Chapter Thirteen #2
He wanted to pull Davy down into a kiss to underline that statement.
He wanted his fingers wrapped around the back of Davy’s neck and his leg hooked over a lean hip.
It felt a bit…greedy, maybe…to want more than the heavy, prying caress of Davy’s tentacles, but the frustration at not being able to touch skin and hair and cock still yanked at his gut.
“Yeah, and usually that’d be enough,” Davy said. “But…”
He trailed off and looked nearly as frustrated as Hill felt.
Then he pushed himself up and sat back, his hands slack between his knees.
Most of his tentacles pulled back with him, laid over his thighs, or slung over his shoulder.
Only the ones on Hill’s thigh and curled around the back of his neck stayed where they were.
“You saw how I played Reynolds,” Davy said abruptly.
The tease was gone from his voice; it had gone flat and unemotional.
It felt like the opposite. Maybe that was just a way for Hill to lie to himself, though.
Davy scratched the back of his wrist and frowned.
“I could do that to you. Use you, what you can do, to get what I need. It wouldn’t be hard anyhow, but this would make it easier. ”
“So why tell me?” Hill asked.
Davy made a sour face. “I don’t know,” he said. “I guess I don’t want to.”
“So don’t.”
“Yeah, easier said than done,” Davy said. “When it comes to the crunch, I’m an expedient sort of asshole. If using you makes sense, I’ll try.”
“I’m not that easy to—”
The tentacle on his thigh squeezed and then pushed up between his legs.
It was thick and firm as it pressed against his ass, the narrow end of it hooked into the waistband of his jeans.
Hill’s stomach hitched, and the words got all tangled in his throat.
He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes, his fingers digging down against the floor.
His cock ached as it pressed against the confinement of his jeans.
“What was that?” Davy asked. “You’re not that easy to…?”
Hill swallowed hard and lifted his head off the floor. He reached up and grabbed a handful of tentacle to untangle it from his neck, the bulk of it cool and heavy as it twisted and wriggled against his palm.
“I want to fuck you,” Hill said. “That doesn’t mean I trust you.”
He did, though. It might not be smart, but he did. That discussion, however, would definitely take longer than he wanted right now.
Hill wrapped his fingers around the tentacle, tight enough he could feel the muscles flex under the fine skin, and hesitated a second. He wasn’t actually sure if what he was about to do was hot, or…well…not. There was only one way to work that out, though.
He lifted it to his face and wrapped his lips around it.
The tentacle was cool against his tongue. It tasted of blood, whiskey, and regret as it filled his mouth. He swallowed out of surprise—he’d not considered it might have the same effect as the Beyond’s food did—and that dragged a very satisfying groan out of Davy.
Hill glanced up through his lashes at Davy. The other man had tilted his head back, the line of his throat drawn taut and long, and dug his teeth into his lower lip. His hands were braced against his thighs, blunt nails dug into the lean, clenched muscles.
Whatever this was, somewhere between a kiss and a blowjob as Hill worked out what pulled those small, hungry sounds out of Davy’s mouth, it was definitely hot. And Hill could, at least a bit, touch Davy back.
He ran his hand down the tentacle, the thickness of it straining his fingers as he got closer to the base, and tangled his tongue around the section of it in his mouth.
After a moment, he pulled back, jaw aching and the tentacle wet and slick as it slid from his lips, and gave Davy a challenging look.
“And I didn’t carve the Beyond open from the goodness of my heart,” he said. “I’m using too, remember.”
Davy took a ragged breath, and Hill weirdly kind of missed that too, and dropped his chin.
It should have been hard to read arousal in his eyes without dilated pupils to use as a gauge.
Somehow, between the hooded lids and a swallow-him-whole deepening of the black, it wasn’t.
The quiescent tentacles stirred and stretched out to Hill as they came back to life.
“Yeah, fuck it, that’s good enough for me,” Davy said. “Who am I trying to fool, anyhow?”
Tentacles curled around Hill’s legs, under his knees and ass, and tucked under his armpits.
Hill couldn’t stifle a yelp of surprise as he was hoisted off the ground and suspended in midair.
He supposed he should have realized after he’d seen what they did in the alley, but he’d not realized how strong they were.
Or how undignified it felt to just…dangle.
“Umm…” he hedged as he tried to shift his weight. “Can we…”
The words trailed off as Davy stood up and stripped efficiently out of the briefs that were all he had on.
It wasn’t the first time that Hill had seen, or lusted over, Davy’s naked body.
It was the first time that he’d seen Davy’s cock thick and ready as it hitched up towards his flat, hard-slatted stomach.
His mouth dried up, and for the first time since he’d been shucked out of his body, he felt the lack of air in his lungs.
Had he been about to say something? He couldn’t remember. Right now, he wasn’t sure if he was still verbal or not.
“Oh,” he said.
That didn’t really clear up the “verbal” question. It was more of a sound than a word.
“What should I do?” Davy asked.
“Huh?”
Still not a word, but closer. Hill tried to brace an elbow on nothing and then gasped as a tentacle slid up under his shirt.
It wasn’t rough. The tentacle’s surface was cool and fine, softer than fingers as it rubbed against Hill’s stomach and up over his collarbone.
There was still a texture to it that he could feel rasp against his skin.
“It’s your body,” Davy reminded him. He hooked a thumb into the corner of his mouth and dragged it along his lower lip, the exposed skin wet and pink.
As Hill watched, a tentacle curled up from the neck of his shirt, fabric stretched around it, and repeated the gesture on his mouth.
Davy waited till it was done to repeat his question.
“If you were the one wearing it, what would you do? Tell me how you’d fuck me. ”
The answer was easy. It was getting it out of his parched, thirsty mouth that took Hill a moment.
While he waited, Davy plucked at the sleeve of Hill’s T-shirt with a tentacle. Another grabbed at the hem, pulling it up, and between them, they quickly stripped it over his head. Hill blinked as the cotton was pulled up over his nose and shook his head to get his hair out of his face.
“I’d give you—”
“Wait,” Davy interrupted. He strolled across the room, his tentacles hauling Hill along with him, and flopped down on the sofa.
A stray, unhelpfully prosaic part of Hill’s brain took a second to be distracted at that. There was a towel somewhere. If Davy had asked…
Shut up, he told it firmly, shut up, shut up.
“I’m a kinesthetic learner,” Davy said. He paused, head cocked as he waited. When Hill didn’t chip in, Davy prompted him. “Most people like to compliment me on knowing a big word like that.”
“Why?”
It was the real smile again, slow and warm and dimpled.
Davy tilted his head to the side, fingers buried in his hair, and chuckled.
Something about the gesture felt so intimate that Hill made a quick, deliberate attempt to absorb all the details, from the creases on Davy’s wrist to the scuffed skin on his knees. For…for later, when it was over.
“Never mind,” Davy said.
Hill tucked the memory away somewhere safe in his brain. He looked at Davy curiously.
“I’ll be honest, I thought my…appreciation…of this, of you, was already clear without any more compliments.”
“I mean, everyone likes to hear they’re pretty,” Davy said.
He raised an eyebrow and dragged a tentacle along the bulge under Hill’s jeans.
Hill hitched his hips up into the contact, but the tentacle flicked away after a quick tease of a grope.
“But yeah, that is pretty flattering. So, back to business. Like I said, I learn by doing. So clear step-by-step instructions so I can follow along. Detail is always good. Where do I start?”
Part of Hill wanted to skip straight to the good part, but he’d been given a social cue detailed enough he couldn’t misinterpret it. So he probably should acknowledge it.
“Put your hand on your collarbone,” he said.
Davy did as he was told. If Hill had wanted to be pedantic, he could have pointed out he’d not said which shoulder. He’d also not said for Davy to do it seductively, rubbing his thumb along the sharp jut of his collarbone and licking his lips.
This once he’d let the improvisations slide.
“Like that,” he said, and then the words stuck on the back of his tongue as Davy repeated the gesture on him.
A tentacle brushed gently along his collarbone and then…
waited. So did Davy. Hill bit his lower lip and nodded.
“That’s it. Just like that. Now run your hand down your chest to your… your nipple.”
Davy ran his hand down to his nipple. He grazed his thumb over it and mimicked the gesture on Hill’s with the flat of a tentacle. Breath or not, Hill’s lungs hitched in his chest, and his muscles tightened. Meanwhile, other tentacles stripped off his socks and sneakers, dropping them to the floor.
It briefly occurred to Hill that he could well spend the rest of Christmas naked, depending on how clothes worked in the Beyond. They’d “died” with him, but could they persist without him being in contact with them?
He supposed he’d find out. Tentacles wrapped around his feet, the tickle of them against his soles and around his bony ankles making him curl his toes. His cock ached, that increasingly familiar hollowing ache of lust in the Beyond.
“Pinch your nipple,” Hill managed to choke out. He groaned at the same time as Davy did, the stretched-thin tendril tip wrapped all the way around his. Davy rolled both of their nipples until they hardened, tight and puckered, under the attention. He clenched his fists. “Tighter.”
Hill stumbled through the next few steps of the seduction.
The perfectionist in him demanded he put together a well-structured, logical guide, but his thoughts were scattered with lust and hunger.
His own and the groans and lip-bitten reactions from Davy.
Hands moved down and spread over lean, hard stomachs, combing through the short trail of sweat-matted hair under his navel.
Davy’s cock thrust up between the V of his thumb and fingers as he waited.
The grubby square of the gauze that covered his injured hand looked stark against tanned, bony hands.
“Touch yourself,” Hill got out, the words dry and stuck to the end of his tongue.
Davy smirked at him. “How?”
The image was in Hill’s head, long, competent fingers cuffed around the thickness of the shaft as the thin skin creased with each slow, steady pump.
The way it slid, slick with come, against the palm as Davy’s hips fucked up into the tight grip.
Except it wasn’t just technically Hill’s hands in the fantasy; he could feel the heat and heartbeat of the erection against his skin and tighten his grip without having to input the directions.
It was raw and immediate, and he couldn’t break it down into easily followed steps. Not with his own body hollowed out and tight with his reaction to the attentive caress of Davy’s tentacles.
“If you don’t know,” he said, “I’m not sure you’re the one taking advantage of me.”
Davy caught his upper lip between his teeth and shrugged. His tentacles pulled Hill closer and lowered him until he was almost sitting in Hill’s lap.
“Oh, don’t worry,” he said as he reached out.
His hand grazed through the air a few inches above Hill’s waist, and the pressure of the tentacle that actually touched him wasn’t that far off if he closed his eyes and pretended.
He twisted the buttons off Hill’s jeans, one after the other, with a precise flick of a tentacle. “I was just warming up.”