Page 54 of Kringle and the Kraken

“What are you drinking?”

He lifted an amber bottle. “Beer. It’s good. Don’t tell my parents, but it’s a Christmas ale from a brewery near Portsmouth.”

“I’ll take one of those.”

He grabbed another bottle from the fridge, used a bottle opener to pop the top, then passed it over. The beer was sort of spicy and reminded me of the way Kris’s family’s workshop smelled.

Kris returned his attention to the stove, where he fiddled with a flat pan. He grabbed bowls and plates from a cupboard above the sink, and a couple minutes later, he set a plate with two grilled cheese sandwiches stacked on it and a bowl of creamy tomato soup in front of me.

“Told you it wouldn’t be gourmet, but in my opinion, there are few things better than grilled cheese and tomato soup.”

“All we need is your mom’s cocoa.”

“The ultimate comfort food trifecta.”

When we were done eating, Kris offered me another beer, which I declined, then shooed me away to sit on the couch in the living room while he cleaned up. I tried to help, but he told me to rest and pushed me out of the kitchen with a kiss and slap on the ass.

At some point, Kris had started a fire in the large wood-burning fireplace, and the logs crackled while the flames danced and cast a pretty orange-red glow around the room. Like a lot of the furniture in Kris’s house, the couch was well worn and comfortable in that way that only truly loved things are. The fire made the room pleasantly warm, and I slipped off Kris’s hoodie, then tipped my head back to rest on the overstuffed cushions.

The ship in a bottle that I’d seen earlier caught my eye, and I studied it intently from my spot on the couch. Even from across the room, the level of detail was astounding. Kris had said it was his first attempt and that he’d made a lot of mistakes, but all I could see was the perfection in every line. Each sail was the same size, each mast perfectly straight. Looking at his art was mesmerizing, and I was so lost in the details that I didn’t realize Kris had joined me in the living room until I felt the couch cushion dip next to me.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Much better. I was pretty wiped out right after I got out of the water. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Always.” The single word was said so matter-of-factly, that it made my hearts skip a beat. Kris reached out and took my arm in his hand, his thumb tracing over the lines of my tentacles where they rested against my skin, and by the time his fingers skated over the tentacle lines that creased at my elbow, my cock had perked up, tenting Kris’s sweatpants.

I watched his face and saw the exact moment he caught my reaction to his touch, but he didn’t stop his gentle exploration of my skin to head for more exciting territory. When he reached myshoulder, he pushed the sleeve of my borrowed T-shirt up and traced the thicker outlines of my tentacles there with his fingers. He leaned in and kissed along my jaw, his fingers still teasing over the raised outlines of my tentacles, which, now having been in their full form, stayed dormant against my skin. Kris trailed more kisses down my neck until his mouth met his fingers, and his tongue took over the teasing.

Kris kissed along the lines his fingers had traced until he reached my wrist, lifting it to his mouth and placing a kiss in the center of my palm. A moan slid from between my lips, and I shuddered under him, my skin buzzing with the echoes of his touch. His hands ran over my torso and under the hem of the T-shirt, pushing it up to expose my abs.

“May I?” he asked, his warm palms skating over my skin, and I silently moved forward enough that he could slide the shirt up and off my body. When the shirt was gone, tossed behind Kris on the coffee table, he moved to straddle my hips, one knee landing on either side of my thighs and sinking into the couch. The soft flannel of his shirt rubbed against my chest, and I leaned into the sensation. Kris began kissing me again, his fingers and lips and tongue working together to trace every line of my tentacles that rested against my shoulders, across my pecs, and down my chest. When he reached one of my nipples, he sucked the pebbled flesh into his mouth, flicking over it with his tongue in a way that made my hips arch under him, my rock-hard cock trapped between our bodies. His fingers found my other nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger while his tongue continued to work the other. Until that moment, I had no idea I was into nipple play. Past lovers had spent very little time exploring that area of my body, opting instead to explore my tentacles. But Kris played my body like he was an expert, and I felt myself leaking precum, the head of my cock getting sticky inside the sweats I’d borrowed.

And something about knowing it was Kris’s clothes I was marking made me feel feral. My tentacles, which had been content to stay quiet against my skin while Kris licked each of them, lifted, the two that wrapped around my arms tangling in Kris’s hair and holding his head against me in a plea to keep going.

He switched his attention to my other nipple, his mouth and fingers switching sides to prolong the sensual torment. My fingers gripped his waist hard enough to bruise, and my tentacles tunneled deeper into his hair, tugging at the dark strands and making him moan and hum against my chest. I was rocking my hips, trying to find more friction for my now aching cock, but Kris had moved, pushing back as his lips abandoned my nipples and continued to trace my tentacles to where several dipped under my waistband.

When Kris’s hands slid under the fabric of my borrowed sweats, I lifted my hips without being asked, and he pushed the fabric down, freeing my cock so it slapped against my abs. He slid off the couch, landing on his knees in front of me, and one of my hearts tried to climb into my throat. He looked so beautiful kneeling on the rug, pulling the sweats off over my feet and tossing them away then spreading my knees wide so he could fit himself between them. The soft fabric of his shirt tickled over my inner thighs, but I craved a rougher touch, something I’d been imagining since he’d walked into my shop weeks ago.

Kris’s eyes met mine as I tried to move my body to show him what I wanted, my tentacles that had been tangled in his hair sliding down his cheeks to tug at his beard. His hands stroked over the tentacles as he studied my eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was thick and deep with desire that matched mine.

“Let me take care of you, baby.”

The endearment was my undoing, and I let my head fall back on the couch cushions as Kris’s mouth moved up my thigh,licking over the tentacle that was lifting from my body the closer he got to my cock. He stroked it with his hands and licked over it with his mouth, tonging several of the suckers on the bottom like he was working the head of my cock. My dick pulsed as his tongue laved over the circular pad of flesh. No one had ever done that before, and the feeling was almost indescribable. The suckers were sensitive, more attuned to pressure and temperature, and as Kris’s tongue traced a figure eight around two of the suckers, my hands gripped his hair.

He pulled away and looked up at me, his mouth shiny, but he didn’t wipe at it. “Is that okay?”

“So, so okay. That feels amazing.” My voice was breathy, but I didn’t care. He was taking me apart and had no idea that his tentative exploration was bringing me to my knees, and I knew deep in my three hearts that I was never going to be the same.

Emboldened by my praise, Kris lifted my tentacle, turning it in his hands so the underside was exposed. It curled around his fingers, squeezing him tight as his mouth connected with every sucker, his beard rubbing over the sensitive pads and over the skin of my thigh. My cock was leaking now, desperate for attention, even as I wanted him to keep teasing me. The contrast between his soft tongue and warm mouth and the rasp of his coarse beard lit every single nerve ending up like one of the Christmas trees out at his parents’ place. I felt more alive and more desperate than I’d ever felt before, and I could no longer hold any of my tentacles still as they wrapped themselves around as much of Kris as they could reach.

Now tangled up in my tentacles, Kris moved toward my cock, his hand wrapping around the base.

“Can I taste you, Levi?”

“Gods yes. Please. I need your mouth.”

His lips closed over the head of my dick before I’d even finished speaking, and my hips thrust up into his mouth, butKris’s hand on my hip, his wrist encircled by one of my tentacles, stopped me from going too deep, from taking over and taking what I wanted.

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