The night was crystal clear, and as the sun went down, the first stars dotting the sky, John knew it was time to explore their next lead on the unending quest to discover (and sometimes destroy) everything supernatural in the sleepy forests of the Pacific Northwest. After all, when the stars were clear in the sky Jade’s plants bloomed the brightest and Rose’s personal magic was at it’s most potent—leaving them in the perfect position to work from their “HQ”, providing information and working hard to make all sorts of potion-like concoctions to keep everyone on their feet. For Dave and himself—neither of them particularly magical—the job was a little more hands on. He watched appreciatively as Dave hauled some freshly sharpened daggers and knives into the back of their inconspicuous Toyota Corolla, the blades hidden in a similarly non-threatening duffle bag.
To any outsiders, John figured they looked like two twenty somethings going on a night hike. They might have looked like stoners, but Dave carried a water bottle and John tugged around a first aid kit, shattering the illusion of worry free youth set on wasting time in the dark together. And night hiking! John smiled to himself at the thought of doing something so innocent and domestic, the two of them going somewhere private to look at the stars without all that grimy light pollution, not another human soul for miles. He kept smiling, even as shrugged his favourite hunting jacket on, all the useless buttons and hooks giving him the appearance of someone more physically equipped to deal with the whims of the supernatural.
Dave dressed in his own equivalent of readiness, stealing John’s early morning grocery run jacket—like John wouldn’t notice how out of place any piece of athletic clothing would look on his sportsphobic boyfriend—and the two of them settled comfortably in their cozy little car, John manning the wheel while Dave took it upon himself to decide what music they’d be enjoying on their mini road trip.
“Hey Dave, are we eating before or after?”
He heard the click of a tongue against teeth, Dave’s head leaning back to look at the discrete grey felt of the ceiling before he responded.
“After. It’s a taco sort of day, ain’t it? And I don’t really want tacos in me for this.”
One of those days then. John smiled, pleased with the implications of Dave’s words, and reached over to rub a hand on his knee.
Finally content with his song choice, Dave let the quiet music fill the car, turning to glance out the window as they drew further away from the lights of the city. Each mile brought them closer to both the dark waters of Puget Sound and the industrial areas around the docks, and all the abandoned factories left from businesses failing or moving.
“Just trying to get some photos and shit today, right?” Dave shifted, trying to gather where they were headed as John turned back inland a little—still in a distinctly industrial area, but one that left less of a taste of brine in the back of their throats.
“Yeah,” John turned the car once more, and finally slowed to a halt outside the factory Rose and Jade had provided. He frowned, leaning towards the windshield to better assess the building, which was so thoroughly abandoned that he was surprised it was even standing upright at all, moss and rust visible where his headlights shone on the building. “Rose said there’s been a few sightings from kids who hang out around here, something with a lot of arms. But it hasn’t hurt anyone yet, so she doesn’t think we need to kill it.”
Dave stepped out, kicking an abandoned beer bottle that lay on the gravel John had parked. “Makes sense. Shitholes like this don’t offer a lot unless you’re a kid or a monster.”
“Mmhm, or a serial killer, but I think we would’ve heard about it if the kids had found dead bodies,” John made his way to the back of the car, handing Dave his trusty knife (enchanted by Rose, made with love and just enough sibling rivalry), as well as his camera. His own weapon of choice was a steel bat, the tip coated with silver, paired with a heavy flashlight that doubled as an emergency weapon if he threw it hard enough.
Despite how professional they looked as they headed towards the warehouse, John wasn’t surprised when Dave squirrelled up to his side and pressed a few tender kisses to his neck, hanging himself off of John’s arm as he whispered into his ear. “If we can’t find this bad boy you better believe I’m gonna help you find a cocksucking cryptid to drain your balls dry.”
He felt a shiver run down his spine despite his better instincts, but he still shoved Dave and gave him an offended groan, putting some distance between them. “Congrats Dave, my dick just shrivelled up and died because of you.”
“Guess I’m into necrophilia now.”
“I don’t know why I love you Dave. I think I might have made a mistake saying yes when you asked me out. Are you sure there’s no take backsies? Can I still back out of this?” he reached over to hold Dave’s hand anyway, thumb rubbing against his palm. “Is your camera ready?”
It must’ve taken him a while to set up with only one hand—not that Dave had been complaining—but then he nodded at the question and John was pulled eagerly along, leaving behind the safety of moonlight in favour of the thick, stifling darkness of the warehouse. Dave dropped John’s hand to secure the camera better, and John flicked on his flashlight, shining it in front of him as they walked.
For all intents and purposes, it looked like any old abandoned warehouse. Chains hung from the ceiling, and several boxes were scattered near one corner of the room, arranged to suggest that a group of people had been using the space for social gatherings. If that wasn’t enough of a sign that the warehouse was unmonitored by authorities and whatever sorry set of assholes owned the land, graffiti adorned nearly every inch of the metal walls. It was varied, from tags to hastily written slogans obviously done by someone who had little artistic skill, all of it the only source colour aside from the deep rusty reds and mossy greens.
Tonight though, there was nobody hanging around, and John let out a sigh of relief as that sank in. The worst nights were always those where they had to deal with people drunk or stoned or tripping on acid while they coaxed out a supernatural entity. Or, worse, trying to convince a bunch of rebellious teenagers that they were police officers when John had a baseball bat and Dave had a vocabulary that only sustained itself through repeated use of profanities.
Dave walked up to one of the patches of amateur graffiti, the words written in a garish neon yellow. “Hey Egbert, it’s after ten, right?” He had the camera up, aimed at the words on the wall, but his body obstructed them from John’s view.
“Yeah. Ten twenty, why?”
“Says here our monster starts hanging around after ten.” He turned back around, camera scanning the room as John approached and got a good look at the words, messy script begging to visitors:
‘something shows up every night
always after ten
“Dude, this definitely looks like something a bunch of kids would write to keep people off their turf. Look at all the beer bottles under the words!”
