Page 77 of Music of the Ocean

His body burned at the cool touch of each tentacle where it contacted his body. The sensation built in layers—a wet, sliding pressure at his shoulder blades; a series of tiny electric shocks where suckers passed over his collarbone; a deeper, more insistent squeeze at his thighs and calves.

Indigo’s tentacles explored every surface, each curve and hollow, and with each pass their grip became a little more possessive, a little more insistent. Even as the tentacles retraced their paths, their caresses seemed to amplify the sensation rather than dull it.

There was no safe place, no part of his body unclaimed, and the touch was both a seduction and an invasion. The pressure and the heat compounded until Saxby thought he might fly apart.

The sensation of being held, caressed, squeezed, and stroked all at once pushed him toward the threshold of something overwhelming.

A burning, twisting ache settled in Saxby’s gut, and an itch seared through him. His body buzzed with a low-grade hum that made him yearn. He was hot, and an insistent ache in his cock wouldn’t go away.

He wanted to fuck. Now, damn it.

A whirlpool of desire swirled deep within, waiting to tackle him, and he was so ready. His shaft was painfully hard, and it throbbed in time to the beat of his heart. His nipples were tight aching points that demanded attention.

He trailed his hand down to where Indigo had said his mating tentacle’s sheath was located, his fingers resting against the sealed opening. The skin was warm, slightly raised, and pulsed faintly beneath his touch.

He applied gentle pressure, and Indigo made a low, guttural sound that vibrated through the water between them. Saxby’s fingers traced the outline of the sheath, feeling the tension in the tissue beneath.

The mating tentacle stirred, pressing against the seal from within, and Indigo’s body went rigid. His tentacles locked around Saxby, holding him in place with an immovable grip.

“Tell me if I do anything wrong,” Saxby said, his voice trembling.

Indigo’s response was not quite a word, more a vibration that Saxby felt rather than heard. The mating tentacle pressed harder against the seal, and the sheath parted, widening by degrees. He brushed his fingers along the opening.

Indigo hissed in reaction.

The tentacle’s tip emerged. It was smooth, tapered, and glistening as it extended slowly, the barbs along its length still flat against the surface. Saxby’s hand moved to meet it, his fingers curling around the emerging length.

The tentacle pulsed once, then again, each contraction pushing it farther from the sheath. The barbs rose, flexing outward in a slow wave that traveled from base to tip.

Saxby’s grip tightened, and the tentacle responded by excreting a glossy, colorless oil. Saxby’s gills fluttered faster. He thought that would happen when it was in him, but he wasn’t complaining. Not by a long shot.

The oil shimmered in the light, refracting like a trailing comet as the tentacle ducked behind him, smearing the oil in a deliberate, measured pass across his hole, making him impossibly slick.

His breathing sped up as Indigo, with a sudden motion, lifted Saxby into his lap. He stood, and Saxby wrapped his legs instinctively around Indigo’s waist. Indigo slid his arms beneath Saxby’s knees, locking their bodies together.

Indigo’s mating tentacle simply probed at first, the soft, blunt end tracing slow circles around the tight ring of muscle, not pushing in but making its presence unmistakably known.

The sensation was foreign but not unwelcome. It was a cool, slick pressure that made Saxby’s hips buck against it. He moaned, the sound lost in the water, but Indigo’s tentacles tightened in response.

Indigo’s eyes remained fixed on Saxby’s face, searching for any sign of distress or hesitation. Saxby, flushed with need and slack-jawed anticipation, nodded. Indigo pressed forward, the tip of the mating tentacle teasing the opening but not quite breaching it.

The tentacle worked against his hole, never forcing, only coaxing and softening it as Indigo prepared Saxby with a patience that would’ve seemed impossible.

Every probe of the mating tentacle triggered a ripple of sensation. Saxby’s muscles relaxed, his pulse beating a staccato rhythm in his ears. The anticipation was almost as heady as the event itself.

The tentacle’s tip applied steady pressure, and the oil acted as a conductor, spreading heat and sensation through Saxby’s bones. He moaned, the sound pure and desperate. He pushed his hips down, signaling that he was ready, but Indigo resisted, drawing out the moment with calculated slowness.

There was a good chance Saxby was going to strangle Indigo with his own tentacle if he didn’t get inside him soon. He was also sure he heard Indigo chuckle at the thought, too. Shit, he wasn’t minding his shields, was he? Probably hadn’t been the whole time. Shit. Was that why Indigo slammed into the wall earlier?

Oh the fuck well. Maybe Indigo would get a move on then.

The mating tentacle’s barbs remained retracted, the surface perfectly smooth as it twisted in a subtle, corkscrewing motion that made Saxby gasp. Suddenly, two other tentacles wound around Saxby’s thighs, holding him and spreading him even wider.

The mating tentacle pulsed as the tip finally slipped inside. The sensation was overwhelming, a blend of fullness and heat, and Saxby’s body convulsed around it.

The other tentacles gripped him tighter, holding him open as the mating tentacle advanced, the slick oil easing its passage. Saxby surrendered to the feeling, his mind going blank while pleasure flooded through him as it breached his hole.

Indigo lifted Saxby up and down as he fucked into him, slowly at first, the tentacle inching deeper with each careful thrust. Saxby’s eyes widened. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt.