Chapter Fourteen
Davy peeled Hill out of his jeans and dropped them unceremoniously to the ground.
He already knew what Hill looked like naked, having spent the last two days in the man’s body.
There were no surprises in the bony shoulders and lean, wirily muscled body that Davy supported in midair.
Not even in the decently sized cock that lifted from the sparse nest of wiry hair between Hill’s legs.
It still felt better.
Maybe it was just that Hill knew how to wear the body, or the way he looked at Davy with that open, eager expression. Like he trusted him.
There weren’t enough acting lessons in the world for Davy to pull off that look. He was too much of an asshole for that; it always shone through.
And Hill might be an idiot to trust Davy, but it was kinda hot.
Look at that. Nearly half a century, living and dead, under his belt, and he’d finally found his kink. Who could have guessed it would be dumbass?
He curled a tentacle over Hill’s hip bone and spread it down over the tight skin of his abdomen until he could wind it around Hill’s cock.
For a second, he was taken aback at the lack of a pulse.
It was funny how quickly he’d gotten used to that.
The low whimper that scraped out of Hill’s throat as Davy gave a brief squeeze confirmed that pleasure didn’t need a pulse.
“I don’t know who’s going to get fucked more thoroughly,” he said as he sprawled back on the couch and spread his legs wider.
He wrapped his/Hill’s fingers around his/Hill’s cock, and there it was, the steady throb of something alive in his grip.
“You or the universe’s plans for me to learn anything. ”
Hill had squeezed his eyes shut. He opened them now to give Davy a dry look.
“Is that what passes for dirty talk in the spirit world?” he asked.
“You can do better?” Davy asked.
Hill opened his mouth, closed it, and then admitted, “Not right now.”
That…was kinda flattering.
“That’s what I thought,” Davy said. “Besides, Fraser did the talking—”
The mention of Fraser made Hill screw up his face. “Not wanting to think about him right now.”
Yeah, Davy probably didn’t want to think too hard about that either. He pushed on to get back on track.
“I’m more hands-on,” he said as he stroked his fist along his cock in time with the tentacle that dragged along Hill’s.
And his brain was a lot better at mapping pleasure than it was with pain.
Instead of the roll of the dice body part being on fire/dipped in acid/chewed, it took what his tentacles felt and dropped it where it seemed to make the most sense.
In this case, anywhere from Davy’s cock to his asshole, with the occasional jangled nerve pop of electric pleasure in his fingertips or on his lips.
Right now, he could feel Hill’s fingers on his cock and Hill’s cock in his hands.
The feedback loop of it fired off nerves he didn’t know he had.
His balls pulled up tight and eager between his legs, heavy with come and heat, as he thumbed the foreskins on two cocks to reveal the flushed, wet heads.
Hill groaned and sprawled back against the support of Davy’s tentacles, the muscles on his arms and legs taut as he thrust his hips up against the tight, smooth grip of flesh around his shaft. The feedback made Davy groan and press his shoulders back against the couch cushions.
Because it wasn’t just in his fingertips. It felt like their cocks were tangled together, squeezed around each other. It was a weird visual, but it felt fucking good.
It didn’t help that the tentacles he’d not focused on were still busy with Hill’s body.
They squirmed around his throat and thighs, knotted through his eager, clutching hands, and swiped across the soft, wet line of his mouth.
Pleasure and a little pain, as Hill’s fingers dug into Hound-caused bruises or scraped the barely scabbed cut from a Hound’s knife.
That chilled Davy a little, even through the flood of sensory overload that clenched his thigh muscles and plucked at his taint like a wire. He’d lost something there, and it had been something important. Not that he could tell you how he knew that, but he did.
It was gone, though, and there was no way to bring it back. So Davy shoved that cold bit of knowledge down under the wet wrap of Hill’s mouth around a tentacle/cock/tongue and the hot, heavy pleasure that dragged at his cock and ass with every stroke.
One of his tentacles ran up the back of Hill’s thigh, tracing the knots of tight muscle, and flicked along the crease of lean ass. The caress made Hill moan, the sound strangled as it struggled out of his stretched-taut throat and pleasure-slack mouth.
Davy hesitated. He’d never…
Obviously, he’d grabbed the occasional grope and stuffed a tentacle into some dead man’s willing mouth to muffle an inconvenient whimper.
When it came to fucking, though, he’d always fallen back on his cock.
