wotanon | Dreamers After Dark (VII)

[Hurricane works himself hard, hand moving over his cock like he needs the touch desperately. The sound it makes as he tugs, increasingly urgent, is wet and fleshy, the motion slicked by the precome that trickles down from the head in lazy trails]

A-ahh, god. It feels - feels so good. I need - just a little more. I'm - I'm right there -

[On every upstroke, he catches at that spot beneath the tip with his thumb; he shudders up into it, biting hard at his bottom lip, quite unable to muffle the soft whine. It isn't long before he's drawn up tight and shaking, again - whimpers, and gasps, the motion of his hips stuttering to a stop]

Please - Please please please -

[Just like before, nothing happens]

[The whine he makes then is almost plaintive; his hand redoubles its efforts, working him harder still]

[And that's about when Rye mentions that the audience is getting off on this]

[His cheeks flush dark, and his hand stutters and slows. He can't quite bear to pull it away, despite the sharp thrill of humiliation - can't quite manage to stop himself from touching]

[The dilemma doesn't last for long, though, because Rye's flipping him over on the bed, so that he's even more on display. The covers hide his blush, but they do nothing to hide the way his cock twitches - the way he struggles against Rye's hold to try and resume jerking off. The words, when they come, are muffled by the mattress:]

Oh, jesus, that - yes, god, put it in already, I need - need you in me. Touch me, fill me up, let me - let me jerk off, god, I need it so bad -

Hmm, gods, I love seeing you like this. [He uses his strength to move Hurricane towards the center of the bed, letting him feel how easily he can lift him, even with the metal leg. Keeps his face down, but ass high in the air, a display. His hands trail over his cheeks, down to his legs, spreading them more, make to harder to hide hus cock.] So ready to be filled and used. So eager. [He grabs the lube, spreading some over his cock with a groan.]

I know I said I'd hold your hands behind your back, but.... [He takes his wrists in hand, one going behind his back, the other guided down to his cock, though just out of range.] You put on such a pretty display right now, fucking your hand so desperately. And you get so tight when you're on the edge of coming.

I don't think you're gonna so easy. And you feel amazing when you're at the edge. Really, letting you try so desperately, it just makes you a better fucktoy for me. [He then wraps Hurricane's fingers around hus own cock.] So you get one hand, pet. Try your best to come because I'm gonna keep to my plan now.

[His hand lets go and goes to his own cock, guiding it to Hurricane's hole.] Its going to get a lot morr for you pet. [And he starts pushing in, not terribly slow, but still at a gentle pace, a soft moan leaving him. As well as the pheromones, to invoke a maddening desire in Hurricane combined with his state at the moment.]

[Hurricane flushes a darker red, at being called out for being so ready to be filled - for being so eager. Because he really, really is. He's aching for it, even before the pheromones, hands fighting to break Rye's hold right up until Rye relents and closes Hurricane's fingers around his own cock]

[He shudders into his own touch, hips bucking forward - whines, long and low, as his hand begins to stroke. They're firm strokes, steady, the kind designed to get someone off fast]

O-oh, jesus. Yes, yeah, that - do it, put it in me, I'll - I'll make it good for you. I'll keep trying, I'll - I'll make myself real tight for you. I wanna - wanna keep trying. I'm so close I can taste it, jesus, please, put it in -

[And then Rye's pushing in, gentle, and he moans in relief, spreading his legs a little wider, wordlessly begging for more. He's not on the edge again just yet, thanks to the brief break, but he shakes and trembles with every stroke of his own hand - with the sensation of being filled]

[It's obvious, as soon as the pheromones kick in. He goes very still, breath catching in his throat, and the whine that leaves him is high and urgent]

That's - o-oh my god. I can f-feel it. You - you turned em on. You - g-god, it's - I want it, please, I - I need m-more.

