass and can imagine his slick stretched probably red by now rim, an inviting entrance to the praised hot tight channel. His nipples brush against the rough towels; his cock is pressed between his thighs and stomach, and oh, it feels delightful to be so positioned, presenting himself to be taken.
Especially when Taliesin’s reaction on turning back from his toybox is an appreciative moan before hastening to cuff Ivan’s wrists.
He’s got something else, too.
“Please,” Ivan whispers at the sight of the spreader bar. “Please, yes.”
Taliesin kneels behind him to lock him into it, padded cuffs at each ankle splaying him a little wider open.
Then... nothing.
“Taliesin.”
“You have to ask me for it.” Taliesin rubs along his wet cleft and Ivan whimpers.
“Please, I want you.”
“I’m right here. Be more specific.”
“Taliesin. Please take me. I—” Ivan feels unexpected tears on his cheeks. “I need you in me, I need you to—to use me, I—”
He feels a ripple of pleasure through his entire midsection.
“You’ve pleased them,” Taliesin observes, cockhead pressed against the somewhat plumped out circle of Ivan’s rim.
“Fuck them! It’s you I want to please, Taliesin, love, please, I need you in me, want you, want to feel you come—”
Taliesin pushes excruciatingly slowly into him. “Even if I take a while enjoying this delectably presented ass of yours?”
“Yes.”
“Even if I come and keep coming until you overflow?”
“Yes! Please!”
Taliesin leans down closer, slipping in deeper as he does. “Even if for the sake of my pleasure you don’t come at all?”
“Yes,” Ivan whispers, knowing it for the truth, and feeling the tears begin to flow as Taliesin finally fills him and begins to take him.
“I don’t think it will come to that,” Taliesin says, fingers digging into Ivan’s hips as he starts moving in smooth deep strokes. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“They heard me too,” Ivan says.
“Mmmm... and it’s their decision in the end.” Taliesin folds himself down over Ivan’s back and kisses whatever skin he can reach. “Perhaps they’ll make you beg.”
Ivan thinks of all the times he’s made other people beg, either for more or for him to stop, people teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain, of voices shakily murmuring ‘green’ when he checks in with them, of how fantastically arousing it is to wield that power over them, especially when he can retain perfect calm and almost indifference to their plights.
“Doesn’t matter, he manages to say. “Feels so good.”
“Oh yeah.” Taliesin’s thrusts become rougher, jerking more tears from Ivan’s eyes because it’s so good but he can’t, he can feel the orgasm curling in his balls and indeed throughout his groin and lower belly, like hot liquid metal being held back from spilling over. He wonders if Taliesin’s enjoying his tears as much as he enjoys the tears of others. His ass tingles where the flesh paddle hit him earlier, and suddenly he’s craving that as well.
“Spank me,” he says in the tiniest voice.
“Pardon,” Taliesin asks with a not-innocent tone in his voice.
“Spank me. Hurt me. Please... I need that too.”
“It’s easy to keep asking once you’ve started, isn’t it?” Taliesin’s first swat is barely a kitten’s pat.
Ivan makes a disgruntled noise. “Hurt me.”
The next smack is far harder, and Ivan groans pressing back against Taliesin.
“Gods, you really do.” Taliesin sounds impressed now. “You really want it.”
“Yes, fuck, please, yes.”
Taliesin pulls out of him and Ivan wails, a long, “Noooo!” that echoes around the little bedroom.
“Shut up,” Taliesin says tersely, and his weight shifts off the bed. Ivan blinks back tears and tries to crane around to see what he’s doing.
At the first stinging blow of the paddle across his backside, he understands. “Oh, oh, thank you.” He’s still babbling his thanks as Taliesin deals out five more blows, three for each cheek, and then shoves back into him, the leather of the paddle rubbing against Ivan’s thigh as Taliesin finds his rhythm again before beginning to swat Ivan in time with his thrusts. Before too long it’s more than swats, solid blows not quite paced with Taliesin’s fucking, so Ivan soon doesn’t know which way to move and begins to dissolve into a shaking, whimpering mess. He can feel his ass getting red and then going beyond that as Taliesin layers blow over blow.
He’s going to be bruised for days, and marked with the suckers’ ungentle touch, and then Taliesin bites his shoulder again with deeper intent, and it’s all driving him out of his mind.
“Come on,” Taliesin says in a rough tone that Ivan doesn’t think is directed at him. “Come here.”
