Page 48 of Hummingbird and Kraken

Declan freed Geir’s cock with a murmur of delight. He started stroking, teasingly over the head and then firmly as he grasped the shaft.

Geir rested his head back. He’d forgotten how good this could feel. And it was a thousand times better with Declan’s slim hand on him.

Then Declan lined up his smaller, perfect cock along Geir’s and rubbed them together. Geir wanted to close his eyes and give in to the sensation. But Declan was more important.

He wrapped a loop of tentacle around both of their lengths, making Declan shudder and moan.

Declan was looking down at the place where their bodies met, his eyes lidded with pleasure but unable to look away.

Geir looked down, too. The pink flesh of their cocks were nestled together in the slippery black and white coils. He’d never thought to touch himself this way. It looked strange, and a bit dangerous.

But Declan’s face said it all. He wanted this. Which made it wonderful for Geir, too.

“More slime,” Declan requested.

Geir grunted. He wasn’t sure he could make slime on command. Instead, he ran the coils past each other, twisting as he went, and leaving their slippery coat behind.

Declan cried out, shaking in his arms. Was this what he wanted?

Declan reached down, his slim fingers sliding between the tentacles and enhancing every sensation. When his hand was dripping, he reached behind himself. “Alright, let go now.”

Geir squinted. He didn’t want to let go. And usually when they were together Geir was in charge.

“Trust me. You’ll like this.”

Geir reluctantly withdrew. Declan lifted himself onto his knees, gripped Geir’s cock, and guided it backward toward his ass.

Geir only realized what he was doing as his tip started to enter that heated, impossibly tight hole. The last time he had done this had been centuries ago. It had been furtive. Dangerous. Filled with dark shadows and fear in his mind.

But Declan was leading him joyfully, shining with his own light in the middle of the day. It was so mundane, in a way, sitting on his faded couch with the windows open and Declan’s little trinkets on display in the sills. But that only made it more precious.

After that, it was harder to think. Declan was hot and so tight that Geir thought he might come before he was even fully inside.

Declan’s face looked anguished, though. Tears leaked onto his cheeks.

“I’m hurting you. We should stop.”

Declan shook his head wildly. “No,” he gritted out. “Supposed to hurt.” He panted a few times, then sunk down another inch.

The tight heat, and Declan’s willingness, no, delight in that little bit of pain he must be feeling was driving Geir toward the edge. He shuddered, which made Declan cry out.

“More slime,” Declan panted.

Geir wrapped his other tentacle around his own sensitive shaft, teasing at Declan’s tight opening as he did. Declan arched and squirmed. He tasted salty, the flavors complex.

He slid down another inch. Pleasure shot through Geir. It was getting hard to hold still.

Another inch, and Declan was rocking up and down. “Now. Yes. Want you,” he panted.

Geir pressed into him, the feeling like a burst of sunshine through his veins. This was better than anything he could have remembered or imagined. With Declan, it was always better.

He lifted Declan up an inch, then pressed up with his thighs as he pulled him back down with his upper limbs. Declan arched and cried out beautifully, accepting the motions and slow rhythm that Geir set.

“Is that slick enough?” he asked, still worried. He ran the tip of one tentacle around the entrance of Declan’s opening, trying to coax out more of his slime coat.

“Oh, please, more. Inside me. Like before.” Declan moved faster, taking over the rhythm.

It took Geir a moment to figure out what he meant through the haze of rapture. He tried to pull the words together to explain. “I can’t half-shift with that arm. Only my tentacles.” His hectocotylus was part of the other eight smaller arms that replaced his legs and the lower half of his body. It was one or the other.