Dave shrugged, kicking a few pieces of rubble that were lying on the ground. “Yeah, sure, ‘cept Rose sent us here so it probably ain’t that, dumbass. Besides, being a vandal is thirsty work.”
“I’m just saying! It’s a little suspicious is all. They didn’t even say what it looked like except that it had a lot of arms. What even has a lot of arms dude? Mothman?”
“An octopus.” Dave’s voice sounded more distant, a sign he was intent on something, and then spoke without turning. “C’mere, I found something freaky over here, you’re gonna wanna see this.”
While Dave didn’t sound like he was in any immediate danger, John still rushed to his side as fast as he could, crouching down behind him with a concerned arm already bracing itself on Dave’s back. But there wasn’t a pool of blood or guts on the cracked concrete like he’d expected, and instead a small tentacle peeked out, moving almost curiously in the air, as if searching its surroundings.
“Ew, what the fuck is this? Did Cthulhu lose a baby?” John’s nose scrunched up in disgust, and while he was tempted to touch it, what little self-preservation he still had kept him from doing that. Instead, he stared pointedly at it, even as Dave’s interest clearly grew. His protective hand never left Dave’s back, even as his boyfriend leaned the camera in closer for a better look at the strange tendril poking intently at the ground. “It looks like a penis.”
Dave didn’t take his eyes off the creature—which was relieving, and soothed John’s worries that he would turn around to say something and end up strangled and killed by an errant tentacle. There were a lot of bad ways to go, but that was almost definitely up there near the top of the list. It might even end up as one of the thousand ways to die. Still, Dave didn’t look anywhere near as concerned as John, and he eventually noted, “it looks cute, asshole, stop insulting it,” John could only scoff, even as Dave continued, “it ain’t creepy enough to be some edgy horrorterror shit. Hell, it’s probably just a sentient octopus arm that lost its body, God imbued the poor fucker with the magic of life and now it fucks around in this warehouse trying to get back to the sea. I bet it’s harmless, poke it with your bat, we can just go dump it back where it belongs and some fish can eat it. Circle of life complete.”
“What? No! What if it crushes it? We don’t know how strong it is!”
“Jade can make you a new one you cheap asshole. Come ooon, Youtube needs to see what this thing does. Science doesn’t advance by refusing to poke shit with big sticks.”
He wanted to say no. This bat was special and he loved it, but it was almost impossible to refuse Dave when he wanted something, and after a bit of grumbling John gave in and adjusted his bat in his hand, offering it out to the still exploring tentacle.
There hadn’t really been much consideration over whether maybe more tentacle would come out of the ground, and both of them had taken a startled step back just in time for his bat to be firmly secured by the creature, it’s smooth form coiling around the metal as it began to rub against it.
John shifted backwards, uncomfortable by the scene unfolding in front of him, but a quick glance at his boyfriend revealed just how interested he was, even going so far as to shift closer to it. He probably would have touched the undulating tentacle if John hadn’t grabbed his arm and jerked him back, holding him close even as Dave’s free hand stayed firmly pointed at the thoroughly claimed bat. “Don’t just touch it, jesus Dave! What if it’s covered in some sort of acid?” His bat didn’t look like it was being destroyed, but metal wasn’t the same thing as skin and looks could be deceiving when almost all of the bat was obscured by tentacle, an alarming amount coming out of the ground at this point.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the circumstances changed. A light breeze blew into the warehouse, bringing the scent of the ocean. It was barely noticeable to John, making only the lightest hairs on his head shift, but it blew past them before the shifting tentacle, and John watched with a level of abject horror as it stopped massaging his bat and instead shot straight up.
It almost appeared to sniff the air, sensing the presences it couldn’t before, before it lunged faster than John could stop at Dave. Of course it would pick him, John thought, when he only had one hand free to scramble backwards on, not nearly fast enough to get away. And before John could even begin to react, it’d wrapped itself around Dave’s ankle and begun to stroke.
John moved to grab onto the offending tendril, intending to rip it off of Dave before he could be boa constricted in it’s grip, but Dave grabbed his wrist, staring down at the thing as it wound its way higher. “Egbert, babe, sweetheart, honeybun, chill. It ain’t hurting me. You got to touch the ectoplasm that one time, let me have this.”
“Yeah but that was like, ghost poop, not the ghost! Besides, since when have you wanted to be fondled by a wiggly limb emerging from the ground? That’s weird Dave!” He was shifting nervously, hands clenching into fists even as Dave drew calmer the longer he sat there with a tentacle on him without dying.
“You didn’t know if it was gonna be acid or some shit, lemme have a turn getting freaky with the supernatural. Maybe I just wanna play hentai with this thing, is that so weird?”
“Yes, actually!” But Dave made a good point, and despite the fact that John wanted nothing more than to rip the tentacle off of Dave and rescue him from his own curiosity (and horniness, apparently,) he respected Dave’s judgement enough to let himself settle down his chin resting on Dave’s shoulder as the tendril thoroughly explored his left leg.
Eventually, it started to become amusing to him. Their adventure had effectively gone from ‘getting eaten by Cthulhu’ to ‘playing in the wading pool at the aquarium’ in terms of badness, and there was something pretty amusing about watching Dave’s calf get felt up by a disembodied, smooth octopus limb. He shifted, pressing a kiss to Dave’s cheek, a teasing smile on his face. “It probably just likes you because you’re warm, right?”
The look Dave gifted him with caused a laugh to bubble past his lips, before he’d rolled his eyes and turned back to watching his leg be taken over, thighs spreading open to accommodate the exploration. Most of the tendril had left again, back to wherever it’d been, but the end portion was happily exploring. “You’re kidding me dude, you’ve gotta be. You’re the one who said it looked like a fucking penis. This thing definitely wants to pound my ass like I’m a pretty lady in a hentai begging to be knocked up with baby tentacle freaks. Besides, it looks like a disembodied cock, you think this bad boy ain’t built for fucking?”