Ivan feels the thick tentacle slide out from beside his aching cock. The sensation nearly tips him over and this time it really hurts when the internal squeeze throttling his orgasm at the source happens. He gasps and sobs as the tentacle slithers back between his legs and nudges at his entrance beside Taliesin’s cock.
“No,” Taliesin chides. “Unless... Ivan, do you want to be doubly fucked, darling?” The tentacle ripples against him, clearly wanting him to say yes.
“If that’s what you called it out for, I will take whatever you want me to take,” Ivan says, barely able to force the words out through the shuddering mix of almost unbearable pain tempered just enough by pleasure for him not to safeword. If that would even work on them.
“It’s not,” Taliesin says, and Ivan feels the tentacle withdraw from his entrance, but not before pushing a good two inches inside him for a long moment, squirting more slick, and he thinks I would, I fucking would, oh my god.
But then he can feel it questing up and around Taliesin’s thigh behind him, and he definitely feels when it sinks with a solid thrust into Taliesin, those bulging bulbs expanding out again until Taliesin groans with fulfilment.
“Oh yeah, that’s it.” The paddle slips from his grasp onto the towels but Ivan doesn’t mind; the novelty of feeling the tentacle fuck Taliesin while Taliesin fucks him in turn is more than enough sensation.
“Done this before?” Ivan manages to gasp.
“This and more.” Taliesin reaches forward to press two fingers against Ivan’s lips; Ivan sucks them in, tasting that sweetness on them. “You want a taste of what more includes?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
It’s the fringed tentacle that comes out this time, the one that has innumerable little tendrils along it as well as the more sparsely dotted suckers. It splits immediately, the one half wriggling under and up his body to his mouth, which Ivan opens eagerly, quick to suck it in and let the tendrils tease inside his mouth. The other half follows the path of the thicker tentacle, wriggling along his cleft to join Taliesin’s cock. It flattens out somewhat, but it’s still quite a bit of extra girth, and Ivan’s thighs begin to tremble as the tendrils wriggle against his prostate. Taliesin groans and Ivan’s not sure but he thinks one tendril might be lapping the head of Taliesin’s cock.
The tentacles at his ankles emerge, winding sinuously up his legs, bracing him, holding him steady and contributing more than a little to his immobilization. Their tips waver for a moment before one hollows out to slip over his cock, the other doing the same to his sac, both of them beginning to quiver and lightly suck.
“Aaaah,” Ivan moans, saliva dribbling from his mouth. He flashes briefly on how this must look from the outside—he’s a pathetic mess, desperate and whining and literally drooling—but as one of the tendrils patiently sucks up the saliva and squirts it back into his mouth, he abruptly stops caring at all. If this is what they’ve decided he’s good for when he’s in company, then he’s going to go with it and see just what they can show him in the way of unconscious desires. Another tendril collects his tears and Ivan tastes those too, so salty compared to the sweet, addictive slick.
Taliesin’s hips start jerking without the easy control he had even just moments ago. He’s being thoroughly ridden by the fat tentacle inside him. The one from Ivan’s right wrist lashes out and Ivan hears it smack against Taliesin’s chest. The one from his left wrist slips out more politely to fasten onto Ivan’s nipples and suck; he can’t believe that doesn’t hurt at this point but it feels like there’s maybe a little of that numbing going on to make sure pleasure doesn’t pass into pain.
If only all his body were so forgiving.
But that stops mattering, because Taliesin lets out a hoarse scream and starts coming. Ivan can feel every slow pulse as intimately as when Taliesin came in his mouth, and he’s sure it will last as long. Come begins dribbling out of him, down his thighs, and Taliesin’s thrusts start to sound obscenely wet.
When some of the little tendrils from the fringed tentacle start lapping up the mess, Ivan’s not surprised; they seem to have a preference for making their mess, not letting other people’s get everywhere. Then he feels a ripple through the tentacle where it runs along his body, and has barely a second to realize and flatten his tongue under the tentacle in his mouth before it throbs lewdly between his lips and begins shooting Taliesin’s come down his throat.
He can hear Taliesin laughing between gasps and moans and knows that he knew this would happen, and his only method of retort is to fasten his lips firmly around the tentacle and suck it as ardently and hungrily as though it were Taliesin’s cock. A ripple runs through the tentacle back the other way and Taliesin abruptly stops laughing as the tendrils wrapped around him inside Ivan mimic the suction. He stops laughing and he starts howling with a deep primal pleasure and in that moment Ivan stops caring about his own state of aching arousal.
