Page 45 of Tis the Season for Tentacles
Felix and I can share this bed platonically without any issue.
I continue repeating this mantra over and over again in my head as I meditate to find inner serenity. Although I don’t know that I actually achieve it. However, by the time Felix comes out of the bathroom followed by a waft of steam, I am more settled and calm.
That is, until I get a whiff of his fresh, clean scent straight out of the shower. The citrusy tang from the body wash he used and the underlying aroma that is his own unique scent tantalize my senses.
Perhaps I really have gone too long without finding a temporary partner to help fulfill mutual sexual needs. Because normally, I’m not like this.
Fuck.
Felix’s hair is damp and tousled, and he’s still running a towel over it to dry it.
Thankfully, he’s covered up well in the sleep garments and bathrobe, but somehow, he still manages to make them look sexy.
Galactic gods. I’m losing my damn mind.
I hastily grab some sleep garments of my own and fly into the bathroom like I’m being chased by an intergalactic Alliance patrol cruiser.
As I shower, I studiously avoid thinking about how sweet and vulnerable Felix looked—and how much I want to see what he looks like without anything on.
I’m not very successful though. Flashes of him from throughout the day keep flitting through my mind, and I fight to ignore my half-erect cock, which is quite eager for me to pay it attention.
No, I amnotgoing to jack off in the shower while Felix is in the other room and I’m thinking about how fucking good he smells.
Nope. That would just make me kind of creepy.
I get out of the shower and towel myself off angrily, my cock still at half-mast. My tentacles help me comb and braid part of my hair again. Sasha tells me it’s my “hot Viking hair,” whatever that means.
Donning the pair of sleep pants I grabbed, I’m brought to a halt when I realize I did not grab the matching top in my hurry to get away from Felix and his tempting aroma.
I study myself in the mirror. My torso is not as badly scarred as the average warrior my age, but remembrances of my training and the battles I have fought are etched in my skin forever. Hopefully, it will not be too off-putting to Felix.
I step out of the bathroom and Felix, who’s sitting on the bed, stares up at me wide-eyed.
“Do not be alarmed,” I start to say.
He scrambles off the bed and backs away from me.
I frown, attempting to read the situation and failing miserably. Is Felix afraid of me?
He gulps. “Forget the nutcracker. You could crack walnuts with those abs.”
I stare down at my torso in confusion. “What?”
“Chris Hemsworth wishes he was you. Holy shit,” Felix mutters, still unable to look away from my chest.
My tentacles twitch with uncertainty.Who is this Chris Hemsworth?“I hope you do not find my body… offensive. I will cover it up.”
“That’s not a body, that’s a whole temple—and boy, do I want to kneel and worship,” he whispers, almost in a daze.
That’s when it clicks that Felix actuallylikeswhat he’s seeing.
And damn if I don’t grin with smug satisfaction, flexing my pecs a little.
Felix licks his lips, his cheeks flushed.
Oh.
I like him like this.
