Page 41 of Hook, Line, and Tentacle
I guide the curious limb downward, and it yields easily to the motion, moving under the gentle pressure of my fingers like it wants to be steered. I stroke slowly, coaxing it further between his thighs, careful not to press yet.
Cal watches me with wide, depthless eyes, lips parted, breathing shallow.
“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, stroking the inside of his thigh with my free hand. “Beautiful man. I love you.”
Something fractures in his expression, and the strong, stubbled column of his throat works with a swallow. “I love you,” he echoes thickly.
I smooth my palm over his thigh, then glance up at him. “Do you trust me?”
He gives a high, breathy laugh, raking a hand back through his curls. His hair-tie seems to have been lost somewhere, so it’s now loose and wild, framing his face. “Yes, love. I don’t think we’d have got to this point if I didn’t.”
I narrow my eyes. “Still have to check. Consent isn’t a one-time thing.”
He cracks a smile, but it’s suspicious. “You’re scheming, little trespasser.”
“I have an idea.” My tone is far too innocent for the wicked gleam I know is in my eye.
He groans, head dropping back against the sheets. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”
“You’ll like this one,” I promise, sliding a hand up to tug on his wrist. “You said you liked thinking about it being me, really me, fucking you—so…I have an idea.”
I pull him up and rearrange us on the bed, shifting myself back against the pillows at the headboard, guiding him gently to move with me. I strip off my clothes—his borrowed shirt, and my sleep shorts and panties—and lift my gaze back to him.
“Come here,” I whisper, urging him forward with soft nudge to his hip with my foot. “On your knees, baby. Facing me.”
He does, still breathing unevenly, his thighs spread slightly as he sits back on his heels. His gaze is fixed unfalteringly on me, presumably waiting to see what the fuck I have planned for him. Tentacles splay around him like the unfeathered veins of wings, hovering over his shoulders and waiting for direction from me, just as he is. I let my eyes roam over him for a moment, drinking him in.
I don’t think I’ll ever get over how beautiful he is.
I reach for one of the tentacles, letting my fingers trail along the length of it before bringing it to my lips. I kiss it gently, and it shivers in response.
Sometimes I swear I can feel them the way I feel Cal. Not in words or thoughts, not in any way I could articulate, but… something. Like there’s a thread between us and the tentacles are tied to it too. They’re not just extensions of him—they’re extensions ofus, of this bond we’ve built, sticky and strange and sacred.
This one follows my lead as I guide it slowly over my thigh, curling it around my waist, then easing it down beneath my other thigh. I press it close to my body and let it rise again between my legs as I grab the lube and slick it until it’s hot and firm and almost humming, like it knows exactly what I want it to be.
I look down at it, then back up at him.
Cal visibly malfunctions.
“It’s a tentacock,” I say solemnly, but then a laugh bursts out of me. “Get it?”
He makes a strangled sound, halfway between amusement and desperation, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. I swear he stops breathing entirely when I reach down, wrap my fingers around the shaft-like swell of the tentacle, and give it a slow, suggestive stroke.
“So…” I murmur, meeting his gaze again. “Do you want to ride me, baby?”
His breath catches audibly. One of the other tentacles twitches, betraying his restraint. He stares like he’s not sure if he’s alive or dreaming.
“Oh, fuck,” he says hoarsely. “Yes.”
I stroke my hands up his thighs—thick and tense under my palms—soothing him as I guide him closer.
“You’re sure?” I ask. “You can stop whenever you want. You know that?”
Cal nods, too fast, then drags in a ragged breath, steadying his hands against my knees. “Yes, love. I know. I want—God, I want everything you’ll give me.”
My heart gives a traitorous little flutter, and I lean in, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat. “Then come take me, baby.”
His pupils blow wide, the soft violet ring of his irises swallowed almost completely. I guide him by the hips, the way he’s guided me so many times, patient and honoring his trust. One hand strokes the tentacle between my thighs, keeping it firm and slick, angled just right.