He exists, he and the tentacles, they exist solely for Taliesin’s use and pleasure, and when he writhes and struggles under Taliesin it’s not for himself but for Taliesin, for the immortal being who has so generously gifted him with this attention, who likes his toys to squirm.
It goes on long enough that Ivan gets lightheaded from breathlessness. Taliesin’s cries of pleasure grow hoarser and lower but don’t stop, as though the screams are being pulled from his lungs by the will of the tentacles. Maybe they are.
Eventually the hard thrusts taper off to slow lazy slides as Taliesin winds down to gently rocking his hips against Ivan’s ass. The soft glide of his length through the tender muscle would probably be incredible if Ivan, now that he has served his purpose, weren’t thoroughly aware once more of his desperate state.
The tentacle in his mouth withdraws and curls around his throat, but loosely. He wishes it would tighten; the struggle to breathe and not panic would take his mind off the very real ache in his cock and balls.
“Taliesin,” he whimpers.
“What, love?” Taliesin’s voice is hoarse, his tone supremely sated. “Do you want something?”
“No,” Ivan says without realizing that’s the word that will come out until it does. “No. They can go back now.” He swallows hard; his mouth and throat feel like he’s drunk Hershey’s syrup straight from the bottle. “It’s enough to have done so much for you.”
“Sweet one.” Taliesin pats his bruised and sore ass and slips out of him altogether. The tentacles all retract, leaving streaks and splashes of slick; that’s all though, not a trace of come or anything else. They like to keep things their own version of clean.
While they’re sliding back into Ivan’s body and whatever pocket dimensions they reside in—a faintly horrific notion that he’s still getting accustomed to, although an improvement over having them visible under his skin—Taliesin releases his hands from the cuffs and ankles from the spreader bar. Ivan has enough presence of mind to roll as he collapses so that he doesn’t do anything dire to his cock, but that’s all he can manage.
Taliesin sits back against the head of the bed once more and shuffles until Ivan’s head is pillowed on his thigh. He gets his fingers into Ivan’s hair and massages his scalp firmly.
“That was incredible, sweet one,” he says quietly. Ivan can see that his cock is lying quiescent against his other thigh. It looks like, no matter how needy Ivan feels, he’s at least thoroughly fulfilled Taliesin’s unexpected craving for his new appendages.
“I think you’ve earned your release, love,” Taliesin says, reaching down to playfully squeeze one of Ivan’s nipples. Ivan feels a ripple of pleasure down to his groin that doesn’t get halted by the strange internal grip on his ability to come.
“I don’t know if I can,” he answers honestly.
“Try for me.” Taliesin squeezes the nape of his neck. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
Ivan’s embraced the notion that he’s not the one in control any more and so he delicately strokes his cock, skimming the skin with his fingertips. It’s still liberally coated in slick and he wipes away a palmful onto the towel under him.
“Aw, too wet?”
“Yeah.” Ivan’s finally game to take a look at himself; he’s sort of expecting his cock to look different, but aside from being a touch longer and thicker from the pumping (he does wonder what the results might have looked like immediately after, instead of with the cuddling giving it time to settle a little), and flushed darker than usual, it just looks like his cock. Feels about the same, too, when he works up the nerve to close his hand around the length and give it a tentative squeeze.
“Go on, darling,” Taliesin murmurs.
“It hurts.” It does. It’s a low ache that suffuses his whole groin, a not particularly pleasant throbbing sensation that’s not at all the kind of feeling that the word as used in erotic fiction is probably meant to describe.
Taliesin rolls his nipple between thumb and forefinger, sending another wave of pleasure through Ivan’s body, making him whimper and jerk his hips even though it conflicts with the pain. “Go on.”
Ivan turns his head as much as he can to try to press his face against Taliesin’s thigh. Taliesin keeps patiently massaging his scalp, which is pretty much the only physical contact that Ivan doesn’t feel terribly conflicted about. He also starts rubbing circles over Ivan’s chest, paying particular attention to his nipples. Roughly three hours ago Ivan would have said he was fairly indifferent to having them touched, rings or no rings; right now he kind of wishes Taliesin’s mouth weren’t so damn far away. Still stalling somewhat, he gets a fingerful of slick and touches it onto each nipple, feeling them react to whatever pheromones are in the stuff. He imagines it could be anything from basic menthol to some esoteric, otherworldly chemical.
