Page 13 of A Merry Christmas for Art… and His Tentacles

“Art, I will tell you if you do anything I don’t like. I promise. But I am absolutely certain I will like what you just described.” He starts kissing me again, just as desperately as before. Only this time, his mouth moves to my cheek, then my jaw, and lower to my neck. With his mouth, he sucks on my skin, the way my suckers want to latch on to him. I allow myself to wind around him, all my tentacles sliding underneath his shirt this time.

“Fuck, yes,” he hisses and sucks on my neck harder. He must be leaving a mark too, so it’s probably okay for me to do thesame. I let my suckers latch on to his skin, just with one tentacle at first. He moans, his voice vibrating against my neck, but he doesn’t stop. I drag my suction cups down the skin of his smooth back, savoring the flavor of him, allowing my suckers to clamp onto him with a possessive grip. He cries out, biting down on my skin. The pain makes me rock hard.

He pulls off and shakes his head. “Sorry. I… wasn’t prepared for… Oh my God, Art. That was… wow.”

“Wow, as in good?” I ask.

“Wow, as in, I need to slow down. How about we watch a movie?”

My heart sinks. I really enjoyed that, but I guess I came on too strong. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. That was hotter than hell. But unless you want me to come in my pants, I need a break.”

I get the impression that asking Dean Miller to come in his pants is one of those things I shouldn’t say out loud. I would love to see the way his face looks while he orgasms. Especially if I was the one who made him come.

I guess I’ll have to wait.

“Okay. We can watch a movie.”

This is all a dance, like Dean Miller said. A mating ritual. That must mean we’ll get to the orgasms later.

He grabs the remote and turns the TV on.

Dean

We sit on the couch as I flip through streaming channels, and I’m hyper-aware of Art next to me, his tentacle lightly resting against me, his thigh pressing against mine.

I don’t know if I’ll survive a movie without demanding he wrap me up and attach those suckers to every part of me.

But I can do this. I can move slowly. I can give Art time to get used to the idea of us being intimate. I will not rush him.

I just keep telling myself that, but my dick has other ideas.

We need a distraction. I click on a service and flick through some options, asking, “Anything in particular you want to watch?”

“I do not watch much television. I find reading to be a better way of acquiring information,” Art states.

I should’ve guessed that would be his answer. “Does anything look interesting?” I ask.

He points to an old television show that was around before cryptids came out. “What is that one? I was not aware that vampire slaying was considered a field of study or a job choice.”

I try not to laugh, because I don’t want Art to think I’m laughing at him. “Um, no. Buffy started before cryptids cameout, and then they stuck with the world building. It’s not based in reality,” I answer.

“Ah, it conveys what humans thought of cryptids before they were public. It would be interesting to see how vampires were portrayed before humans understood the reality of the situation,” Art answers.

I give a shrug and hit play. It ends up starting on a random episode and not on episode one—I admit I might have binge watched it a few months ago when I had the flu.

I should probably encourage Artnotto talk through the whole episode, but his comments are too amusing, and I love how he views things. Watching Buffy with him is a lot of fun. When the episode is over, he looks at me, perplexed.

“I do not understand why vampires would kill humans. It makes no logical sense for them to sacrifice their food source when it is unnecessary. It would be like killing a sheep after you took the wool. The sheep will produce more wool, and thus it is more lucrative to keep it alive. It is also highly judgemental that they classify all vampires as evil. Their portrayal of witches is also strange. And surely such a thing as a ‘hellmouth’ has never existed,” he says, staring at me.

I try to focus on what he’s saying, I really do, and I did a great job through most of the show, but his tentacles are wandering again now that he isn’t focused on the show. One is gently kneading my thigh, and another is resting along the back of my neck, and I can feel his suckers gently latching and unlatching against my skin.

“Um, yeah, it’s fiction. No one took it as real at the time, and no one thought vampiresreallyexisted,” I say, barely suppressing a groan as I finish my sentence.

Art seems to notice, because his tentacles stop their motion, although he doesn’t move them.

“Have we reached the part of the dance where we are able to achieve mutually beneficial pleasure with one another?” Art asks, and I swear the innocent look on his face only makes the question that much hotter.

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