Why wouldn’t he, after all? It had the experience, he’d never had any complaints about it, and…
it wasn’t the physical embodiment of his sins.
He’d always assumed they were mostly murders. Although he had killed a lot more than twelve people, so he wasn’t entirely sure.
One of Hill’s legs sagged down to the floor as Davy’s tentacles responded to his distraction.
He pressed the ball of his foot against the floor to brace himself, the muscles in his calf and thigh defined under pale skin.
On a whim, Davy withdrew his tentacles, slick with sweat, spit, and come, to let him stand up.
Hill staggered as he took his full weight and went down onto his knees.
Everything in Davy’s body clenched in visceral reaction to that.
He licked his lips and dragged his hand away from his aching-hard cock to try and hang onto control for just a little longer. Meanwhile, Hill had tilted his head forward, tangled hair falling over his face as he pulled himself back together.
“Is that enough?” Davy asked. He tucked a curve of tentacle under Hill’s chin to tilt his head up. Mismatched eyes, the green still faded down to pewter shades, stared at him as Hill pressed his knuckles against bare thighs. “Or do you want more?”
Hill gripped the tentacle under his chin, the rough scrape of his fingers a ghost-sensation that made Davy’s cock throb painfully, and kissed it.
“I want you,” he said. The tentacle slid between Hill’s fingers to nudge at his lips. Hill pushed it away for a second as he looked at Davy. “All of you that I can get. While I can still have any of you.”
That was right. Davy clenched his hand into a fist to remind himself. His fingers pressed against the gauze that covered the raw gash in his hand. It didn’t hurt. It had, but the dead flesh had spread across most of his palm now. They were under a—literal—deadline.
“I’m not worth it.” It took a second for Davy to realize that was his voice and his words. It didn’t sound like him, but now that he was paying attention, he could feel his mouth saying it. “You know that, right? I was never worth much, and now I’m just…someone else’s dead.”
“Fuck you and forget you?” Hill said. “Is that it?”
Davy slapped a tentacle against Hill’s ass cheek. The sound was ironically fleshy, considering the topic of discussion.
“Be realistic, you’re not going to forget me,” Davy said. “I’m fucking you with tentacles, you’re going to be 102 in a nursing home and bring that up. But…if I were alive, I’d fuck this up. If you were dead, I’d fuck it up. So you don’t need to be sad or feel bad.”
Hill wrapped his hand around the tentacle and stroked his fist down it. The reflected touch made Davy’s balls twist in the sac and forced a low grunt out of him as his diaphragm clenched.
“I’m the invoker,” he reminded Davy. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
It shouldn’t have mattered. Davy was used to it not mattering. He had no concept of how to react to the fact that, for some reason, it suddenly did.
He’d be missed. So what? Why did he care?
There was no precedent here for Davy to follow, so he fell back on the old, familiar standbys. Fight or fuck…and he’d already laid the groundwork for one.
A bead of come dewed on the head of Hill’s cock. Davy flicked it up with a tentacle, then wrapped the long, sinewy length of it around Hill’s leg from balls to knee. Others wrapped around Hill’s chest to scrape over his nipples or stretched up to slip between his lips and fill his mouth.
It all poured back into Davy, the overwhelming sensation settling into his balls like a weight. He swore raggedly under his breath and wrapped Hill’s hand, bandage and all, around his cock.
Like when he was a kid and he’d sat on his hand so he felt numb when he jerked off.
Tentacles pushed between Hill’s ass cheeks and traced the pucker of his hole.
The taste of it filled Davy’s mouth, soap and the distinct musky earthiness, and he hitched his hips up off the couch as he fucked his hand.
Sweat beaded on his stomach and trickled down his back into the crack of his ass.
Davy folded his lower lip between his teeth and watched through hooded eyes as he pushed the spit-slick length of himself up inside Hill.
He could feel the tight clutch of Hill’s ass around him, layered over the rough grip of his fingers.
He had to bite down until it hurt to throttle the knot of want/pleasure that pulsed in his gut and balls back down.
“What does it feel like?” he asked as he slid a tentacle out of Hill’s mouth. It slid over his shoulder and down his arm, a trail of damp left on his skin. The chill of it prickled a line of goose bumps along Davy’s arms in sympathy.
Hill made a ragged noise as he arched his back, stomach muscles pulled tight and long under his skin, and clenched his fingers around the tentacles that shackled his arms. His mouth opened and closed as he groped for the words.