[His hand works feverishly; his fingers smear a fresh trail of precome along the length of his erection, leave it slick and red and straining. The motion of his hips stutters for an instant, and he breaks the rhythm, too intent on getting Rye the rest of the way inside him to match the pace of his own hand just now]

P-please, I need you deeper. Keep - keep going, please, it feels - I need it so bad -

Edited 2021-02-20 18:59 (UTC)

[Rye moans loudly as he pushes in, body shuddering at just how tight he feels, so worked up. He keeps the pace gentle, even as Hurricane's hips work deperately against him for more.] Gods, your body feels so good. Like you were made to be fucked. I love being inside you, you always hug my cock so nicely. Like the perfect fucktoy.

[His hand keeps a grip on his other hand, still pinned to his back, the other holding his hips now, forcing him to move at his pace.]

I bet you feel it. I didn't hold back this time. I don't think you could even try to offer taking care of yourself alone. It just wouldn't feel anywhere near as satisfying as me taking you. Using you. Touching you.

[He buries himself to the hilt, keeps the grip on his hips tight to force him still.] Bet you wish it was my hand touching you. Pumping your aching cock. But my hands are busy, so you need to. Keep trying to get yourself off, keep yourself right at that edge, pet. It makes you so amazing to use.

[Then his hips finally pull back, before quickly snapping forward. Once, twice, three times as Rye starts up a hard, rough pace.]

[Hurricane whines, long and wavering, as Rye holds his hip, forcing him to slow. He starts to squirm against the grip immediately, the pheromones making it an imperative instead of a want, demanding something he can't provide. He needs, and it's buried under his skin like an itch he can't scratch, though the hand on his cock is doing its best to grant relief, tugging more urgently as the waves of heat begin to rise]

Nnn - I can't - c-can't take care of it myself. I need you, I need - need you in me, need you f-filling me up, it feels - g-god, it feels so good.

[Then Rye is pressing himself all the way in, and for an instant, it brings a sort of primal satisfaction - right up until Hurricane realizes he's stopped moving]

[He whimpers, softly - struggles to roll his hips against the awful stillnesss, the maddening tease of being so full but it just not being enough. His hand is still trying, the motions almost desperate now, but somehow that's not enough, either, not when it could be Rye's hand instead]

O-oh, jesus, please - what're you - what're you waiting for - fuck me, god, t-touch me, rub me off, why ain't you moving - ? I need more, I need m-more, god, please -

[And then finally - finally - Rye begins to move]

[Hurricane shudders, hard, at the rougher pace; his hips work to meet the thrusts as they come, wordlessly begging for more. The sound of his hand on his own cock is wet and distinct; on the bed beneath them, the precome has begun to create a damp patch on the covers]

[It isn't long before he's drawn up tight and trembling again, thighs tense and toes curling]

O-oh my god, please - please - I'm so close -

Edited 2021-02-24 17:26 (UTC)

[He loves this. He loves driving Hurrucane absolutely insane, pushing him to the edge, and keeping him there. The way he falls apart, but remains so very wound up, the way he loses himsrlf in the feeling. How much trusts in puts in him to make sure at the end of it, Rye is going to take care of him. No matter how much he pushes now.]

Fuck, you are so wonderful, Hurricane. Don't know how I resist you when you're so hot. When you let me push you so far. How much you love this. [He leans down, nipping at his shoulder.] Don't worry though. Others are pumping their cocks almost as desperately as you. [Because he wants to know what the reminder of the audience does when he's inside Hurricane.] Touching themselves, watching you touch yourself. Watching as you beg to be taken.

[He straightens up, grip tightening on his grips, pressing to the hilt with each thrust, adjusting as he looks for that spot, even as the other gets tighter around him, moans spilling past his lips as he keeps moving.] Don't worry. Gonna keep you. To myself for the next hour. You're gonna make the bed a mess. And. I'm gonna make you a mess. Fuck, you're so tight. You feel so good.

[His grip shifts on Hurricane's arm, pulling it straight and to the side, using it as more leverage to pound into the others body.]

[Hurricane makes a soft keening sort of noise, as Rye reminds him of the audience - that they're watching as he falls apart, as he begs, as he works his own cock like he's dying for it. He clenches hard around Rye; his hand stutters to a stop, as though he means to try and tone it down, humiliation rushing through him hot and sudden]

[But he can't - he can't - and it's all of three seconds before he whimpers and has to pick up the pace again, needing it too badly to hold off. The begging, though - that, at least, he can tamp down on, and he turns his face in toward the covers, biting down to stop the words coming out of his own mouth]

[It can't stop the noises, though; he's making needy, punched-out little sounds every time Rye presses forward. His hips are starting to fall out of rhythm, the way they do when he's about to come]

[He goes still and shuddering; his eyes squeeze shut. He whines, high and pleading, teetering on the knife's edge of orgasm, clenching down hard - and still he doesn't come]

Edited 2021-02-24 20:25 (UTC)

[There's a sharp gasp, a punched out groan as Hurricane gets tight around him, even as his pace falters with his hand. His own, however, doesn't in the least. If anything he's thrusting faster, the sound of skin against skin loud and obvious, his moans loud as he presses into the tight heat.]

Don't stop now, pet. I know you need it, want it. Keep touching yourself. Makes. Makes it so easy to rail you. Fuck you into this bed. Gods, you're so hot. Gonna. Gonna cum so hard.

[Then he's even tighter and the sound Rye makes is a cross between desoeration and mind blowing pleasure.] Fuck, you-amazing, so amazing-so good-keep going-k-keep trying to-gods, yes! [He presses Hurricane's hand to the bed, pressing himself partially to Hurricane's back to thrust down, hard, fast, a brutal pace as he rapidly approaches his climax.]

[He's whimpering, as he comes down from the edge of orgasm, high and needy and plaintive]

[But he doesn't come down, is the thing. The relief just doesn't come, and he bites down harder on the bed covers, cock twitching desperately in his hand. It pulses hard, as though it didn't get the memo - as though it's offering him some release, instead of just squeezing another long strand of precome from the tip]

[The whimpers grow more urgent, higher-pitched; he flushes dark at Rye's words, because Rye's right. He does want it - does need it. It feels like torture not to be stroking off his own cock, even if what he really wants is Rye's hand instead. He stutters back into motion, beginning to fuck into his own fist again, humiliation churning hot and bright inside him at the thought that the audience is seeing just how desperate he is]

[But he needs it - needs it - needs it - and his hand picks up its pace again, thumb catching at the spot on the head with every stroke and making him shudder and shake. Every inward thrust from Rye feels incredible, fills him up inside and scratches that awful, unbearable itch]

[It's inevitable, really; without time to come down, it's seconds before he's on the edge again, clenching down hard as his whole body goes tight and trembling, straining for a release that doesn't come]

[Its a rush. He knows he enjoys pushing Hurricane, leaving him needy and desperate, taunt him with his orgasm over time. How he moves and sounds as he tries to get what he can't have, the fact Rye knows even if he begs otherwise, it makes him burn hotter. That was the hottest part of all, the fact Hurricane truly seemed to want the denial as much as he wanted the release. And the way he looked when he comes after the denial...well, it was very worth doing.]

[But there was a new element now. The desire to show off, to show the audience just how hot Hurricane was like this, that people were touching themselves to the sight. As they should, he certainly would be, seeing Hurricane like this. It was a strong enough urge to quell his own humiliation. Or maybe because he was dominating Hurricane. Or perheps the potion was just that strong. Either way, it made him burn hotter, want to get more from Hurricane.]

[He can feel it, almost, every stroke Hurricane gives himself, in the way his hips move, how it makes him tighten around him. Rye is breathing hard, moans loud, kniws he's leaking pre into the body below him. His grip remains tight on his hips and wrist, pulling him back ibto the hard thrusts, chasing that release as eagerly as Hurricane.]

[And then he's tight again, so very tight, and Rye cries out in pleasure, a choked out sound, hips stuttering, turning to sharp, hard jerks as he comes, and comes hard, intent on riding out his orgasm while Hurricane is still on the edge.]