Taliesin laughs softly, but takes the hint and starts playing with more purpose. The only problem is that he’s only doing it one-handed and the other nipple feels terribly neglected. Ivan whines and presses into the touch.
“You do have two hands,” Taliesin reminds him.
Ivan gives in and lifts his free hand to his chest; as soon as he does the tentacle emerges, just a little round cylinder, and oh when it latches on and starts suckling Ivan moans.
“Don’t expect them to be any more help than that.” Taliesin gives him a little shake by the scruff of the neck. “I said show me how you touch yourself. Now.”
Ivan can’t delay any longer, not when that order and the humiliating little gesture sends a thrill of arousal through him that he’s going to have to unpack some other time when he’s not obediently masturbating on command.
It fucking aches. The pain spread even as he quickens his pace, trying to get it over and done with. He’s vaguely aware that he’s started sobbing again, that Taliesin’s petting his hair and murmuring soothing things even as he squeezes Ivan’s nipple just so, and his tears fall unchecked onto Taliesin’s thigh.
“Hurts,” he whimpers. “Can’t.”
“You can stop any time you like, but you’ll feel that ache until you permit yourself to push through it,” Taliesin says. “And what’s on the other side is worth it.”
Oh. There’s an other side? Not just this low-grade agony? Ivan forces himself to keep going, though the pain is aching and deep, like he’s trying to milk out one more orgasm after a whole day of coming. Fuck, maybe he is, he doesn’t know.
Then there’s an equally deep pulse of pleasure and Ivan cries out, “Oh, oh, fuck,” as it reverberates through him.
“Yeah,” Taliesin breathes. “Keep going. Let me see it.”
Come begins to trickle out of Ivan’s cock. Not pre-come; actual come, like some blockage has been removed. He’s half expecting to see some kind of tentacle plug come out, but it doesn’t, just more seeping come. And it still fucking hurts, just with those pulses of pleasure as well, which Taliesin and the tentacle mimic on his nipples, until it’s pleasure-pain-pleasure and Ivan starts moaning as the pain heightens the pleasure, as each pulse of come begins to strengthen from a mere dribble to stronger spurts.
He understands better now why the people who ask him to use his hand or cane or whip on them do so. He always understood why watching them cry and writhe did it for him; now he can comprehend it from the other side.
Ivan realizes the pain has dulled away to almost nothing and yet he’s still coming. He lets it happen, tightens his fingers, fucks his slick fist in earnest, feeling the seemingly endless roll of this peak push through him. He’s aware he’s screaming the way that Taliesin did, screaming and, frankly, jerking off with a desperate need he’s not sure his teenage self could match.
Taliesin keeps talking to him through it, which doesn’t help.
“Oh yeah... look at you, fuck... next time, sweetness, I’m gonna watch you face-fuck yourself, or maybe I’ll face-fuck you and tell them to use you til they’re done and watch you go out of your mind, kind of the way you are now...”
Ivan sobs, manages a deep breath, and then feels Taliesin’s hand on his throat.
“Love,” Taliesin says tenderly, before squeezing.
The last of Ivan’s orgasm empties him with one hard explosion, and he blacks out.
In the darkness:
“Oh, my dear sweet one. What a treasure you are.” That warm, loving hand continues to stroke his hair, as the tentacles all emerge and split and twine themselves around Ivan until he’s completely wrapped up in them, in a slowly undulating cocoon of flesh that strokes and sucks him all over. He cannot see them, only feel that bodywide caress. “I made the right choice in you, didn’t I.”
Ivan opens his mouth to speak and a tentacle snakes into it, hot and hard like a cock, pushing deep into his mouth. He has just enough time to gasp in a quick breath before it plunges into his throat, where Taliesin’s hand on the outside rubs the tip of it through his skin. Ivan can feel it spurting slick and groans around it.
Another wriggles into his ass, tendrils flowering out inside him to find and toy with his prostate. The thick one joins it and Ivan finds out for himself what those round bulbs feel like pushing one by one into him. Despite all the rimming and fucking and everything he’s taken so far, it’s still a difficult tight squeeze for them to pop through the ring of muscle and he can only imagine how big they must be to require that much effort.
“Come.”
Ivan does, shooting into the ropy mass swaddling him. It takes some moments but before long he feels the salty spurt of his own come fed back to him via the tentacle network. It occurs to him he can’t breathe at all, but that’s fine. He squirms in his cocoon and it squeezes tighter around him. He can’t feel Taliesin’s hand on his head any more because they’ve covered his eyes and twined around his head as well.
