|This post contains Adult|
Language or themes.
This is Fantasy Boys XXX fiction entry for the 27th Drabble Cascade.
I'm still blaming Charis, one of our regular drabblers, for this idea, because she wrote potential tentacle porn two weeks ago, but I'm also blaming Meepy Meep, who when I wrote this tentacle porn last week (I've also included it at the bottom of this note), said she was wondering about the character and his situation, and I was also thinking the same thing.
I admit, I have completely failed on the length target for either drabble, or flash fiction, because this little scenario had wings, plus I rewrote the ending a couple of times, because it wasn't right and my beta, Tasha, told me so! :) Sooo, I hope you like it.
Prequel To I Am You: Exertions
A bead of sweat trickled down his back as he propped himself up on his elbows. He stretched into the sensation, the tiny line of titillation pooling where the curve of his spine met his buttocks.
“You are possessed of a certain rude sexuality, human,” the voice came from behind him, contrasting coolly to the heat that saturated everything on this damned planet.
He stared out of the wide, reinforced window at the red storm that was slamming into it and, indeed, much of the sparse, rocky country beyond. He’d never been on such a wild planet before, it was nothing like home, and he let the savage nature take away the remainder of his energy with it. Locking his knees in place he made sure his jelly-like muscles kept him upright for a little longer.
“You may lean against my strength, human,” that absurdly calm voice spoke from right behind him, and he would have turned, but a smooth chest pressed up against his shoulders and took away any ability to move.
Slumping against the cooler skin, he was glad of the first pair of arms that came round and held him, stopping him from toppling sideways, but the second pair, which rubbed round his waist and down over his hips made him groan with disbelief. He was spent, in mind and body: his muscles ached, his thoughts were high above him, lost in the storm and he couldn’t help himself, he trembled at the idea this creature wasn’t finished with him yet.
The three digits of one hand scratched a little at the dark hair above his limp cock, while the other palm stroked across his stomach, the gripping ridges catching his skin in a way he had found he liked - a lot - since he had begun this liaison, but he had nothing left to offer and he whined as his senses threatened to rebel.
“You find our weather fascinating, human?”
The question took him by surprise, since any brain capacity he had left was focused on the way those touches were creeping very gradually lower. Slightly confused, but not willing to offend, he looked back out at the storm and watched the swirling eddies of red mist that danced over the landscape. He was about to reply in the affirmative, but the hold around his shoulders flexed and somehow he knew his reply had been understood anyway.
“The storms of Firefall are indeed spectacular, you are with us during our warmest time of year,” his host continued, right into his ear, breath teasing his neck.
He leant into the pleasant effect, shivering again and wondering how he would survive this.
“You are much like them, human,” the next observation drifted past him, as he became a little lost in the tiny starts of cooler air on his hot, sweaty skin. “You burn brightly, but your seasons turn, waning to the still of Ashlay.” The moments of freshness really were a very comfortable feeling in the midst of the sticky atmosphere and he paid no heed to the words that accompanied them. “Yet, given a little time and a pinch of power,” he started violently and cried out as breath was replaced by a sting of tongue on his vulnerable neck, but he could not break free from the powerful arms as something like lightning daggered from the touch right down his body, “you can be persuaded to return to the wildness of Firefall.”
He wasn’t sure if he was in pain, or ecstasy as the jolt spread out to every fibre of his body, but his host held him tightly against firm muscle as the effect took him. Bright spots fired in the storm outside, or they might have been just in front of his eyes as his body failed to cope. Yet, the shock dissipated quickly, easing to a warmth of energy that saturated his pores and woke him. His muscles were still tired, his thoughts not altogether coherent, but of one thing he was very sure, with the warmth came pleasure and his body began to respond.
He still murmured his disbelief of it all as those alien fingers finished their descent, wrapping around the beginnings of his erection, and he pushed back against muscular fronds that swept up between his thighs from his holder’s groin, widening his stance and allowing them to fondle his balls.
