Chapter Twenty
Rick’s tentacles curled around Max. “We could have competitive yoga sex.” The words sank into Max’s skin, making his cock harden.
“Competitive sex is some of my favorite sex,” Max said.
“But you can’t cheat by starting on top.
” Rick was oddly fond of racing to the orgasm, or the alien version of it when the mating slit would open on his tentacle.
If Max came before that happened, Rick won and he would brag for a good week.
If Max could make that slit relax and open, he won.
Although as far as Max was concerned, everyone won at competitive sex, no matter what happened to the various reproductive tentacles involved.
“I do not require unfair advantage. I can win without.” Rick slid to the side while pressing a small tentacle against the corner of Max’s mouth.
The tip slipped into Max’s mouth while more tentacles slipped under his pants.
Max was in danger of losing before the competition began because he couldn’t stop his back from arching or a moan from escaping.
Rick rumbled, probably already sure he would win.
But Max had the advantage of clothing. His pants would slow Rick down.
Meanwhile, he wrapped his arm around a tentacle and pulled, gently at first. Since they’d arrived on this cursed planet, they hadn’t spent much time together.
So pressing his body against Rick’s fed a deep hunger in Max’s soul.
He had missed this the way he might miss water or food or air.
He couldn’t imagine living without his husband.
Rick’s tentacles shivered and he made a chittering cry as Max rocked his hips against the tentacle that was pressed against his perineum.
“Spending time together is pleasurable, but you will reach your maximum pleasure first,” Max vowed.
He caught a red-tipped tentacle and tugged.
When he didn’t get a reaction, he pulled a little harder.
Before he could set a grueling pace of irregular pulls, Rick completed a complex set of maneuvers: he lifted Max’s leg and pushed his pants off in one quick movement.
Max threw his hands to the sides, losing his leverage as a startled gasp escaped.
Max’s cock throbbed with need, and Rick took that moment of distraction to slide a sneaky, slicked tentacle up his ass with no warning. Max cried out, his voice ragged with need.
“Fucking hell,” Max cursed.
“Fucking, yes. Hell, no,” Rick countered.
His tentacle stroked over Max’s prostate, and Max dug his heels into the mattress, thrusting into the tentacles curled around his cock and balls.
His skin was hot and every touch magnified until Max was writhing with need while tentacles teased and traced figures against his sweat-stained skin.
But Max was not built for surrender. He would not yield the win so easily.
He gritted his teeth against the lust that made his body tighten and grabbed two tentacles.
He jerked them, hard and fast, pulling Rick off balance.
Rick tumbled toward him, his hat sliding off onto the mattress and a half dozen tentacles catching him before he landed face-first on Max.
“Unfair,” Rick rumbled, straining to lift himself from the awkward position.
“This is war and love, so all is fair,” Max said.
His pulse steadied now that he had space to take a few deep breaths and he set an irregular pace, jerking at a small tentacle in his right hand while his left danced about, gripping, pulling, and releasing whatever tentacles he could reach.
Somewhere along the way, pulling tentacles had become an errotic act.
A sinful one. It made his pulse race almost as much as the tentacle in his ass did.
Max clenched around the length in him, and Rick counterattacked, the tentacle around his cock sliding and thrusting until Max lost the ability to breath.
A whimper escaped. Max brought his legs up, hooking them around Rick.
It left his ass exposed, and a second tentacle wiggled in next to the first. The stretch was shy of painful, stuffing him so full that Max arched his back, desperate for that extra bit of pressure that would push him over into perfect bliss.
But this wasn’t sex; this was competitive sex.
He forced himself to push a foot between the tentacles holding him captive and thrash.
The jerkiness must have scratched some itch deep in Rick’s soul because his tentacles curled and stiffened and jerked until something went flying off the bedside table, shattering against the wall.
For one second, Max thought he had won. He had made Rick lose all control.
But then Rick surged against him, pressing their bodies together and curling the tentacle in his ass.
The hard edge of his orgasm crashed into Max, stealing his vision and making him scream.
Instead of backing off, Rick pressed harder, the tentacles around Max’s cock and balls undulating and twitching as Max thrust into them.