“Actually Dave, I think you’re just horny for hentai, and everything looks like a cock if you try hard enough,” he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as he teased his boyfriend about his fun new fetish, one hand moving to stroke down his free thigh. Judging by the growing redness on his face, it was clear he was interested, but John’s own skin felt flushed at the thought as well, and Dave’s clear intent had planted all sorts of thoughts about his boyfriend in all sorts of positions.
Either Dave was thinking the same things, or he had been ever since he’d found the thing, because he spread his legs wide and invited the tentacle to start prodding at the warmth between his legs. It did so immediately, and he glanced back at John, a smug look plastered on his face. “See, I fucking told you so.”
And that could have been it. John knew Dave, and he knew if he expressed even a tad too much worry the mood would be killed, and the two of them would have stood up, grabbed John’s bat, and left. The tentacle had proved itself to be benign and hopefully harmless, even if it was hiding potential miles of itself under the ground, and they had a bunch of good film that Dave could fuck up to make it look just fake enough that people would watch and rewatch to try and determine authenticity. But there was something warm curling in John’s gut, something curious and aroused that led his hand to the fly of Dave’s jeans. “We won’t know for sure unless you let it try and get inside, right Dave? What if it really does just like how warm you are. You’re burning up,” his voice grown low and husky somewhere along the line, the words toeing the line between teasing and shamelessly tempting.
For a moment, only the tentacle moved. Then Dave lifted his hips, John pulled his pants and boxers down and off, tossing them safely aside, and the moment truth had come. With Dave’s legs spread shamelessly wide, John’s hands holding them open, the curious tentacle resumed petting his thigh—examining the expanse of skin exposed to it.
“It isn’t hurting you, right Dave?” There was concern in John’s voice, but he still held Dave’s thighs tight, forcing him to stay exposed, feeling the muscles twitch when the tentacle bumped against his balls, investigating.
Dave shook his head firmly, but then grabbed John’s wrist, sucking in a sharp breath. “It’s slimy, fuck, John. It’s for real. You can’t convince me that ain’t for this.”
John could see what he meant Dave had pointed it out, a thin sheen of something shiny and wet on the previously dry tendril, spreading onto Dave’s skin as it kept prodding, poking Dave’s balls and the half chub he was definitely sporting, the tip shifting lower to start pressing at his entrance.
He felt Dave’s head roll back to rest it on John’s shoulder, peering up at him with bright red eyes, a lazy smile on his face as the tendril prodded against his asshole, smearing lube against the skin. “Your dick still dead there Egbert?”
“God no,” he breathed out the words, pushing Dave’s thighs open just a bit further. “You resurrected it. Good job. Are you going to let this thing fuck you?”
“Yeah, I think so,” he shifted his weight back a little, giving the tentacle more access. “Gotta knock tentacle fucking off the bucket list one way or another. When life gives you tentacles and all that jazz.”
The tentacle was growing more insistent with it’s prodding, pressing harder at Dave’s entrance—now thoroughly slick with the lube it’d imperceptibly oozed. It prompted them both into silence, Dave’s eyes squeezing shut while John’s stared openly at the spectacle, watching it poke and prod and push until it managed to breech its way inside. Dave gasped, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists, and John swallowed hard as his cock twitched with definite interest.
“Does it hurt?” He could see the slither-like motion of the tendril, implying that it was wiggling its way in further, and John’s fingers itched at his sides, ready to rip it out should he have to.
But Dave shook his head, fingers slowly unclenching as he went limp in John’s arms, that easy smile returning as the tentacle worked its way steadily inside of him, curling and shifting against places that John was sure even his long fingers couldn’t quite massage. He would have worried that it was hurting Dave, something thick like that pushing inside of him, but the tentacle looked soft and giving, and it’d created enough of it’s natural lubricant that a quick shine of his flashlight showed a sheen of wetness. He swallowed hard, imagining how the slow slide into Dave left his insides coated with a thick layer of slickness. Mirroring his thoughts, Dave groaned, arching his back against John. “It feels good, Christ I knew this was a good idea.”
For John, just watching was enough—at least for the moment. It was just as new and novel to watch Dave being fucked by something he wasn’t controlling as it was for Dave to be doing it with something else, and John satisfied himself by palming his growing arousal through his pants with one hand, while the other traced comforting circles into Dave’s thighs, and his boyfriend’s ragged breaths grew into eager, breathy moans.
He nipped at Dave’s ear, breathing into it. “Tell me what it feels like Dave.”
“Feels like it’s fucking twisting, god, right up on the good spots, it feels fucking amazing,” his words came out desperate and John laughed at him, pressing tender kisses to Dave’s skin while the tentacle kept fucking him. He looked like there was nowhere else in the world he wanted to be, except for right there, tucked up against John while he got pounded into. The situation was weird and absurd, but so was a lot of their work, and John felt a rush of fondness in his chest at seeing Dave so pleased, brushing soft hair from his forehead before it became slick with sweat.
Admittedly, he wasn’t surprised when another tendril emerged from where it’s companion had been discovered, even though he sat up straighter when he saw it. It matched the description of what they’d come here for, and the thought of a tentacle monster with only one tendril was laughable. Even acceptable non-sexual creatures with tentacles that didn’t live under abandoned werehouses, like squids and jellyfish and octopi all had more than one floppy limb. He’d sat up because he wanted to be alert, but alertness didn’t stop John from going still with shock—aside from a small yelp—when it wrapped itself suddenly around his wrist, jerking his hand away from Dave and towards his own pants.