[He makes a choked sort of sound, when Rye comes - at the sound of Rye's voice, and the sudden surge of heat, and the change in the rhythm. It sounds suspiciously like a sob, caught there at the back of Hurricane's throat]

[He wants, with an intensity that steals his breath; he needs, the pheromones amping the heat up until he's begging with every inch of his body, hips working in unsteady circles]

[He hasn't stopped trying to rub himself off - can't seem to bring himself to, not when every nerve in his body is screaming for more. Every muscle is tense and trembling, convinced he's on the precipice, about to tip over]

[Hurricane moans, low and wavering - sobs again, face buried in the comforter - strokes his own cock with blatant need, fucking into his fist like his life depends on it]

[He teeters on the precipice for endless seconds, clenching hard around Rye's cock. He keens and whines and keeps trying - rocks his hips in needy, urgent little motions, working desperately to push himself over the edge]

[And still he doesn't come]

Edited 2021-02-27 18:07 (UTC)

[Its intense, ruding out his orgasm, with Hurricane still so tight, with the sobbibg, desperate sounds he's making, every move clearly filled with need. It draws out his own climax longer than normal, his own moans loud, keening, grip trembling. Before he finally, finally stills, buried inside Hurricane, and still half hard.]

[His grip tightens on Hurricane's arm, and then he pulls him up, where his back is flush with Rye's chest, and he's on his knees, desoerate hand and aching cock on full display.] Keep fucking your hand, pet. [He pushes a little more strength into the pheromones, to keep up that desperation.]

It feels so good after all, getting to cum. [He kisses and nips along his neck as he talks, voice low and hungry.] Gods, it felt so good, fucking you through my orgasm, spilling every drop inside your body as it begged me to. Like so much pressure released, feeling how tight and warm you were around me, fuck, its still begging me to do more. To fuck your body, fill it with my cock and cum, use it for climax after climax. And I'm gonna.

[He reaches down for the vial.] Don't worry. After a few more, we'll see if we can figure out what'll make you cum. But you can hardly blame me for taking advantage when your body feels fucking amazing. When you're putting on such a wonderful show. Who knows, maybe if I cum in you enough, your body will remember.

[No sooner than Hurricane is pulled up to his hands and knees - no sooner than he can't reach the covers to bite down on - the words start spilling from his lips again, like he can't keep them from tumbling out]

O-oh, jesus. Oh, please. I'm still so close. I can - I can almost -

[The motion of Hurricane's hand is even more urgent now, somehow. Every upstroke catches at the head, thumb tracing over that spot underneath that drives him wild. Probably he doesn't even need the pheromone boost - but when it comes, he goes very still for a moment, eyes going wide, lips parted in a soundless gasp]

[His hand redoubles its effort, then, frantic; his hips begin to move, trying to get more. He needs, like he needs to breathe, and hearing Rye talk about the release of all that pressure that hasn't abated at all for him feels a little like torture. It's a different kind of hell, too, to have Rye still seated inside him but only half hard, no longer moving: it's not deep enough, not thick enough, not doing enough to scratch that maddening itch]

Please - please, I - f-fuck me again. I need you to - to fill me up, it ain't - it ain't enough. You gotta - you gotta move, I need more. I need - oh my god, please let me come -

[A hard shudder goes through Rye at the sight, at the sounds. At how Hurricane is falling to pieces in his desperation, begging so beautifully, working his cock frantically, milking it of pre, but nit the orgasm he so clearly needs. Its enough to get a hard throb of his cock, fighting to get hard again even after just cumming.]

[He leans forward, kissing along his neck, hands reaching forward to twist and tug on his nipples, the cool glass of the vial pressed to his chest as its held by three fingers.] Don't worry, Hurricane. I'm gonna fuck you, again and again. After all, if your own cum can't leave you a mess, I'll just have to make up the difference.