“You are lacking in limbs, you are small and your control of your own body is woeful,” his holder told him, drawing a gasp out of him with a quick pump on his sensitised dick. Yet, for the first time, he detected something other than cool disdain in the tone that spoke to him and the reason came with, “But, against all the odds, I must conclude that you and I are compatible.”
He murmured his approval of that observation, relaxing back against the substantial chest behind him once more and sinking into the caress that was taking him way beyond his limits.
“You have won human, our races shall make trade. Return to the bed and we shall make the pact.”
Instantly, the stroking ended and he was left bereft and achingly hard as his host simply walked away. Slowly, processing the words that had been spoken, he turned around and watched his smooth-skinned, supple-bodied host stroll back to the large, flat, padded rectangle that sufficed as a bed.
‘Join the diplomatic corps,’ they said.
‘See the galaxy,’ they said.
Somehow, he had never envisaged any negotiation ever being like this. Yet, his erection was showing no sign of diminishing and he really wanted to reach out and touch the firm body walking away from him. Flushed with success, but more interested in exactly how they would seal their treaty, he followed in his host’s footsteps and headed back to the bed.
As with everything that had happened since he had landed on this out-of-the-way, but precious planet, he had no idea what was supposed to take place, so he stopped when he reached the foot of the elevated mattress and waited for instruction. His host, tall, exotic and aloof, did not even glance his way, and not for the first time he wondered what senses were in use, because it was not just sight as the order was given as soon as he came to a halt, “Sit down.”
The command held a remoteness once more, but his dick throbbed at the confidence of the tone, reminding him that he was not at all averse to such a manner. He obeyed, turning and seating himself, his back now to his host and, as he once again looked out of the window at the raging winds, he felt the currents of whatever venom his host had used on him heating his veins. He knew he was not thinking clearly, the clammy atmosphere alone was enough to cloud his mind, but the power in his body was too good to resist and he felt a tiny smile curling his lips as he indulged the pinprick surges of desire that were keeping him hard.
When a shadow fell across him, he looked sideways in time to see his host stalk round in front of him, and he couldn’t stop himself staring. The creature, a race the translator didn’t even have a name for, was bipedal, humanoid, but built like an ancient god, crimson skin glistening in the light as muscles flexed with every movement. He couldn’t fail to be impressed at seven feet of sculpted power, but he found his attention settling on the hundreds of long filaments hanging between his host’s legs, each undulating to their own individual rhythm. They made him clench just looking at them as he recalled their insinuating massages that had taken him over the edge time and again thus far.
“What are you called, human?” the question was unexpected and broke him out of his lustful reverie, forcing him to glance up at the unblinking owlish eyes that had regarded him so coldly since he had arrived.
He opened his mouth to reply and his thoughts stalled. He knew his own name, he had lived with it for twenty eight years, and yet, looking up into an alien stare, such an address felt inconsequential. He shut his mouth again, confused by his own silence. As he failed at the simple question, the last thing he expected was a smile from his host, but those thin, dark lips curled and creases appeared around those wide eyes, making them seem just a little less alien. He was still contemplating that expression when one hand flicked out at him and shoved him backwards. He yelped and sprawled out onto the bed, his heart skipping a beat as his host loomed over him, one set of arms pressing down on his shoulders.
“Well done, human,” his holder praised, smile wide as the second pair of hands stroked down his sides, “listen to what your nekra tells you.”
His translator implant failed, but he understood the message, even if he was not altogether sure what his nekra was, or even what it was trying to say to him. Still, he remained where he had been put as his host stood back, tendrils rippling and stroking his stomach as they withdrew. He lifted his lower body a little, wanting that effervescent touch on his cock as well, but they skirted efficiently around his arousal, leaving him disappointed and aching again.
“You are impatient for the joining,” came in a tone that seemed to him to be half chastisement, half admiration; he rumbled his assent anyhow, wanting those fine, insistent creatures inside him again.
