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It wasn’t exactly a new development in Carlos’s life… people had liked him in the past. He wasn’t… bad looking, he supposed. Not great or anything, he was no statue, or football player, not at the peak of his physical fitness potential. But… he guessed he could imagine people falling for him.
And he was certainly capable of falling for them. But that was where the problem came in.
Carlos was so worried about people not liking him—especially the ones he wanted to like him—that he got tripped up on it.
And with Cecil, who liked him for no real reason, he was so terrified he was going to mess it up. He had listened to his broadcasts, trying to pick up tips on what it was that he liked, so that Carlos could try and be… more of that.
But he was always vague. Hair, teeth, physical things. His voice. Things that probably wouldn’t change between now and Thursday. But what would happen if he got nervous, ran a hand through his hair, and messed it up? What if he swallowed wrong and his voice got all scratchy? What if he said something horrible that offended Cecil with that voice? What if he ate something that got caught between his teeth?
The what ifs weren’t even the worst part, though—those he was at least semi-prepared for because he had already considered them. No, the worst were the things he didn’t count on going wrong.
The parts he couldn’t plan out and script through, ahead of time.
Basically all the parts of interaction that… involved interaction. That was the part he was the worst at.
Things sounded better, or at least different, in his head. He didn’t have time to think before he spoke, and you could tell by the way his words tumbled out—rude and not meant to be, or jumbled or slurred. He was such a mess. He didn’t know how he hadn’t driven Cecil off before now.
And the worst part was that the last date had ended with a long, lingering kiss, and Cecil’s breathy promise of “Next time.”
He knew what that next time meant. And if he thought he was awkward at socializing, it was nothing compared to how awkward he got in bed.
That was usually the deal breaker. His last ex had actually told him that he thought maybe Carlos was secretly straight—or asexual.
But he wasn’t. He’d tried women, and that… had actually made matters worse, if possible. And it wasn’t like he didn’t have a sex drive, didn’t want to have sex, didn’t enjoy it …well enough.
It was just.
Awkward.
He sighed deeply into his mirror, decided to fuck it and put the hair product in anyway—if Cecil hated it, at least maybe he would focus on that instead of any of Carlos’s deeper flaws, and he would be able to put off the inevitable of losing him for just… a little longer.
Cecil came up to the door, and Carlos answered it, trying to keep it under control and losing it immediately when he saw that Cecil had worn a coat this time… over some kind of gambeson or something in bright teal, and lime green… tights? Fluffy ones.
He meant to tell him how nice it was that he would come to the door in this time of technology and instant gratification, but what came out instead was,
“You could have texted.”
Immediately he wanted to slam the door in Cecil’s face, slam his face into the door, and call the whole thing off. He entertained a fantasy of doing just that.
“I know!” Cecil chirped. “But I’d rather come get you myself.” He gave him a warm smile and offered him an elbow, and Carlos couldn’t help but be charmed out of his anxiety, if only a little.
He rested his hand on Cecil’s arm with aplomb appropriate for formal dancing, and walked comfortably out to the car. Cecil insisted on opening his door for him, then went around to his side and got in.
He buckled himself up, turned to look at Carlos, then his eyes flicked up to Carlos’s hair, and he frowned minutely.
This was it, Carlos thought. He held his breath and closed his eyes, as though that would make the oncoming critique hurt any less. As if he was bracing for a physical blow, rather than just words.
“You’ve got a little gel. Here.” Cecil wiped just in front of Carlos’s ear with his thumb, and then wiped his hands on the fluff of his pants.
Carlos opened one eye a crack, then both of them, but Cecil had already turned his attention to starting the car.
“So. Um. Where do you want to… eat?” Carlos managed to force out.
“I thought maybe, if you’re cool with it, Jerry’s Tacos? I know Rico’s is closer, but… I already had my weekly bowl of pizza, and I’m sure you eat there pretty often yourself.”
“Jerry’s is fine. I like Jerry’s.” Carlos agreed quickly, not wanting to give the impression that he was hesitant or less than enthusiastic about Cecil’s choice.
Cecil gave him a lopsided little grin, then put his car in drive.
The date itself went well enough. They got food, Carlos relaxed and managed not to put his foot in his mouth. They talked about cats and mountains and birds of prey and how helicopters work. He got some cilantro stuck in the small gap between his front teeth, and Cecil just pointed it out to him, managing not to laugh, which… gave Carlos a sort of quiet hope for the rest of the evening.
Provided he could actually steel himself for it.
They went out to Cecil’s car, and Carlos backed Cecil up against it and began kissing him. A soft, sweet kiss that thanked him for understanding, for not pulling back when Carlos was barbed and not really fit for human company. He knew all too well that that was often the case, with him. More often than not, in fact.
Cecil deepened it, pulled Carlos in close and tangled their legs together, his tongue stroking Carlos’s palette and his hands winding around Carlos’s head.
Carlos couldn’t decide whether to panic or sink into it. It felt good, he enjoyed it. He wanted more, wanted to thrust himself against the thigh that Cecil offered him so kindly, but he also wanted to put an end to it before he made a fool of himself. What if he came in his pants like an idiot teenager? What if he couldn’t come at all? Or couldn’t achieve more than the partial erection he was sporting now?
He got so wrapped up in worrying that he forgot to respond. He just froze up, and Cecil pulled away, though he kept touching him, rested his hands on Carlos’s shoulder.
Cecil seemed… hurt. Or concerned.
