[The needy little mewls don't subside when Rye finishes and the tentacles begin to pull out; if anything, they grow more insistent. The need to be filled slams into him like a freight train, washing over him with wave after wave of heat, the aphrodisiacs and the pheromones combining to make the need into a fever pitch. It's an unbearable itch inside him, and he has no way to sate it]

[If anything, it's worse now that he knows how it can be - to have had so much and then had it taken away. All that's left is the suction of the tentacles on his nipples and his cock, and he sucks in a shaking breath and sobs it out, desperate for more]

Please - please -

[His voice is an utter wreck from the tentacle that was throatfucking him so deeply, hoarse and ragged and unsteady]

Don't stop. Don't stop, I g-gotta have more. F-fuck me, fill me up, even if - even if I can't take it anymore. Even if I pass out, god, please, keep going now, I need it so bad -

[He doesn't make a move to drink the water, yet - is too busy struggling against the tentacles holding him, desperate to take his own cock in hand]