“Come,” Taliesin croons, his lips brushing Ivan’s ear, having moved—when, how, Ivan doesn’t know. He’s coming again, balls contracting hard but without the deep aching hurt of before. His cries are no more than gurgles as he sucks down another load, lips and tongue drawing eagerly, mindlessly at the invader in his mouth.
“Oh, so very good.” Taliesin’s breathing is becoming uneven; Ivan can distantly feel a distinct familiar quality to the other man’s rhythmic movements beside him. “So fucking good, darling, from head to foot, I should’ve done this sooner, you’re perfect, such a worthy vessel-”
He stops speaking and the bed shifts as he straddles Ivan’s hips; the next thing Ivan knows Taliesin is riding his cock, taking it in along with the tentacle wrapped around it that’s feeding him his come. His hand returns to Ivan’s throat, not just to tease his breath away but to pin him down as he grinds and bucks on Ivan’s length, taking it and the tentacle with deep needy groans.
“Don’t come, sweetness. Just for a minute. I promise you’ll be okay.”
Ivan nods feebly, barely able to move, and hums softly around the tentacle in his mouth as a second sign of consent.
“Yes,” Taliesin breathes, and then he’s driving down hard on Ivan, moaning and gasping unashamedly. Ivan can hear every obscenely wet sound as he does so, plus the additional sound of slick skin on skin that—oh, Taliesin’s jerking off, now he gets it. Jerking off and riding Ivan like he’s an eldritch bucking bronco. Ivan struggles even more under him, attempting to fuck up into him, feeling that aching tension return in response to Taliesin’s directive for him not to come. Taliesin laughs and the mass of tendrils and suckers around Ivan tighten further still, some of them extending out to grip the bed and hold him down.
The lower third of his face is bare so that the tentacle in his mouth has room to move, and it’s there that Taliesin’s hot seed spatters when he comes with the low primal cry of an ages-old being. Tendrils extend from that tentacle to lap it up, shove it into Ivan’s mouth, at the same time as Taliesin orders in a raw voice, “Come,” and if Ivan weren’t already floating in delirious darkness the near-drowning of the fluids flooding his mouth as he desperately gulps and swallows, seed drooling out of the corners of his lips only to be scooped back in by the industrious little tendrils, would put him there.
Taliesin gets off him and the tentacles swarm Ivan’s cock, cleaning with little sucks and nibbles. It’s going to be very useful if he gets into some sort of habit of playing with others, he thinks, and again the sly notion of finding someone less knowledgeable, more innocent, and introducing them to this flits across his mind.
But then all the tentacles withdraw, and Taliesin nudges him over onto his side, spooning around him. One arm goes over his waist. The other hand presses to his forehead, and Taliesin once more murmurs a single word.
“Forget.”
When Ivan emerges from the blackness he’s blearily surprised that his head is no longer on Taliesin’s thigh and that they’re spooning. The painful ache is gone, replaced by a smooth lassitude of sated completion. Perhaps he was out of it a little longer than expected. Taliesin doesn’t seem fazed by it though so it can’t have been unwarrantedly long. The sense of desperation and need has faded away as well, and he just feels warm and safe in Taliesin’s arms.
“Did I die?” he asks.
“Several little deaths,” Taliesin says, kissing his neck, “but not the big one.”
Ivan drifts in simple warmth for a long while, like a boat on a gentle sea being washed gradually back to the shore of reality. He realizes dreamily that he’s coming back from subspace and he’s been deep in it for some time, and lets out a soft “oh” of surprise.
“What, dearest?”
“Subspace?”
“I would imagine so. I’m quite certain that your relinquishing of control today has been rather more than simply giving bottoming a try.” Taliesin kisses his neck again. “Are you dropping hard?”
“No. Are you?”
“I don’t get Dom drop.” Taliesin doesn’t explain further and Ivan takes it at face value. If Taliesin gets con crud but not Dom drop, well, it’s only because crowding thousands of people, some of whom are lax about personal hygiene, together in one convention centre is a relatively new concept, whereas Taliesin’s had centuries to become accustomed to the aftermath of a scene.
