[ it's careful, the way that she kisses at him, giving each inch of him consideration deemed long due, affectionate; from the edge of his jaw she drifts to his throat now, tip of her tongue gliding light over the edge of each tattoo as she sees them, committing the pattern to memory.

as she goes he could feel - there is distinct texture to the sensations at his lap, ribbed undersides of the tentacles - suckers, perhaps, befitting something dredged up from the lake, or some other small protrusions, individual parts wriggling against his legs in steady rhythm with their whole. with so many they seem almost to be embracing him themselves, teasing further and further along the edge of his inner thigh in lieu of her hands - one still holding his, the other settling, finally, at the base of his cock, giving it a quick loose stroke ]