Yet, his host did not move towards him, instead flexing broad hips and letting out the smallest of grunts. The skin around those wide eyes creased again, but this time in a way that made him think of effort. His erection throbbed strongly at the tiny expression, but he had no reason for it until his nostrils filled with a deep musky scent and he noted those alluring tentacles begin to part. What appeared between them was a thick and blunt, glossy, muscular rod of much darker red even than the crimson flesh that rippled around it. The tendrils seemed to him to cradle their secret with a reverence that made him wide-eyed with desire. It would have taken an earthquake to drag his attention away from the organ that darkened and swelled in time with his own passions, even as it also challenged them with its increasing girth.
When his host stepped up close to the bed again, he spread his legs wide, stomach doing flip-flops of want and trepidation all at once, and, despite the disbelief that still sat behind the whole experience, he gave no resistance as his legs were taken and lifted, exposing him to his holder’s mercy.
“Human, trade-bringer, for blood and for bond, I claim you as shantai,” his host told him what he realised his nekra had been whispering to him since the venom had flooded his system and he understood the rite in motion, even if technology failed him again: he was writing the treaty with his own flesh - he would be owned and he, too, would own.
He knew the idea should have appalled him, would have appalled the ambitious and expendable junior diplomat who had climbed out of his spacecraft to greet an unknown culture, but that man was a lifetime away; he didn’t even want his name anymore. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back, sunk his elbows into the mattress and offered himself to the heated bargain.
His host did not keep him waiting and he started when those heavenly tentacles greeted his surrender first. They danced everywhere over his groin and he groaned his pleasure as they returned to undulating over his balls and some took up a new position as they wrapped themselves around the base of this erection. It was almost too much as venom and desire rose to greet them and he hurtled towards the edge of orgasm, but his host’s chastisement stuck in his mind then: he would control his own body. Digging his elbows more definitely into the mattress, he opened his eyes, glared at the domination above him and snarled at his own weaknesses. With every effort he had left, he hung on to his reactions, refusing the heady pleasure of release. It wiped his energy and he ended up collapsing back onto the bed panting and whining in equal measure as the tendrils continued to massage his erogenous zones, but the white hot moment passed.
His own senses reeling, it took him a few moments to realise that, apart from his tentacles, his host hadn’t moved in many seconds and then he blinked up at his holder, not sure what he was going to see. The expression before him was a raise of hairless brow that he thought was surprise, but it was the bright eyes he looked to that told him he had impressed this alien who would be his.
No more words, the oath had been made and a heartbeat later, that large, damp rod pressed against his entrance. This time he did not look away, he held the stare and let this creature see his mix of trepidation and lust as slowly he was opened. His well-used muscles gave way to the lubricated organ, parting at first with an ache that spoke of the hours of preparation he had enjoyed. Yet, those delicious tendrils could not compare to the measured, firm demand that took him, and he panted into it, body flexing and mind soaking with pain-pleasure vulnerability.
Being so open was a new experience for one used to word games and power plays. It held an exotic thrill, but as he was gradually spread, that defencelessness began to dig at him, tainting the heady desire which had led to his surrender. An instinct to resist began to rise in his belly, even though he knew there was nothing he could do against the strength controlling him. His pant became a grunt of real pain when he clenched against the testing intrusion into his body and the moment threatened to die.
Yet, in response to his fear, quickly there were palms rubbing up his body, stroking, supportive, and that wide alien stare softened. The warmth in his body lifted as its owner caressed his abs, but the sensation was gentle and reassuring, easing away the momentary pique. The demand had halted at his sudden panic, giving him time to breathe and, gratefully, he sunk into the mattress and reached for the hands that were running over him. Digits entwined easily with his own and his alien leant further over him, bringing him a strength he needed as the weight of reality threatened.