[Then he takes his hand away.] But first. Vial. [He uncorks it and drinks it down. Its a few moments. Then he gasps, as he feels something familiar and not, and Hurricane feels more weight pressed against him, Rye shuddering and whining as he feels things extending from the base of his spine.]

[The change takes only a few moments and Hurricane can spot them from hus periphery, long, forest green tentacles, with bulbous ends and varrying sizes, with a faint shiny sheen over them.] Oh...that's....really new.

[Hurricane whines, soft and urgent, as Rye tugs at his nipples - rocks his hips forward, and then back, and then forward again, trying to get Rye to move - to fill him up, to quell that maddening need]

Ah, god - god, yes, do it, I need - touch me, fuck me, fill me up -

[His hand keeps working at his own cock, growing more desperate by the second - long, full strokes from base to tip, twisting a little, now, when he reaches the head. It's intense, if his body language is anything to go by; he twitches and jolts and presses harder into it, half sobbing when Rye takes his hand away from Hurricane's nipple to drink down the vial]

Don't stop - I need - it's eating me up inside, I want it so b-bad -

[He twists around, as best he's able, to see what the delay is - catches sight of those tentacles. His hand stutters in its rhythm; his eyes go wide, and he tries to turn a little farther, need still razor sharp but eclipsed, momentarily, by the surprise]

A-are those, like - ?

I....I guess that one is tentacles. That's. Wow. [He straightens up a bit, his own surprise distracting from arousal and need. Slowly, he goes the tentacles, at least used to moving ectra, strange limbs. He waves them in the air to get used to them, moving one closer to examine it.]

[He can see suckers on some, but most are smooth, save the bulbous end and upon looking, he can see a slit at the end. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers along it with a sharp breath at the feeling. The skin is slick with some kind of natural lubricant.]

Ah, they're.....they feel as sensitive as my....

Well. [He looks at Hurricane and his cock twitches hard in his ass.] Hurricane. Do you want to be fucked with a bunch of tentacles?

[Hurricane turns as best he's able, to watch Rye examine them - the slick, round heads, and the suckers, and the way Rye sucks in a sharp breath, when he touches one of them. His own breath stutters; in his fist, neglected for the moment due to the unexpected surrpise of the sight, Hurricane's cock gives a long twitch, leaking a long strand of precome onto the comforter]

[And if his flush goes a little darker, remembering a couple of choice doujinshi - if he clenches down around Rye's cock - surely that's the pheromones at work, that incessant driving need that's insisting he might go crazy if something doesn't scratch the maddening itch inside him]

Jesus, yeah, do it - do it now. I need - need something in me, need you to fill me up. This ain't - this ain't enough.-

[He's not sure what he meant to say, but by the humiliation on his face, it definitely wasn't that]

[There's a hiss and a soft chuckle as Hurricane clenches around him.] Hmm, should get you on truth potions more often. I love hearing you beg for everything you want. [He lens close, whispering in his ear.] Nit that I should be surprised. You love being used, and now, I can use you in so many ways. Your body is going to be getting so many cocks off at once, used like the lovely fucktoy you want to be. And I am going to use you thoroughly. If these things can cum, you're going to get each one off at least once.

[With a soft groan, he pulls his half hard cock out of Hurricane, missing the heat, but shifting back to move two tentacles in place. Each one is thinner than his own cock, but together, they're thicker than him. He slowly starts pushing the two tentacles inside, breath catching in his throat.]

[Other tentacles were moving. Two hooked under his arms with suckers, moving to his nipples to suction on, a constant, unrelenting pressure. Another around his middle, and two more near his wrists. The tentacles sift, but firm, holding him fast with a faint slick feeling, lightly pulsing.]