Seemingly startled by John’s sudden movement, Dave turned, and John couldn’t have missed the sly grin that spread across his face if he’d tried. He obviously enjoyed the turn of events, and at the sight of a tentacle manhandling his boyfriend, his own hand reached over to give John’s cock a squeeze through his jeans. “Give it a shot Egbert, only fair that I get a look at you too.”
John raised an eyebrow at that—if only because he knew Dave liked showing off more than watching-- but Dave was quick to moan and glance back at the tentacle still sliding into him, giving it an accusatory glare for distracting him, and John found his hands moving on autopilot to put the flashlight down safely on the ground and tug his pants down. “I’m only doing this because you look like someone dropped you head first in boner city. This better not just be your anal kink Dave, I swear to god.”
“Scout’s honour,” his voice was strained, but Dave licked his lips and grinned at the sight, eyeing John up shamelessly.
John’s pants were barely off, trapped around his thighs as he kneeled on the cold ground, and with Dave’s eyes trained unwaveringly on him he grabbed the tentacle on his wrist and untangled himself, guiding it downwards. Seemingly somewhat aware of it’s surroundings, the tentacle writhed free from his wrist to wrap around his ankle instead, grounding itself just in time for John to regain control and guide the slippery tentacle into place. His hold on it became loose, holding it steady rather than moving it, and he let in a sharp breath as the tendril prodded insistently at the tight pucker of his ass. It felt like it was teasing him, playing with him where he was most sensitive, until it suddenly pressed harder and slid home. With the tip inside, the rest sank easily into him, prodding its way deep into his ass.
He heard the familiar sound of Dave’s laugh, airy with disbelief at the whole situation, before it was cut off by a choked moan, and when John’s eyes focused again he watched the tendril inside Dave as it moved. It was undulating fast enough he could actually see it moving, and John could only assume it was abuse on his sweet spots that was making his boyfriend’s cock twitch like a caffeine addict after a few shots of espresso. He gaped at the sight, unable to look away even as the tentacle inside him picked up the pace to match, making his toes curl in his socks. Dave’s gaze met his, even through the barrier of his shades, and John shifted closer, trying to navigate the pants around his ankles and the tendril jabbing into him so insistently, reaching out with one trembling hand to pull his boyfriend close.
Dave beat him there, smiling up at John so broadly it felt like the sun was shining on him. “It’s a lot, ain’t it?” He didn’t look at all concerned about the expressions John was sure his face was contorting into, effortlessly reaching up to readjust his glasses and caress his face. Using the touch to ground himself, John squeezed his eyes shut rather than answering, a groan escaping him when the tentacle coiled easily inside of him, jabbing against his prostate while still leaving him helplessly full of monster pseudocock. When he opened his eyes, Dave was still smiling, wholly transfixed on him. Despite the position he was in, that attention was what made his temperature skyrocket.
Dave shifted, rolling off his back and onto his knees to take his shirt off. The tentacle inside of him seemed to still—or, at least, stop thrusting so hard—giving him a moment of reprieve, but it was quick to start up again once Dave tossed the shirt off to the side with his long abandoned pants. John began to do the same thing, hands moving to take off his jacket, but more tendrils grabbed onto him and forced his still clothed arms above his head. He groaned, frustrated at the impediment, and Dave snorted out a laugh, moving closer. He undid John’s shoes for him, and tugged his pants off to put them with his own clothes, but left him clothed from the waist up. John pouted, even as Dave straddled him, hands easily pushing his shirt up, palms flat and warm on his skin in the chill of the room.
“They’re being a lot nicer to you Dave, I think they’re bullying me. Sexually,” he jerked his arms to make a point, glaring at the offending tendrils and his unhelpful boyfriend. But when Dave went in for a kiss, he still leaned in and reciprocated, his frustration seeping out of him with each passing second.
They were both panting when they pulled away, a string of spit between them that only broke when Dave licked his lips, drawing John’s eyes to them—swollen as they were already. He saw them curl upwards into a smile, Dave’s finger dragged along John’s own lips, pressing the tip insistently enough to prompt John to suck lightly, even as he eyed him with just a hint of distrust. “You’re just too fucking irresistible, can you blame them?” His other hand brushed sweaty bangs from John’s face, and gently cupped his cheek, smiling fondly down at him. “I’d fuck you up pretty good too if I was some sort of eldritch hentai abomination.”
Biting his finger lightly, John grinned, at ease once more. He didn’t feel nearly as worried knowing just how into this Dave was, and a little bondage wasn’t going to ruin his life. “Such a flatterer. I’m flattered. Tell me more about how you’d hold me hostage to be your octopus slut Dave. I think you’re in cahoots with the tentadicks.”
They kissed again, open mouthed and just on the edge of sloppy, but the insistent prodding of tentacles inside of them started up again, reminding them both of their unsatisfied guests. John pulled away from Dave to look, only to see even more tentacles had emerged, to the point where he couldn’t quite count them past the haze of arousal and their ceaseless writhing. He groaned, feeling one worm it’s way under his back, while Dave shifted his hips and made a quiet, unmistakable sound.
“Already Dave?” All he got in response was a shuddering moan, Dave’s forehead a pressing firmly onto his shoulder. It wasn’t surprising—he’d always been a slut for having things up his ass-- but John felt briefly disappointed that he couldn’t see both tentacles fucking his boyfriend from his current position, especially with Dave so eagerly grinding on him, desperately trying to drive himself over the edge. Not that he could dwell on it for long, something solid and slick with lubrication sliding up the dip between his pecs, rubbing against him like it could get off that way. Maybe it could, and the thought that he could be used in so many different ways sent his head spinning.
Dave only made his grip on his self-control worse, adjusting quickly to the second tentacle. It gave him a lot more freedom, and he used it to shift and grip John, tongue dragging up the hard nub of his right nipple. He knew they were sensitive, they’d been together for so long it’d be hard to not know by now that he could pinch them through John’s shirt and give him a chub if he wanted, and yet he teased him all the same. It wasn’t fair, John was already wound up enough, and yet Dave abused his weak point John couldn’t help but let out a long, low groan of approval, his back arching to push his chest up against Dave’s hot, wet mouth.