However still his lover was holding, though, they were both living, breathing flesh and every draw of air sent tiny reminders all over him that he was body to body with the power above him and perspective did not stand a hope against that. As if the realisation was on his lips, not just in his mind, he felt his holder push gently into him again, testing, and this time, he did not resist. He let out a long, low groan as the demand began once more and the wash of endorphins scattered the rest of his thoughts.
His mind floated free in the intense experience, his gaze getting lost in the overwhelming stare of his lover, the rest of his senses full of sex and the terrifying desire that he could not control. He gripped those supporting hands hard, pulling against them and shifting his body with a base instinct that ran in time with the venom that pulsed around his body. It was not easy, his alien was large, bigger than any man he had ever had and his muscles complained, but he was finally filled to the full length of that impressive shaft and his alien paused once more, at least in body.
His physical surrender complete, he felt the penetration push further and his open thoughts flexed as hard as his muscles as a foreign presence slipped into them.
[You feel me now, shantai?] the words formed in his mind, no need for inadequate technological translation now.
[Yes,] he replied, his instincts taking on the strange experience far quicker than his logical brain could cope with and he gripped tightly to the hands holding his as his thoughts felt like they might skip away from him.
[We are one.]
[We are one,] he repeated the thought, desire and fear falling over and over behind that idea: when he felt a brush of trepidation that was not his own, it felt oddly better and he refocused his gaze on the one above who was feeling less alien by the heartbeat.
As he looked deep into those yellow irises, he moved past that cool exterior that had fired his passions and he realised something.
[You did not choose this,] he formed his conclusion into words as a small start of alarm ran down his spine.
That made him tighten, which distracted him with sensation and he lost himself to the endorphins for a while, but when he came back to himself, there was a palm resting against his cheek and a face smiling only inches from his own.
[There can be no pact unless each side is one with the other. I knew the law, but I did not understand what it meant when I was selected to be negotiator, and, neither, I think, did you, shantai.]
[With union comes understanding,] he continued on the thought from above him as everything began to make sense. [I am you, Wen L’Ata.]
[And I am you, Kieran Williams,] his lover finished their conclusion, and he couldn’t help it, he laughed the joy and perversity of the idea that meant any negotiator would be invested in making sure the outcome of a treaty was the best for both parties.
The effect of his chuckles on their union was way too much for him to cope with, so he stilled quickly, reaching up and hooking his arms around his alien’s neck before he relaxed into the dual pairs of arms that now held him, just a smile left of his amusement.
[We make terms later,] filled his head then, a mixture of consternation and desire coming at him, and he began to notice that his holder was shaking with the effort of keeping their union still.
He deepened his smile to an all out grin and, lifting himself up against his alien, pushed onto the wonderful sensations that held no fear anymore. His lover took the come hither and began to move, withdrawing slowly. After the intense, full feeling, having his shantai parting from him sent such a feeling of emptiness through him, that he whined. His loss was answered in quick time though, sex thrusting deep into him again and this time, the move hit the spot. He cried out as he saw stars, going weak and letting go of his hold as his body flooded with more sensation than he had thought possible. His lover swore, at least he was almost sure he swore, because the translator could not cope with the audible expression. Another thrust quickly followed the first and, embracing the bond forged by venom and sex, he let cohesive thought give way to pleasure once more.
Ata sat on the bed, legs crossed, geemi fruit gripped delicately in the fingers of one hand and tapping the hologram hovering in front of him with the digits from the other. He would have liked a second pair right then, and, as K had kept teasing him whenever he ran out of hands during their love-making, he was beginning to appreciate that Jakrash had a better ration of limbs. He paused a second in his work as his brain took him back to several steamy memories of exactly how well K could put his four hands to use and he smiled to himself. In fact, he had four or five days of intensive union and negotiation, Ata wasn’t sure exactly which, since he hadn’t been keeping track for the first two or three days, to think on in the absence of his shantai.