So it is that, while Ivan came to Taliesin with a good deal of apprehension, even fear, he ends the day a good deal calmer, even if it’s largely because he’s been fucked utterly senseless. The worry that he might lose control of the tentacles, or that perhaps he doesn’t even have all that much control in the first place, lingers in his mind. But after rather a lot of lazy cuddling, Taliesin talks him through having them emerge and retract one by one, focusing his will and desire on them.
“You probably won’t ever have perfect control,” he says as Ivan holds his arms out and has the two wrist tentacles emerge and form two arcs that conjoin into a heart. “But they’re... hmmm. I’d go so far as to say they’re sapient enough to act in their own best interests.”
Ivan suspects there’s something he’s not saying, but doesn’t ask.
“So they’re not going to do anything that will put you in a dangerous position.” Taliesin rolls on top of him; Ivan’s arms go around his shoulders automatically as Taliesin presses his forehead to Ivan’s. “They’re not going to do anything to you that you’re not willing to have done to you, although sometimes it might be an unconscious desire rather than something that’s on your personal top ten.”
Images and sensations from the past two weeks flash through Ivan’s mind, and he makes a soft sound of assent.
“And they’re certainly not going to do anything to someone else if the other person is unwilling. Unsure or uncertain, sure, even scared, but they’re drawn to curiosity.” Taliesin rubs his foot against Ivan’s ankle; the tentacle rolls sinuously out and twines around their legs, winding up as high as mid-thigh. Ivan draws a shuddering breath; he can feel the rest of his body responding. “They have a sense for who’s most likely to be receptive to them.”
“Like you.”
“Like me,” Taliesin agrees, and his currently lavender eyes dance with amusement.
“I sense you’re starting to feel receptive again,” Ivan observes.
“Mmmm.” Taliesin’s arms wrap around him as the second ankle tentacle comes out. Ivan’s not consciously willing it to do so, but when it slithers up the back of Taliesin’s thigh it pauses at the top, and then Ivan hesitantly gives it some direction. Taliesin moans appreciatively as it nuzzles into his cleft and splits three ways, the outer two forming wide curves that spread Taliesin, the middle one shaping itself into the cylindrical form that is exquisitely good at rimming. “Oh. Yes. Please.”
“What else?” Ivan asks.
Shortly thereafter they’re wrapped together in warm, slowly undulating coils of flesh. There’s not as much slick as earlier, thus no sudden deep dive into mad desperate lust. Instead they’re pressed against each other, tendrils caressing them softly everywhere, their cocks enveloped in a rippling tube that takes up and presses their sacs together as well. They kiss and kiss and kiss, the tentacles leaving their heads alone to do so but otherwise thoroughly cocooning them.
“Ah, love,” Taliesin murmurs.
“Love you,” Ivan says, sending a directive to the tentacle rimming Taliesin to extend inside of him and offer a few delicate strokes. The way that Taliesin’s eyes slip close and his lips part when he sighs with pleasure is nothing short of beautiful.
It surprises him when it all stays slow and soft and gentle. For the most part his experiences have been intense, slick-soaked, and leave him utterly wrung out. This is more like being simply rocked together, and even the fact that the tentacles do playfully edge the pair of them more than once, causing matching cries and whimpers, doesn’t drive him mad. Taliesin, gasping and trembling against him, likewise seems to be clear-headed—or at least as clear-headed as anyone ever is during sex. Perhaps lucid is a better word.
“Ivan, my gods—” Taliesin lapses into incoherence, murmuring nonsensical syllables—well, nonsensical to Ivan; for all he knows they’re some ancient language.
“Oh—Tal—Taliesin—”
Then they’re speaking each other’s names over and over as murmured prayers while pleasure shudders through them both like warm waves on a private hidden shore, gasping against each other’s mouths, holding each other as tightly as the tentacles binding them together.
Coming down is quicker this time, especially because the sheer dizzying rush of endorphins makes Taliesin start laughing with nothing less than pure delight at the experience that they’ve shared. He sets Ivan off in turn, even as the tentacles are retracting save for the one assiduously cleaning off their bellies and thighs and cocks.
Ivan knows what it’s going to do a split second before it does it. Not his idea, but he doesn’t stop it. Taliesin’s still got his mouth open as he laughs and the tentacle snowballs him.
To his credit, he swallows without losing any.
“Very funny,” he says.
“It wasn’t my idea,” Ivan says, all innocence and charm. “I believe you were the one who told me they possess a degree of awareness...”
