[Hurricane keens, the sound pure want, as the tentacle in Rye begins to move. His eyes are still squeezed shut against the sight, but he can hear it, slick motion, tantalizingly near. His cock pulses hard, stiff and leaking; a new strand of precome dribbles to the comforter, joing what's by now a sizeable wet spot]
[The keening noise has faded out by the time Rye calls him "good boy," and that's when the whimpers start, soft and pleading, cock giving another long twitch at the words. He can breathe like this, and his chest is heaving; new tears stream down the side of his face]
[He hasn't stopped trying to force himself further onto the tentacles buried inside him - hasn't stopped struggling, fighting with all his strength to rub up against the tentacle that's so painfully close to his cock]
[As soon as Rye asks him to nod, he's doing so almost frantically, over and over, without pause. The whimpers are downright desperate, by now; the motion of his hands on the tentacles is arhythmic, a little bit jerky and decidedly unsteady, but he keeps trying, as though if he only tries hard enough, somehow he'll be able to feel it, too]
no subject
[The keening noise has faded out by the time Rye calls him "good boy," and that's when the whimpers start, soft and pleading, cock giving another long twitch at the words. He can breathe like this, and his chest is heaving; new tears stream down the side of his face]
[He hasn't stopped trying to force himself further onto the tentacles buried inside him - hasn't stopped struggling, fighting with all his strength to rub up against the tentacle that's so painfully close to his cock]
[As soon as Rye asks him to nod, he's doing so almost frantically, over and over, without pause. The whimpers are downright desperate, by now; the motion of his hands on the tentacles is arhythmic, a little bit jerky and decidedly unsteady, but he keeps trying, as though if he only tries hard enough, somehow he'll be able to feel it, too]