The first draft of the treaty was ready and K had been called away by his superiors to report. Alone for the first time since the Tach’am, as Ata had eventually learnt it was called, had begun, he had found himself restless and had finally decided that some personal research might distract him from the fact his shantai was not close by anymore. Thus, he had opened the panel they had used to record their treaty decisions and begun to wander through the Jakrash databases.
As another page came up, Ata recognised a swirling picture of a fire storm, and he called a halt as he remembered K’s early observations of him. Compared to K’s sometimes rigid control of his own body, Ata had to admit he was indeed woefully erratic, but K, he thought, had come to appreciate that in him, in fact, he had even begun to find ways to inspire a few storms in his alien. ‘His alien’, Ata ran that thought back through his mind, as he gazed at the cascading lights in the holographic version of the deadly storm and realised his term of endearment no longer really applied. He was Ata now, Keiran had been left behind, and Wen L’Ata had become K, neither of them fully human, nor fully Jakrash, a harmony instead of the two beings they had been in order that a trading treaty could be negotiated for the benefit of two peoples.
Ata considered that idea as he gingerly bit into the geemi fruit and felt the juice instantly trickle down his arm: like the beautifully sweet flesh of the fruit, he had found himself becoming addicted to K as Jakrash venom remade him and he could not say he disliked it, in fact, he could not think of another time he had been as content. He had no doubt there would be human doctors demanding he submit to examination as soon as the Tach’am was over, but he pushed that thought away for another time and took a suddenly disconcerted second bite out of the geemi fruit.
That proved to be too much juice, and sticky drips left his elbow and landed on his leg. That was something else he was also getting used to, having to wash after consuming the fruit. Still, the benefit of being naked was that he didn’t have any clothes to rinse, so he ignored the splashes of green juice that hit his inner thigh and pressed on with his research.
He’d learnt a lot from K as their negotiations had progressed: he could recognise the forty one letters of the Jakrash alphabet now and simple words popped out of the screen at him as he scanned the vertical forms that made up their writing system, but he was a long way from understanding what he was reading yet. Still, he had found a useful tool on this database, and, wanting to leave his uncomfortable thought behind, he highlighted a word and requested, “Hes.”
“Loothka,” what he thought was a female voice told him helpfully and he ran his eyes over the letters and then repeated the sound back.
He’d turned off his translator implant only a few hours into the negotiations, as it had got in the way of the telepathy he and K now shared, and the sounds of the Jakrash language were still strange to his human ear, but he was slowly getting his very un-mobile tongue round them. However, as the bed dipped behind him, it wasn’t his ears that felt, [What are you doing, Ata?]
[Learning,] he replied, relief flooding him far more than he had expected as arms came round him, and he leant quickly back into his returning shantai’s dual hold.
One pair of arms made him feel instantly safe again, coming round his shoulders, while his appreciation of K’s extra pair of hands leapt again as the lower couple descended round his waist and then stroked over his thighs. K’s tongue flicked against his neck and he sighed into the tease, the venom-dimension to his blood rising in tandem.
[Human databanks had next to nothing about Jakrash in them, so I am starting from precious little,] he continued. [You are a mystery.]
[Not so much now, I hope, shantai,] K replied, amusement in his tone as he scratched at Ata’s inside leg.
[Maybe,] Ata replied, smiling to himself as he slipped his own hand back between their two bodies and down into the loose robe he had watched K put on before leaving the bedroom.
K’s poyan, those wonderful tendrils, rose up to greet him, stroking up over his forearm as he wended his way through them to the bulge hanging between his lover’s legs that he had become more than familiar with. He rubbed firmly over the fleshy pouch, which caused K to moan and to bite down on his shoulder. The horny ridges that sufficed as teeth for Jakrash did not break his skin, but Ata took the hint and eased off a little. K’s cool breath scattered fast over his shoulder, a small laugh in his sound.
[Did you miss me, Ata?] he teased, flicking tongue over the tiny soreness of the bite.
“Hmm,” Ata replied, a little part of him wondering at how quickly his life had changed, but not really caring: this was belonging as he had never felt it before.