The tentacle inside of him was still moving through it all, pace alternating between slow, overwhelmingly deep undulations and fast thrusts that made it curl and knot into something thicker inside of him. His cock ached, largely untouched, all his attention divided between the fucking and the tentacle grinding on his chest and Dave, moaning out his own enjoyment even as he turned John’s nipples bright red from abuse. He wouldn’t be able to cum like this, but somehow that was better and torturously worse—knowing he could be held on this plateau of bliss for as long as Dave and their tentacle partner wanted.
The sensations all blurred together for long enough that John began to tremble, hands balling into fists where they were held above his head, mouth open near constantly to let out his steady stream of moans.
Then Dave went still, his mouth stopping its torturous abuse on John’s nipples, body shaking with orgasm, and he finally reached down between them to grab John’s cock. He jerked John off like he was in some sort of handjob competition, thumb rubbing against the tip the way John liked it best, hand firm and unforgiving—until John hit his own orgasm, cum shooting to land on his stomach and chest. His vision whited out, back arching and thighs trembling, Dave still stroking him as he came, dragging his orgasm out. It forced the aftershocks to keep coming, and as he clenched down hard on the tentacle inside him it swelled and came as well, leaving a thick load inside him as a reward.
He opened one eye, watching as three messy tentacles retreated, before turning his attention to Dave. There was an afterglow starting to settle in already, his eyes becoming heavy. Then Dave opened his mouth to speak. “Hey John, can you keep it together long enough to stick it in my ass?”
Like before, it would’ve been easy to shake his head and be done with it. He was tired, sticky with cum, and his brain felt like it was filled with cotton. But he was young and dumb and horny, and some small part of him relished in the thought of moving around on auto-pilot as he thoughtlessly did what Dave and the strange creature they’d found wanted. And, above all that, John’s trust for Dave was wholly unwavering- he knew he’d be safe even if his brain was more scattered than a thousand-piece puzzle.
Dave must have recognized the exhaustion settling into John’s bones, quick to help him onto his knees, his touch gentle. He only paused to occasionally stroke John’s cock, keeping him from softening up, or to press loving kisses onto the exposed skin of his neck. It was all overwhelming at first, making him cringe away in oversensitivity, but that same young insatiable horniness that had caused him to say yes proved to be his saviour, and the overstimulation settled into something manageable soon enough, before returning right back to arousal, his cock hard as it bobbed in the air.
With Dave’s assistance, he found himself kneeling him as his boyfriend navigated himself onto his back, one leg hooking itself over John’s hips. It was one of the many positions John loved to see Dave in, unable to resist the sight of his boyfriend laid out in front of him, legs obscenely spread to present himself eagerly for John and everything he had to give. It emboldened him, and with a newfound burst of libido fuelled energy he lined himself up—one hand on Dave’s hip and the other steadying his erection—before pressing in with the type of thoroughness he reserved solely for fucking Dave on those special days he pre-prepped, or, better—the days like this they went multiple rounds.
His cock sank in easily thanks to how much the tentacles had already stretched Dave out, and he could feel their cum as he pushed it deeper into Dave, creating a thick layer of slickness that eased his slide. Some of it oozed out as John pressed in, filling the space it’d occupied, and it bubbled out to slide down Dave’s taint, pooling behind his balls. John continued to push in, slow and steady as always, until he was buried to the base and Dave was shuddering under him, that lazy grin still plastered onto his face as he shifted and shuddered at the fullness.
They stayed like that for a while, both of them adjusting, until Dave reached for John’s wrist and handed him his aviators. Confused, John held them carefully, glancing between the mirrored lenses and Dave’s face—lit by the slivers of moonlight and their flashlight. Finally, he placed them onto his forehead, reaching down to brush Dave’s hair from his face, “dude, what the fuck do you want me to do with these?”
Dave laughed, the movement enough to make his stomach muscles clench and prompt John into gasping, before he pointed to their piled-up clothes. “Just get them outta the firing zone, would ya? Pretty sure I saw our friendly neighbourhood sex monster coming out again and I ain’t down to clean monster jizz off my shades. You should take off your glasses too, unless you’re cool with cleaning. Besides,” he clenched the leg wrapped around John, licking his lips, “want you to fuck me so hard they’d go flying if I had them on.”
John’s stomach flipped with anticipation, and he was quick to put the irreplaceable aviators out of harms way, but he pointedly left his replaceable and cheap glasses on despite Dave’s warning, turning back with a shrug. “I’ll survive. These are my shitty monster hunting glasses anyway, I got them at Costco. And I want to be able to see you and your o-face.”
He waited until the words had processed and Dave was smiling to draw back his hips and drive hard into Dave, forcing the expression into a moan. From there, he set himself a pace—more slow and deep than the bone shaking fuck Dave had wanted, but enough that he could feel Dave clenching down whenever he pulled out to the tip and slid back home, filling the room with the wet sounds of their fucking.
Something about what they were doing, between the sounds and the sights and maybe even the scent of it must have been enough to properly draw out the tentacles again, just like Dave had predicted. Not that John was at all surprised to feel some climbing up his back, settling on his arms and shoulders—if they could go more than one round, why wouldn’t the tentacle monster? And he was even less surprised to see Dave draw one closer, holding it loosely in his hand to guide the eager tendril right into his mouth.
“Fuck, that’s so hot—” he whined at the sight of Dave’s tongue working over the swollen head of the tentacle, holding it steady as he did. Dave groaned right back, bucking his hips, and John knew he was just as affected by the act as him.
He noted the tentacles that were emerging increased in number as time passed. What was once five, maybe six tendrils writhing around had quickly become closer to ten or twelve—more than John could easily count in the darkness of the warehouse, his mind hazy with lust. They curled around him, draped across his shoulder like the world’s worst feather boa, curling around his arms and legs, smearing their slick as they went.