[Hurricane outright whimpers, when Rye pulls out of him; the pheromones, briefly eclipsed by the force of his surprise, rattle through him like a storm wind, shaking him with the force of his need, with the sudden lack]

Wh - n-no, wait - don't - don't stop, I -

[And then Rye is pressing in with the tentacles, and he gasps, softly, shifting back against them as they start to push inside. Hurricane bites down on his lip, hard, but can't suppress the whimper. His hips press him into the blunt tips of them, bearing down like he can't wait to get them inside]

Aaah, that's - jesus. Feels - feels kinda weird. But it's - g-god, it's good. I need more. I need - m-more, need you in me -

[He whimpers again, as the suckers enclose his nipples to apply that constant pressure; in his hand, his cock jolts hard, another sizeable drop of precome trickling down the shaft. Hurricane whines, softly, as the tentacles close around his wrists - starts trying to stroke himself, again, even as they settle into place]

It...it is weird. Gods, its like I have two cocks in you. Your body hugging them so nice. Fuck, you're gonna feel so good. [The tentacles push further inside, deeper and deeper, slowly, until Hurricane's body won't let him in deeper.]

[Meanwhile, yer more are making moves. The ones around his arms move up along them before pulling hard, spreading his arms straight out to each side.] Hm, not now. I don't want you distracted. I want you to feel everything I'm about to do to you.

[He settles back on the headboard, tentacles twisting Hurricane aroubd to face him. His own hand drifts to his cock, slowly, oh so slowly stroking himself. Another tentacle winds around Hurricane's legs, and snaps them together, holding fast. Yet another of the limbs then press against Hurricane's thighs from behind, slowly pushing between his thighs, starting a slow thrust betweeen his legs.]

Edited 2021-03-07 07:18 (UTC)

[Hurricane's breath catches as the tentacles inside him push deeper - stutters and then picks up again with quick, shallow breaths]

[He squirms against the intrusion - against the feeling of being so full - against the twin tendrils inside him, so much thicker than before and pressing so much deeper. When one of the appendages pulls his hand away from his erection, he outright whimpers, tugging against the hold to try and break free. His cock is a deep red by now, so hard it aches; it's slick with precome, and even now it twitches, a new drop falling free to damp the comforter beneath]

W-wait, don't - you gotta - you gotta let go of my hand. I need - I need something touching me, lemme - lemme rub off -

[When Rye maneuvers him so that they're facing each other, Hurricane whines in desperation, struggling hard against the hold of the tentacles. The sheer sight of it - of Rye stroking his own cock, slow and leisurely - feels like a bolt of lightning crashing through him, all heat and coursing electricity. His cock jerks hard, oozing new precome, the pounding pulse of need from the pheromones so sharp and insistent that he's gasping with it. He begins to squirm in earnest, now, trying to press back against the tendrils inside him or to get some friction from the one frotting between his thighs]

Rye, I - I can't - Oh my god, I need - t-touch me. Please, I need your hand. I need you to stroke me off - god, please - please -

[Rye is watching Hurricane with lidded eyes, his own breathing heavy, every twitch and squirm of the otger sending sparjs or bolts of pleasure through him. His eyes drawn to his cock as it leaks more ore when he can see him and he hums. His eyes meet Hurricane, and there's a devious look there as he grabs the lube, spreading his legs wider.]

[The tentacles in his ass settle, fully buried inside him, but no longer thrusting. They do squirm, but its only a minor friction. The one between his thighs pull back, only the head visible, and also settles. The tentacles shift Hurricane forward, bending him not quite all the way over, not letting him a chance to get more then the faintest touch of his cock to tge one between his thighs.]

Don't worry, your cock will get plenty of attention. [His fingers of his free hand, covered in lube, reaches between his own legs,pressing a finger inside with a gasp, pumping it at a sedate pace. His other hand still pumping his cock slowly.] But first, I'm gonna make sure my pretty little fucktoy gets what he wants. The chance to be used thoroughly. Your body is absolutely perfect to get off so many cocks after all. [He presses in a second finger with a hiss.]