[Well, the draft has been sent to the humans and Jakrash are reading it as well,] K continued with information that really didn’t interest Ata right at the moment, but then his lover told him, [There will be many corrections we must discuss, no doubt.]
It was Ata’s time to laugh as the thought of more ‘negotiations’ appealed. Still, he shivered as well, and his laughter quickly stalled, because the thought of what humans would think of him now rose again.
[What is the matter, Ata?] K paused the tongue-flicking ministrations, reading him easily.
Ata sagged against his shantai and let the thought form properly. They didn’t always need words to communicate and he felt K stiffen against him as he shared his discomfiture. K’s wrapped arms tightened their hold and he rested a chin on Ata’s shoulder.
[We are e’shant, nothing will ever change that,] K projected his words slowly and clearly and with a possessive need that made Ata’s stomach tie in knots.
Ata dropped the geemi fruit and reached messily for the face next to his own. K leant his cheek instantly into the caress of palm and Ata knew that the feeling in his belly could not be down to mere bodily reactions to toxins, the fear that was sitting at the bottom of his thoughts.
[I didn’t even know your name,] he whispered the shocked thought into K’s mind.
[And you would never have known it, had we not been compatible,] K replied, something near horror behind the words.
His shantai’s disquiet made Ata feel strangely better about his own fears and also gave him courage.
[I think I am falling in love you, K,] he finally admitted what the restlessness of separation and worry meant to him: it was not about venom, it was not about the physical pleasure they had been sharing, it was about the proud, strong and wily person he had been talking, arguing and laughing with during Tach’am.
[Humans must enjoy labelling things,] K responded, something of a reprimand in his tone and, shocked, Ata pulled forward, turning to glare at his shantai.
Yet, his glower was met by a smile, K’s wide eye’s creasing round the edges and the prickly defensiveness that had flooded Ata just as quickly began to subside. Still, he didn’t understand the look and it kept him poised on his knees a few inches away from K.
[You try to name everything,] K told him, shrugging his first set of shoulders. [It is…endearing.]
Ata didn’t very much like being patronised and he ruffled. However, K just chuckled and reached out a hand to his shoulder.
[I do not mock, my human,] he continued, rubbing his palm ridges softly over Ata’s skin, [but I think, sometimes, we are as strange to each other as day is to night.]
In front of him, K slowly shrugged off the modest garment he had been wearing, something that inspired a rise in Ata’s body, but he stared hostilely at K, neither explanation, nor lust enough to placate the rebuff he had been given. Yet, then he felt it, something moving deep inside him, something that was warm and cold at the same time, inspiring pleasure and pain, fear and joy and he gasped as it grew with the speed of a ball of fire-plasma. It took over his whole being and he shuddered with the weight of it, sure it was going to overwhelm him, but before he could collapse underneath it, two sets of arms came round him and pulled him close. He reached instantly back, burying his face into K’s smooth chest and choking out his reaction to the wonderful and terrifying feelings.
[I am you, shantai,] K whispered in his head, his body also beginning to shake and his tone broken by the power he had shared.
[I am you, shantai,] Ata replied then without reservation, the oath bringing the cascade of emotions down to manageable proportions and, as the moment receded, he relaxed into K’s arms, knowing he had the reply he needed.
They held together silently as their storm subsided, their bodies and minds stilling to a more comfortable companionship. However, eventually K shifted and Ata smiled to himself as just a hint of disdain drifted into his mind: he knew what was coming.
[Shantai, you have made me all sticky,] K’s words did not surprise him and Ata sat up, dragging his still very tacky palm down K’s chest as he did so, because he knew it would draw a gloriously conflicted shiver out of his lover: K, he had discovered during times when they had mixed food and sex, did not like being dirty.