They went for Dave as well, wrapping tightly around his thigh, curling up his torso, even wrapping tightly around his cock. John shuddered at the sight, the inky dark of the tendril almost like a shadow on Dave’s warm skin. They tried to press into his ass again as well, darting forwards to try and stretch him out. John almost let them, imagining the way Dave would look stretched out that much, the sounds he would make. But he was selfish, and he didn’t want Dave to imagine being fucked and think fondly on something that wasn’t John alone. It was a petty little thing (he’d had no issues with the tentacles going at him when his dick wasn’t already snug Dave’s ass,) but that didn’t stop him. He gripped the offending tentacles tightly in his hands, burying himself to the hilt into Dave, “they can wait their turn. You’ll want a third round, right Dave?”
Dave shuddered in response, cock twitching with interest, and John smiled for just a moment, before the expression contorted back to one of pleasure. In his defence, it was hard to focus when he was fucking Dave. Luckily, the tentacles didn’t try to join him again, but they had no qualms with harassing John instead, sliding up his thighs and teasing his balls, distracting him from his rhythm. It was blissful relief when one of them finally sank into him again instead of just teasing, matching John’s speed and encouraging his hips to pump more vigorously into his thankful boyfriend.
“You look so good,” he licked his lips, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment to force them to focus. When he opened them, more tentacles had entered his field of vision, dragging themselves across Dave’s skin, leaving trails of fluid in their wake. Dave thrived under all the attention, moaning in a way John could only assume was for his benefit, sucking hard on one tentacle only to pull off with a pop and jerk it off, turning his attention to another, cheeks hollowed as he sucked hard (and when did he grab a second tentacle? John felt dizzy, it was all too much.)
He thrust rhythmically into Dave, the tentacles quick to match his pace and move with him, going as achingly deep as before until both of them were being rocked between the tendrils, Dave’s cheeks bulging while John’s cock twitched with the assault on his prostate. Dave’s eyes had fallen shut at some point—the textbook example of bliss—all tension drained out of him as he was see-sawed between all the cock he’d ever need. Feeling halfway gone to the pleasure as he mindlessly enjoyed himself, John hadn’t even noticed orgasm sneaking up on him, his hips moving even without his conscious effort. He’d noticed when Dave’s eyebrows furrowed though, mouth falling open to let out a breathy moan, and John snapped back to full consciousness to the feeling of his cock twitching—the first spurt of his cum adding to the mess already filling Dave. Even as he did so, the tentacle inside him continued to chase its end, prolonging his orgasm.
Dave was panting beneath him, the tentacle he’d been sucking on smearing itself across his collarbone. He swallowed a moment later, and John’s cock twitched despite his returned exhaustion, excited by the implication of Dave swallowing everything he was offered. Their eyes met, Dave shifting until John pulled out of him, and then shifting more to sit up and grab John’s arm, tugging him closer.
Their lips met in a chaste kiss, and then another, and then Dave groaned and kissed John in a way that was decidedly less chaste, their tongues meeting more than their lips. It tasted salty in a way that should have grossed John out, but he gripped more tightly at Dave instead, ignoring the tentacles surrounding them as he shamelessly ran his tongue over Dave’s teeth.
“John—” Dave’s voice is hoarse and low and husky, leaving John feeling warm. “Two orgasms already, and I only got one.”
It was an accusation, even if it didn’t sound like one, even though Dave didn’t look upset about it. He just looked dazed, lips swollen from use and eyes lidded, just a hint of that familiar red peeking out. Despite that, John smiled sheepishly, and in a silent apology he reached down and gripped Dave’s cock, stroking slow and firm.
He genuinely wanted to get Dave off—he wanted to see his boyfriend in the throes of orgasm, flushed and desperate and pushed to the edge. He wanted things to be even too, because it felt wrong for him to be two orgasms in when Dave was the one who this whole situation was shamelessly catered to. And Dave was unmistakably close, the muscles in his thighs growing taut immediately after John began to stroke him, his breathing going shallow and toes beginning to curl when he squeezed around the base. But right as Dave’s eyes closed, a moan caught in his throat, two tentacles wrapped around John’s wrist and dragged his hands away.
He whined in disbelief, matching Dave’s pitiful cry—a cry cut off quickly by a tendril curling around his thigh, catching his attention. The two inside John started up as well, coiling together and prodding against his prostate, and John realised he’d forgotten their presence in their stillness. His cock didn’t grow hard—far beyond the ability to do that at the moment—but (thankfully) it didn’t feel oversensitive anymore as they curled inside him.
Dave laughed, the way he had been every time the tentacle hoard did something new, sizing up the way John’s wrists were restrained as he was fucked. “Third round, huh?”
John tried to smile back, but settled for nodding, his head finding refuge in Dave’s shoulder. “I did say they could, if I remember correctly. I’ll take the blame.”
“Course,” Dave shifted, kissing John’s temple, even as John spotted several of the tentacles beginning to converge on him. “Not that it matters, could do this all fucking night if I wanted.”
“Ugh, please no. I really don’t want to see how long these things can fuck till they run out of steam, I’m done after this” he groaned, exasperated and aroused in equal measures by his boyfriend’s insatiable libido.
Did tentacles understand English? John was no scientist—not a real one, at least, the scientific method had been long abandoned in his work—but he’d be willing to suggest they did after what he said. Before, there’d been around ten, give or take. Then, like he’d opened Pandora’s box of hentai, the number nearly doubled.
His eyes grew wide at the sight, mouth open in disbelief, but Dave’s whole face lit up with excitement, hand reaching out to grab one of the writing tentacles. It’d worked every other time, why not now? But instead of getting to jerk something off, John watched as Dave’s wrists were restrained by two of the new tendrils, forced behind his back until he too was restrained.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the offended look on Dave’s face, while Dave looked at his arms and sighed. “Well, damn. Guess we better go out with a bang.”