Raw hunger ruled Max, stealing his ability to think or breathe or do anything other than feel the muscled tentacles surrounding him, the smooth skin, the delicate fingers along the underside of each arm, the warm slick between their bodies.
Max clung to two of those strong tentacles, feeling the muscle contract as Rick’s lusty grunts filled the air.
The coordinated dance of tentacles devolved into something more desperate and hungry and wild.
Max arched his back and Rick pulled him close, flipping them so Max was on top, a fish caught on a line and flopping gracelessly.
At least that’s what he felt like as waves of his orgasm made him lurch and twist.
Finger tentacles caught at his hair, his toes, his cock, his nipples. Max was becoming one over-sensitive nerve.
He’d lost. He had completely lost and it was glorious.
Max wrapped his legs around Rick’s walking tentacle and held on to the hard, muscled form. He thrust against it once then twice before he came with long spurts of cum.
Rick flipped them around again so Max was on the bed, and tentacles slipped free, leaving Max to shiver at the slide of skin against skin and the feeling of loss as they detangled their limbs.
It was so nice having a lover with extra limbs.
It made sex so much more interesting. It left him trembling with pleasure, lust coiling through him the way Rick’s tentacles curled and coiled.
“Fuck,” Max whispered, his breath ragged as he panted. His body needed oxygen, but he couldn’t seem to remember how to breathe.
“Yes,” Rick agreed, and that was a smug tone.
Max might have taken offense only Rick had a right to be a little smug.
He was a sex god. A tentacley sex god. If it weren’t for their deep commitment to monogamy, Rick could make millions with his tentacles.
Billions. God knows Max would sell everything he owned for a good tumble in the bed. He might even sell his soul.
“I won,” Rick said. He massaged Max’s shoulders, firm pressure making flares of pleasure race down his spine.
“You won,” Max agreed. Max closed his eyes, happy to let Rick claim his prize.
At one point, Max would have felt guilty about being a selfish lover, but now he knew how much Rick valued this time, the gentle touches, the deep pressure massage, the ability to move Max’s pliant body around the bed, arranging limbs as he liked.
Max drifted through bliss, constantly at the edge of sleep and groaning as Rick touched every part of him, found every sore muscle and soothed it, massaged away every tense muscle.
“I love you,” Max muttered.
Rick paused and settled his weight onto Max’s back. Huh. He was laying on his stomach. When had that happened?
“I love you so much that I value your life over mine,” Rick answered.
That made Max fight his way toward consciousness. “Don’t say that.”
“I speak truth.”
“I don’t have a happy life without you. You are my happiness and my love.
” Max needed Rick to understand that. After seeing what Einstein had resorted to, Max needed his husband to know the truth.
“I wouldn’t care if you had some terrible accident and lost all your tentacles. You would still be my happy place.”
“You are illogical.”
“I am illogically in love with you,” Max agreed.
For a time, Rick rested on Max’s back, tracing designs against his shoulders. “We are illogical together,” he said.
“We are. I hope we are illogically in love for many, many years.”
“All the years,” Rick said. “Einstein chose poorly. He thought being asked for his great ideas was pleasure. He did not understand illogical love. He did not understand family.”
Max winced. “Most of your people don’t. You, husband of mine, are a special Hidden one because you see a truth that your people don’t understand.”
“I am very smart.”
Max laughed and pulled his arm from under the weight of the tentacles pinning it to the bed so he could playfully tug at his husband. “When you’re not being an idiot, you are an absolute genius.”
Rick blew raspberries against his back. They’d had a difficult visit, but they’d be fine. They had each other, and that was the only thing that mattered. Everything else–everything from cranky government officials to crazy family members–was secondary.
Tomorrow they would sort that out, but tonight.... “Turn the lights off and let’s catch up on some sleep.”
“And snuggling. If I were to chart time snuggling, we would be in a statistically significant period of decline.” Rick sounded unhappy about that.
“That is unacceptable,” Max said. “I demand more time snuggling.”
“Agreed.” Rick grabbed his hat with a particularly long arm tentacle and pressed the light’s remote. The lights went dark and the windows dimmed, blocking all but a dim glimmer of light from outside. Then Rick settled in on Max’s back again, pulling the covers over both of them.