Taliesin rolls his eyes. “Cheeky boy.” He kisses Ivan’s mouth. “Mind you, you are delicious, although I’d prefer to taste you right at the source.” He kisses the tip of Ivan’s nose. “Maybe we can start there next time.” He rolls off Ivan with obvious reluctance, rising to his feet and stretching. He’s covered in fading suck marks. “For now, though, although I respect and admire how good they are about cleanup, I think showering is in order.”
“You first.” Ivan indicates the sodden towels beneath him. “I think I have some other cleaning up to do.”
Taliesin bends and kisses his forehead. “Thank you. Come join me when you’ve done your chores.”
Ivan strips first the towels and then the blanket off the bed as the shower starts running. He can’t exactly put washing on while Taliesin’s showering, since he has no idea what the water pressure’s capable of handling, but he does scoop everything into a trash bag that he fetches from the kitchen, just in case it drips everywhere. There’s something both scary and arousing about walking naked around someone else’s house, even though Taliesin’s assured him repeatedly that his housemates aren’t home, aren’t even in the state. He puts the mostly full trash bag beside the laundry hamper and finds a clean blanket, making a mental note that next time, towels alone won’t cut it.
Now that Taliesin’s not physically present with him, he has time to think about whether he’s learned enough control or not. He’s deeply reassured by everything that Taliesin’s said about the tentacles being somewhat sapient, or at least capable of acting in their own best interests and thus implicitly not about to hurt anyone.
(Well. He remembers the smack of the fleshy paddle against his ass and thighs. They won’t hurt anyone without consent, and that’s what really matters.)
He’s trying not to think about who else he might approach with this; given how intimate an afternoon he’s just had with Taliesin it doesn’t seem right to already be thinking about the next person, but minds, like tentacles, are prone to wandering.
Ivan finishes remaking the bed and goes to join Taliesin, collecting fresh dry towels on his way. He’s expecting to have to wait his turn, but once he’s set the towels down on the vanity Taliesin reaches out and tugs him into the surprisingly roomy shower stall.
“Good boy,” he says softly. His eyes have faded back to normal, which of course for Taliesin means they’re still intense, but no longer that otherworldly purple. When he backs Ivan up against the cool wet tile wall and kisses him there’s nothing unearthly behind it, just him, just his warm desire. When Ivan kisses him back there’s no eldritch force driving him, just his hands on Taliesin’s bare wet shoulders as Taliesin’s hands cradle his face.
Taliesin’s right about the cleanup of course; the tentacles are good at it but there’s nothing like a long shower to feel properly refreshed. Just as there’s nothing like ordering pizza and then cuddling on the couch while Netflix does its thing to contribute vastly to aftercare. Ivan’s not even sure what show is on; he’s too busy feeling content.
“You can stay the night,” Taliesin offers at one point.
“I would love to, but I have so much work.”
“We’ll schedule a weekend sometime.”
Ivan thinks of a whole weekend to themselves, just him and Taliesin and his new friends, and lets out a low sigh. “Yes... please...”
“You’re bound to end up with more questions as time passes.”
“Probably some questions about being bound.” Ivan feels Taliesin laugh. “I’m not sure I’ll ever find out how or why this happened.”
“Does that bother you?”
“Less than I expected,” Ivan admits. “I think it comes of knowing there are people out there who aren’t quite human. That’s reassuring.”
“We try,” Taliesin says.
Their evening winds down after pizza and eventually Ivan makes himself get up to go. They share a lingering kiss at the front door, the tentacle wriggling out of Ivan’s right wrist where he’s got his hand in Taliesin’s hair to touch Taliesin’s cheek. Taliesin turns his head and kisses it goodnight as well, and Ivan feels the network within him shiver delightfully.
“If anything goes wrong or you have any questions, contact me any time,” Taliesin says. “And I do mean any time. I’d rather fake some sort of digestive issues and excuse myself to check in on you than think you might be suffering because of—them.”
Ivan once more suspects that there is something Taliesin isn’t saying.
“I will,” he promises.
One last kiss and then their time is over, for today at least.
There’s one last playful dig from Taliesin to Ivan, though; about ten minutes after he gets home, exhausted and ready to sleep, his phone pings with a notification. Taliesin has very solemnly sent him an email titled Research materials.
It’s a list of links to tentacle porn fan fiction and art, the majority of which revolves around Venom and Eddie Brock.
Ivan deletes it.
Shortly after he crawls into bed, he undeletes it, picks a link at random, and starts... researching.
obsidian_jade
2022-04-22 08:16 pm (UTC)(link)
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