Quietly, John was thankful that even when the tentacles shifted them into the positions they wanted, nothing tried to separate Dave from him. He didn’t mind being restrained (it was sort of hot, actually—aside from how slimy his wrists felt,) but they were still having sex with a monster in an abandoned warehouse, and being unable to touch Dave would have been nervewracking. The closeness was better in everyway, including the way it made it easy to shift and kiss him again.
Kissing was good too, in more than one way. It was good because it was Dave, and there was little better than kissing him. And it was good because it distracted him, so he couldn’t focus so much on how many tentacles there were. He knew they were there, obviously, but he didn’t need to worry himself about the third tentacle squirming into him, stretching him even more than before, or the ones looping around his waist like the world’s worst belt.
Similarly, he didn’t need to see Dave to know he was enjoying himself. He could hear perfectly fine, every moan and shuddering sigh meeting his ears, and could feel his hot breath against John’s lips. It’s how he knew the tentacles got Dave off when he’d failed, and then continued right through the oversensitive period, leaving him trembling against John.
He thought he’d been overwhelmed before, spitroasted between Dave and the needy tentacles and their foreign, unending movements. This was that and more, every nerve alight with pleasure. Three tentacles became four, almost five, all of them squirming in their decidedly paranormal way, smearing him with lube and cum. Two finished inside him, (the two from before, maybe?) leaving even more of a mess, but more were quick to fill the space left. It was an aching fullness, but it never hurt, the tentacles stretching him so thoroughly and giving so easily that even with them all curling together inside him it always stayed firmly on the pleasurable side of too much.
They touched him everywhere else too. His chest was smeared with lube, the blunt, phallic heads of the tendrils dragging across him, goosebumps rising on his skin. They teased his nipples—copying the way Dave had earlier—and they wrapped around his cock, despite it’s limpness, stroking it back to life when he thought it was long gone.
He couldn’t resist the urge to open his eyes, even if he knew it’d be dizzying to see just how many tentacles had shown up. Pulling back from where his head had found Dave’s shoulder, a low sound between a whine and a moan left his lips as he caught sight of Dave. Like him, he was covered in the undeniable sheen of lube and cum—the harsh flashlight glow illuminating it—and an uncountable number of tendrils attempting to press into him as well. He panted and pressed back against them without hesitation, heat radiating off of him. It seemed to John like he wanted it all, no matter how impossible it was.
“Dave—” his eyes opened at that—still lidded but undeniably focused on John—“Dave, fuck—you look so good,” Dave smiled, somehow, even if it was wobbly, and John found himself smiling back, shifting until the tentacles let him close enough to kiss his boyfriend, moaning into it.
When the kiss broke, Dave nuzzled affectionately against John, a shuddering groan leaving him. “Feels—feels good. For you too, yeah?” John nodded, straining against the binds on his wrists to no avail, one of the tentacles fucking him prodding insistently at his prostate. Dave groaned, arching against him. “Good. Fuck—should feel good for you too. Love you so much. Glad you let me do this, fffuck—”
John’s heart swelled, a smile stuck on his face even when they both stopped talking to chase their ends, sandwiched together as they were thoroughly used. It wasn’t like they hadn’t said that before, but something about Dave managing to squeeze it out when he was being fucked deep and hard by a writhing mass of tentacles made it special, his words repeating endlessly in John’s head.
His cock twitched, the tentacles wrapped around it squeezing, the blunt head of one rubbing against the swollen tip. He wasn’t sure if the slickness of it all was from his own precum or their lubrication anymore, but it didn’t really matter. Everything was wet and sensitive and helplessly stimulated regardless of the source.
When the first tentacle came inside him, he almost didn’t notice. There was twitching, and there was warmth, but he was already a mess from his earlier fuckings. It was only when it pulled out of him, leaving a noticeable emptiness even with the others there that he became hyperaware of the sensation of having been filled even more. The rest followed quickly, thrusting deep into him, leaving loads of thick cum inside that dripped out even as the remaining tendrils fucked it deeper inside him. As they finished, pumping him full of their release, his cock was relentlessly pumped squeezed and rubbed for all it was worth.
He couldn’t keep quiet—couldn’t even hear Dave over his own growing sounds—growing into near screams when finally, finally, he met his third orgasm. The relief it brought was almost painful, his aching and worn out cock twitching in oversensitivity, and this time—this time he knew he was done. Panting, thoroughly used, he felt like he could sleep for a century.
So out of it, he hadn’t noticed the last of the tentacles leaving him until his arms were set free, falling limp at his sides. He opened his eyes to Dave’s face, soft lips pressing against his, similarly free of his restraints. John sighed into the kiss, returning it enthusiastically even through the haze of exhaustion.
“I didn’t get off,” Dave finally said, kissing John’s jaw, “not yet.”
Oh. John’s heart ached for Dave for one fleeting moment, sad that he hadn’t been given the same pleasurable end. He shifted despite his growing exhaustion, forcing himself up onto his knees again. “You need me?” His voice sounded worn out to his own ears, raw from his increasingly desperate yelling.
Dave shook his head in response, petting through John’s hair. Idly, John noted his other arm moving rhythmically between his legs. “Don’t worry, s’good. Probably just ‘cause I’m more used to taking cock up the ass. I was just thinking… You look good all messed up like this. Wanted to know if I could, uh. Add to it.”
Even orgasm worn as he was, John could muster up the energy to give Dave a look, eyebrow raised. “You want to give me a facial?” Dave nodded eagerly, and John couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “Sure, alright. Cum on my face Dave.”
