Chapter Twelve
Twelve
Reece
“Oh, you fucking like that, don’t you,” Cyrus rasped against the shell of my ear, the soft pads of his lips tickling my skin with each of his words. “I knew you wanted me to fuck you from the moment we met. It’s the tentacles. It’s always the tentacles.”
One of the thick tendrils snaked up my abdomen, over my chest, and around my neck. It lightly squeezed the sides of my throat, just tight enough to make speech difficult.
“Tell me what you want, Reece,” he whispered as he kissed along my jawline, right where my beard met the column of my neck. His tentacles wrapped over my chest and waist, and he pulled me tighter against him.
The arousal I felt over being at Cyrus’s mercy was heady, and my cock was so fucking hard.
I wanted him.
No, I needed him.
“Please fuck me,” I grated out, the words strangled by the pressure on my neck.
Cyrus let out a dark chuckle and nipped playfully at my earlobe, pulling hard enough for me to hiss, but not nearly hard enough to draw blood. His webbed hands slid down my body until they caught on the straps of the lace thong around my hips.
“Mmm,” he hummed. “Did you wear this just for me?”
I’d always had an interest in lingerie—the feel of the fabrics, the stark contrast of lace against a masculine form—but I’d never been with someone I felt comfortable wearing something like that around.
At least, not until now.
I gave a slow nod and Cyrus’s tongues darted out, licking the side of my face in one slow stroke.
“We’re going to have a lot of fun playing together.” Cyrus tugged the strap of my thong and I moaned as it snapped against my skin with a sharp sting.
He pulled down the thong, freeing my cock from the confines of the lace, rubbing slow circles over my hip to ease the sting.
“Look at you,” he said as one of his tentacles traveled around the base of my cock. “You’re so fucking pathetic. So horny for me.”
“Cyrus,” I groaned as he pumped my cock with soft, slick strokes.
It was so smooth, and the suckers added a pleasant dragging sensation each time they attached to my skin.
“Gods, Reece. Your cock is a fucking work of art, you know that? So perfect.” Cyrus swirled his hips against my ass in unison with the strokes of his tentacle. “And this body. I’m going to enjoy worshipping it. Making you come again and again.”
I whimpered and leaned against him, pushing my ass out, practically begging him to fuck me.
“So impatient,” he purred as one of his tentacles slid down my back and teased along my crack.
The slick tip found my hole and swirled gently around the entrance, coating it with lube. A moan slipped past my lips as it breached my tight entrance.
“That’s it. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?” Cyrus asked as the tip of his tentacle swirled inside me.
“F-fuck yes,” I sputtered, my voice hoarse because the tentacle still gripped my neck. “Harder. Please.”
Cyrus let out another laugh, his fingers tangling in my hair before he wrenched my head back. “Oh, you want it harder? Deeper, hmm?”
“Please, Cyrus.” I wasn’t above begging, at least not for this, not for him.
The tentacle ventured deeper, stretching me around it as it widened, until what I presumed were suckers rubbed against the rim of my hole.
“Tell me you want them.”
“I want them,” I panted.
“Want what?”
“Your suckers. I want your suckers inside me.” The tentacle stroking my cock squeezed tighter and I groaned. If—when—Cyrus started playing with my prostate, there was no way I was going to last.
“Good boy,” he said, and the tentacle lurched forward, twisting and turning as the suckers breached my entrance again and again.
It was like a series of anal beads that could go on and on forever. I’d never felt anything like it.
“Shit!” I moaned and trembled against Cyrus’s body.
“See, there’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re getting tentacle fucked and you love it, you needy little mess. But I know what you want. You want to feel my suckers on your prostate, don’t you?”
The tentacle inside me continued to thrust in and out, twirling as it did so.
I wasn’t capable of coherent speech, so I simply whined and nodded my head against Cyrus’s harsh grip on my hair.
“All right, I guess I’ll let you come,” Cyrus huffed.
His grip on my neck tightened as the tentacle inside me found my prostate. It swirled mercilessly over the fleshy bead before one of the suckers attached to it—and attached hard.
“Ahh. Fuck,” I panted, trembling against Cyrus as the suction teased my prostate.
The tentacle on my cock stroked faster and another coiled around my balls to hold them in a tight grip.
“Come for me, baby,” Cyrus said and pressed his soft lips against the patch of skin behind my ear.
A tingling sensation started in my balls and a strangled noise crept out of my throat.
My body jolted as I came, and thick spurts of cum shot out of my cock, coating Cyrus’s tentacles.
“Yes,” he moaned.
Slowly, the tentacle around my neck loosened and gently massaged the area where it had strangled me.
I slumped against Cyrus as the last waves of my orgasm washed over me.
“You did so well,” Cyrus whispered against my neck. He crossed his arms over my chest, holding me tight against him. “And when you’re ready, we’ll do it again.”
—
“Fuck!” I bolted upright at the sound of my alarm, my mind feeling fuzzy and disoriented.
A pillow was pressed tight to my crotch, and when I slid it away, there was a sizable wet patch covering the front of my briefs.
“Oh no. Fuck no. No. No. No,” I groaned, recalling the dream I had before my alarm woke me up for training.
I threaded my hands through my hair and fell back against my pillows.
This couldn’t be happening.
I’d had a wet dream.
About Cyrus.
I didn’t even know where to begin when it came to unpacking this.
I mean, these things happened to guys all the time.
I’d had plenty of wet dreams about my friends when I was in high school and even fantasies about weird shit.
But maybe Dream Cyrus was right.
Maybe it was the tentacles.
It’s always the tentacles.
What was it Jimenez said the other day about anime? I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and did a quick search for tentacle porn.
There was image after image of tentacles filling orifices. Mouths, pussies, asses. If there was a hole, someone had thought about a tentacle going inside it.
I scrolled down until an anime video titled “Yaoi Tentacle Monster” caught my attention.
My finger hovered over the clip before I slammed it down hard on my phone screen. I needed to do this.
I had to know.
In the animation, a slender guy was being restrained and spread open like a starfish by a giant tentacle monster.
A tentacle monster that looked terrifying.
It was nowhere near as attractive as Cyrus.
Tentacles slithered over the guy’s body until one filled his mouth, another filled his ass, and one stroked his cock.
As the monster worked him over, the guy whined and groaned, his body bucking against the restraints. I guess to the right person it was hot, but I didn’t find it particularly attractive.
I tossed my phone away and clenched my eyes shut, but my thoughts drifted back to my dream.
Of how assertive Cyrus had been, like he was when he trained me.
How his tentacles would feel wrapped around my throat and stroking my cock.
The soft press of his lips against my skin, and how he would feel inside me.
My cock hardened and strained against the damp material of my briefs.
Fuck.
This was happening.
It wasn’t just the tentacles.
It was Cyrus.