[Hurricane makes a long, wavering, desperate sound as the first of the suckers settle into place on his cock and begin to work. He jolts hard as they begin to suck - trembles all over as the other tentacle joins them to provide friction. The sucker attached to the tip of him is slick with precome in seconds; his cock pulses hard, squeezing out a long strand of it to trail down his own length and the tentacles wrapped around him]
[His eyes flicker open at Rye's command; they're teary and wanting, the pupils completely blown. It's easy to see the way he takes in the sight: Rye spread out in front of him, hard but not touching, tentacle buried inside himself. It's easy to feel, from the way his cock jerks again, how much he likes the sight]
[Hurricane makes another sound, as the tentacles start to move - urgent and wanting, shivery with some combination of need and relief. He stops fighting against the hold as soon as there's motion, letting the tentacles hold him up, but he can't help but squirm, pressing back against them, pressing into the suction against his nipples]
[He swallows hard around the tentacle in his mouth, struggling not to choke as it begins again; his thighs tremble, pressed around the tentacle between his legs. His hands are not being especially helpful right now, even the unsteady rhythm of before lost in the face of so much sensation rolling over him all at once, but they're still making tight little holes with his fingers and thumbs, palms curled in warm and inviting. Every time Rye finds that spot inside him, Hurricane clamps down hard, cock flexing under the grip of all those suckers as it leaks new blurts of precome]
no subject
[His eyes flicker open at Rye's command; they're teary and wanting, the pupils completely blown. It's easy to see the way he takes in the sight: Rye spread out in front of him, hard but not touching, tentacle buried inside himself. It's easy to feel, from the way his cock jerks again, how much he likes the sight]
[Hurricane makes another sound, as the tentacles start to move - urgent and wanting, shivery with some combination of need and relief. He stops fighting against the hold as soon as there's motion, letting the tentacles hold him up, but he can't help but squirm, pressing back against them, pressing into the suction against his nipples]
[He swallows hard around the tentacle in his mouth, struggling not to choke as it begins again; his thighs tremble, pressed around the tentacle between his legs. His hands are not being especially helpful right now, even the unsteady rhythm of before lost in the face of so much sensation rolling over him all at once, but they're still making tight little holes with his fingers and thumbs, palms curled in warm and inviting. Every time Rye finds that spot inside him, Hurricane clamps down hard, cock flexing under the grip of all those suckers as it leaks new blurts of precome]