Dave let out a choked sound in response—clearly more affected by the act of debauching John that way than he’d let on—and John smiled at him as he stood up. It was hot to him too, actually, in its own way, to see Dave standing above him, holding his cock at level with John’s mouth. He couldn’t remember off the top of his head the last time they’d done something this messy either, and he hammed it up for Dave, licking his lips to tease him.
Stroking faster, Dave jerked himself off with determination. The tentacles emerged again as well, as if they hadn’t left Dave unfinished once they’d gotten themselves off, crowding shamelessly around John’s face. John looked between them and Dave’s dick, contemplating how he’d gotten into this situation. But after a long moment he accepted their presence, parting his lips. Dave moaned at the sight, his cock just barely brushing John’s lips, so when his tongue darted out he was met with the taste of precum and another shuddering moan from his boyfriend.
Dave’s hand sped up, another bead of pre forming on the tip—shiny and white—before he went still, squeezing himself hard as he came. The sound Dave made was choked off and airy, the first spurt of cum landing square on John’s tongue. Once the initial moment had passed, Dave resumed his movements fisting his cock hard as he came, and John realised the tentacles were coming with him—their own release getting everywhere, painting his cheeks and hair white with more cum than he’d ever thought would be in his vicinity at once.
By the time they were done, he felt stickier than he ever had, absolutely coated with cum. He swallowed what was in his mouth, wincing at the bitter taste (Dave always had more of a stomach for that sort of thing,) and there was the sound of scrambling, Dave cursing idly at something (probably a tentacle, maybe a rock,) before their abandoned camera was in John’s face. John stared at it, and then burst into laughter, raising his hand in a playful peace sign. “When would you even need video of this? We’re always together, jackass. And it isn’t going online! Fuck your social media brand.”
“Man, fuck you, I wasn’t going to put it online. Sometimes you’re just asleep. Sometimes I wanna see my boyfriend post-bukkake. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Youtube doesn’t deserve your post-bukkake face.”
John’s smile softened, a hand reaching out to touch Dave. “You’re stupid. A big dumb horny sap. You know it’s drying on me, right? It’s super unsexy over here, and it’s getting sort of cold, and I’m pretty sure when I stand up there’s going to be a puddle of stuff.”
“Haha, gross,” Dave stopped the recording, looking over something on his camera before going to get the flashlight off the floor. “It was pretty good though. Wish I’d gotten some close-ups on your tentacle creampie. But stay here, m’gonna go get some water and wipes and shit.”
John stood instead, staring in disdain at the mess on the ground. There was no way they were going to clean that up, he didn’t want to get on that grimy floor again anytime soon, but he silently apologized to all the teenagers who used this place as their hangout spot—even if the home of a horny tentacle monster probably wasn’t the coolest place to drink shitty beer and spray paint the walls. Thinking of the tentacles, he peered around, but all but one seemed to have disappeared back where they came. John exhaled, relieved they really had only wanted ass, not to eat their flesh or something.
His knees were unsurprisingly wobby, and every moment that passed without Dave was starting to feel gross. Now that the haze of hentai surrealism had faded, he realised just how weird it was to be naked in a dingy warehouse. Dave was lucky it’d been good sex. And when he returned, John was quick to cuddle up to him, glad for the reprieve from his thoughts. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too. Tentacles ditched?” As he spoke, he rubbed at some of the cooling cum on John’s cheek, rubbing until he felt thoroughly cleaned.
John glanced at where the last tentacle had been again, noting how even it had left now. “Yeah… Probably for the best. Last thing I want is another round.”
“Your fuckin’ loss.”
“What, you’d have sex again?”
“Hell yeah. Dunno when I’ll get an opportunity like this again.”
Dave looked completely serious, and John burst into laughter, hugging him around the waist tightly. “You’re ridiculous! I think I’d die if I had to go another time. Or my penis would fall off, probably.”
“Well, it ain’t my fault you’re weak. Survival of the fittest, dumbass. Some of us are just built to fuck,” he kissed John softly, their noses bumping.
They both grew quiet, focused on their own cleaning. The pack of wipes, full when they started, was half empty by the time John felt just barely clean enough to put his boxers and shirt back on. His pants though—he didn’t dare sully them, they were his favourite pair. Dave seemed to be in a similar situation, although it was his shades that stayed off, held gingerly in his hands once he’d dressed himself.
Stepping up to him, Dave wrapped his arms around John’s waist. “Hey,” John hummed in response, pressing his face to Dave’s shoulder, “Still up for Tacos?”
It was a stupid question, and they both knew it. John’s hair was a lost cause, matted with the remainder of Dave’s mess, his hips and ass aching, and while Dave hadn’t been the star of a scene ripped straight from a hentai, he’d still gotten pretty messy in the thick of it. His face betrayed no humour though, and John couldn’t help but laugh, arms winding around Dave’s torso. “Only if you’re driving, asshole. Other humans aren’t allowed to see me until I’ve had a fucking shower.”
Dave was quiet for a moment, before John felt lips press to his temple. “Yeah, alright. I’ll take responsibility for letting a crowd of eldritch sex toys help bukkake my boyfriend and tell the poor asshole at the drive thru what we want.”
John sighed, petting through Dave’s hair, “I love you. But I can barely walk. How do you take things up the ass so well?”
He felt Dave stifling laughter into his skin, hands squeezing John. “Practice, asshole. You know it’s practice.” He shifted, and John felt his arm being lifted over Dave’s shoulder, supporting him. “I’ll help you out, big baby.” They began to walk, Dave kissing John’s cheek, “love you too.”
John smiled, dopey and content. “Maybe we can do this again sometime? We can bring better lights so you can get all those porno shots you want.”
“Oh, fuck yeah, best boyfriend ever,” Dave squeezed him, a broad smile on his face. It was definitely the stupidest thing to get excited about ever, but John couldn’t blame him. It could be their new sex thing—weird and stupid and probably not the smartest idea, but theirs. He couldn’t even be mad that his life was essentially a bad hentai, not with Dave glowing beside him.