K scowled at him, brows knitting in such an adorable way that Ata grinned and dropped his hand even lower, fingers scratching over K’s stomach muscles and teasing the top of his poyan. However, before he could go lower, K grabbed Ata’s wrist, lifting his touch away with one hand while the other three grabbed for his body and Ata had no hope of resisting the greater strength of his seven foot lover as he was flipped efficiently onto his back. A laugh escaping his chest, Ata embraced the tussle, twisting his hips and swinging the flat of his hand up at K’s chest, but his other wrist was also swiftly caught and he found himself pinned to the bed by strong hands and deliciously flexing muscle.
He resisted a little longer, but K stilled above him and he relaxed under his shantai’s increasingly intense stare. Geemi juice forgotten, Ata wiggled one wrist and K instantly released him, placing his hand next to Ata’s head instead. Ata put his now free hand to use, stroking back down over K’s stomach again and this time, his lover stretched into the touch and poyan rippled easily up to welcome him again. K murmured and then bared his horny plates at Ata as he slipped fingers in between the muscled fronds to feel out his prize once more.
Ata’s buttocks clenched with anticipation when his fingers danced over the damp opening of the veva pouch and he felt the head of K’s arousal pressing through. Now very familiar with his shantai’s anatomy, he caught his nails gently against the parting skin, pushing it back just a little, and he got the shivering, earthy growl from K that he wanted. Poyan latched around his arm so tightly it hurt, but K still rocked helplessly forward into his palm and Ata pressed against the cool, glossy organ. His own groin pulsing, Ata stroked lightly, beginning to coax his prize out of its sheath.
K rocked and moaned and sighed, his head tipping back, eyes closing and a look of ecstasy on his chiselled features. Ata could have given himself to that, bringing his alien all the way to climax just for that lost half-smile on K’s face, but K, it became apparent, had other ideas. For a second time, Ata found his wrist grabbed, which shocked him out of the reverie, because it was accompanied by an almighty snarl from K and his touch was forced away. However, K then moved with such urgency, Ata’s body obeyed before his mind caught up; K descended on him, poyan spreading wide over his groin, between his legs, wrapping tightly round the base of his growing erection and drawing their arousals together. Ata flexed and reared with a heady yell as K’s slick veva slid down over his cock, but it was nothing compared to the tight, glossy sensation that surrounded him as he slid over the stretched skin of the pouch under the base of K’s veva. His sound became a low moan and he thrust helplessly into the divinely soft, but tight hold and he knew he was going to be ‘woefully’ uncontrolled again. Still, it was too good a sensation to give up, and he repeated his action.
K hissed and panted, a wild sound Ata had never heard from him before and he moved against the thrusts with a shuddering, erratic movement. Ata’s conclusion that he was not the only one out of control would have been a little self-satisfied if he hadn’t been so distracted by the wonderful twin feelings of his cock pressing into K and K’s veva sliding up over his abdomen, swelling in tandem with his own arousal. He knew he could not last long with such new and intense sensations, so he surrendered to them and let his body do what it wanted.
K was on the same heady ride, Ata was completely sure of that, given the rushes of hot passion that were filling his brain, and he opened up to it all. A few more thrusts were all it took and Ata tensed in tandem with K as the world went away in white hot ecstasy.
Ata came down from orgasm more slowly than he has ascended into it, ripples of pleasure and sensitivity travelling all over his body and keeping him distracted. Yet, slowly, the world came back into focus, and it was the lovely, but just-too-much sensation of fingers playing in the curls at the base of his spent cock that made him wriggle, whine and finally focus on the owner of those digits. K was lying on his side next to him, propped up on one elbow, his cheeks pale, which was the equivalent of a flush in humans, his elongated pupils dilated and a cocky grin all over his face.
[I have been wondering what that would feel like for some time,] he almost crowed into Ata’s mind.
[Incredible,] Ata replied without reservation and took a large lungful of air to settle his still spinning senses.
K gave an open-mouth laughed and nodded and left Ata in no doubt they’d surprised each other – it wasn’t for the first time and he knew in the many seasons they had ahead, it wouldn’t be the last.