[Two more move to his hands, pressing to his palms, the grip on his arms loosening some so he's granted some movement. Some. If he tries for his own cock, they'll tighten and pull him away. The ones on his chest start alternating, sucking hard on his nipples, before releasing him to rub against the nubs gently, before sucking hard again. More tentacles wind around his body, a slow, steady touch over him.] And. You'll get a show. Soon. [And another tentacle presents itself to Hurricane at mouth level, the new angle letting him still see Rye while his mouth is occupied.] But first, show that cock how desperate you are to be fucked. [An order with another push of pheromones.]

[Hurricane makes a strangled, wanting kind of noise as the tentacles inside him stop moving; he whines and twists against the hold of the tentacles, immediately beginning to rock back. He's fighting hard to do it - trying with all his strength to fuck himself on the tendrils resting inside him, thick and heavy and maddeningly still]

Rye - ah, jesus, please - please - I need it - I n-need it so bad. It's burning me up inside, I - f-fuck me, fill me up, lemme - lemme move -

[The whine is almost plaintive, when Rye eases first one finger into himself and then the other; Hurricane's cock, untouched, pulses harder this time, a long strand of precome dripping down toward the comforter. He begins rocking back harder now, desperate - can't not reach for his own erection, needing to take himself in hand like he needs to breathe. When the tentacles tighten and pull him away again, he outright sobs - sobs again, harder, as the want collides with the sudden intense suction against his nipples]

O-oh my god. Please, it feels like - like torture. I wanna touch you, I want you to touch me, I need - g-god it's making me crazy, and I love it, and I - nn, don't - don't listen to that, I wanna finish, please touch me, t-touch me -

[His voice breaks on the last word, trembling into silence. He takes a shaking breath in to start again, and then Rye is lifting a new tentacle to his lips]

[He mewls when the pheromones kick up a notch, fighting for all he's worth to get more, to get anything. He takes the tentacle in front of him into his mouth, eagerly - urgently - tongue rippling against the underside as he moves to swallow it down]

[With the tentacles around his legs and body, he's only able to do little more than squirm. The tentacles buried in him not even moving more than an inch despite his best attempts. Rye watching him writhe, licking his lips as the pre leaks from him.]

Gods, you look amazing like this. So utterly gorgeous. You want so bad, beg so pretty, and your cock always makes such a mess. I love making you crazy, love how much you enjoy being tortured before I fuck your brains out. Impossible for anyone to not try to get off, watching you. [He glances to the side.] Plenty certainly are. [His eyes focus on Hurricane, his hand stroking himself a little faster, fingers thrusting into himself.]

Jerk off those cocks in your hand, pet. How do you want to used like them? How do you want me to touch myself?

[He moans as Hurricane takes him in, the feeling of the tongue, how deep he's trying to take him. The tentacles on his torso loosen, enough to take him as deep as he wants.] Gods, you're getting so good at that. Soon I really could just. Just put you on your knees and. Fuck your throat in earnest. Go on. More. [He presses in a third figure with a groan.]

[The sound that leaves Hurricane's throat is a broken sort of keening noise, muffled by the tentacle still in his mouth; the tears standing at the corners of his eyes overflow at last and spill down his cheeks]

[He takes the tentacle in his mouth as far back as it will go - chokes himself going too fast - swallows, convulsively, around the bulk of it. He's trying again before he's recovered completely - whines, and coughs, and has to draw back again, too eager for his own ability]

[He can't seem to stop struggling - can't seem to stop trying to fuck himself on the tentacles impaling him, even as he flushes a dark red when Rye points out the actions of the audience. Despite the humiliation, he can't force himself to be still, no matter how little it's doing to allieviate the need flooding through him]

[There are noises around the tentacle in his mouth, by now - wordless pleas, maybe, a series of needy whimpers as he fights to get any kind of satisfaction at all]

[When Rye tells him to jerk off the tentacles he's holding, he tries to shake his head - because he needs it himself, and he aches, and the pressure is racheting up with each passing second, an imperative to touch that he has no way to satisfy. His hands are too busy straining against the hold of the tentacles to stroke them off, struggling desperately to get to his own cock as the heat from the pheromones crashes over him in waves]

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