“Carlos? Is… was that too much? I’m sorry.” Cecil blurted it out, and Carlos shook his head emphatically, almost violently.
“No. No, that’s. That was good. It’s not you.” He patted Cecil’s hand awkwardly, then added, “I’m sorry.”
“Do.. do you want me to just take you home? Because we can, I mean. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”
“No!” the word burst out of Carlos’s mouth before he even realized he had thought it. Or maybe the problem was simply that he hadn’t thought.
“I.” He took a deep breath. “I’m. You know how I get? Around you? Where I can’t find words and I get all… dumb?”
“You aren’t dumb.” Cecil hastened to reassure him. “You’re one of the smartest people I know. The smartest, probably. I would never call you dumb.”
“I know you wouldn’t. But I get that way. I don’t know. It’s—you make me nervous. Not you, nothing you do just. I…” he took a deep breath and blew it out harshly, well aware how pathetic he was starting to sound. “I want you to like me. And that makes me nervous.”
“Oh Carlos.” Normally, at this point in a date, the guy he was with was either over him or was pitying him. Cecil, on the other hand, sounded like he’d just won some kind of prize.
“Beautiful, wonderful Carlos, I already like you. I like everything about you. I even like that you get worried about me not liking you—or I’d be worried you were too perfect. As it is, I spend a lot of time wondering why you ever decided to go out with me.” Cecil was self deprecating, but he said it so cheerfully that Carlos actually became a little concerned for how often he must have asked himself that, to reach that level of acceptance of his own perceived inferiority. That concern, of course, was highly hypocritical.
“No, no Cecil—I…” Carlos tripped over his tongue and just swallowed, choked up and feeling like he was going to cry. People that weren’t him didn’t have this problem. It was so stupid. He wanted to go back to kissing, wanted to go to Cecil’s apartment and take him to bed and just… be normal.
“So you’re worried about going further because you think you’ll let me down, somehow?”
“I am so bad in bed, Cecil. Everyone I’ve been with says so. I just… get excited, or get anxious…and there’s always something missing. I…”
“You’ve never been with me, and no matter what you do, it will be perfect, Carlos. Perfect, do you hear me?” Cecil held his hands between them, looking far more impassioned than any person should be able to, standing in the dusty unpaved parking lot of a taco shop.
Carlos shook his head sadly. “I’m not perfect, Cecil. Weren’t you listening?” The feeling in his chest was similar to the one he’d gotten in middle school when one of the popular, pretty girls had come to ask him out, as a mean joke. He’d known what it was, could see everyone standing around staring at him. But he still hadn’t been able to stammer out the refusal that would have helped save him face—because he wanted her to like him. He’d wanted all of them to like him.
Cecil wasn’t pulling a prank on him, but this still had that impending feeling of failure hovering over it, like a cloud made of void, just sucking all of the good out of the situation.
“Sweet Carlos, you’re perfect to me. Haven’t you been listening?” Cecil asked him with a mildly exasperated smile. “We can do whatever you want to. If you want me to take you home, I will. If you want to come to my place and try, we can do that too. And if it doesn’t work out right now, that’s fine. We can try again whenever you want. Or not at all if you don’t want.” Cecil shrugged, and held his arms open, as if showing off all of the possibilities.
Carlos rubbed at his lower lip.
“I do want to try. With you. But if I’m awful…”
“If you’re awful, which you won’t be, but if you really are, I promise I am very experienced and very good at taking care of myself. And we can both enjoy the bonus of you watching.” The grin that accompanied that statement was positively filthy, and Carlos was certain he actually could feel his pulse spike at the tone of Cecil’s voice.
“O-okay. If you’re sure.” Carlos was done objecting. He had tried warning him, and he was going to do his level best—maybe if he could get Cecil to talk through all of it…
The ride back to Cecil’s consisted of strained and uncomfortable silence on Carlos’s behalf, and excited jittery factoids and rambling on Cecil’s.
“Did you know that a group of ferrets is called a business of ferrets? I kinda wonder what sort of business a business of ferrets would run. Maybe something dairy related. Did you know both female and male ferrets have eight nipples each? Neat, huh?” Carlos would make a noncommittal noise of semi-agreement, they would lapse into silence, and then—
“Once every two years in Tahiti, someone dies from being struck by a falling coconut. So probably it’s good that Sir Isaac Newton wasn’t from Tahiti—or else he might have died, and we might not know about gravity, and without the attention it would act up a lot more than it already does.”
Carlos’s knuckles were nearly white where they were gripping the seat when they finally pulled into the covered parking behind Cecil’s building. He didn’t want to start trying to talk logic with Cecil—he was on edge and he was afraid he’d snap, or worse, get wrapped up in it and carried away.
Cecil let them into the apartment and closed and locked his door behind them.
He turned around, took one look at Carlos standing stiffly and avoiding meeting his eyes, and he sighed.
“Carlos, this won’t ever work if you’re that tense. Look. What if, tonight… just let me touch you. I’ll give you a massage, and we can work up to anything more at your speed, okay?”
“No, I mean, I want—“
“Massage.” Cecil said firmly, and took off his coat.
Carlos’s heart jumped into his throat while he watched Cecil’s long fingered, spidery hands deftly rolling up the sleeves of his long sleeved undershirt. Men in button downs with bared forearms—Carlos had many weaknesses, and this might be the lesser of some of them, but it was there just the same.
“Okay.” He agreed. Then his brain engaged and he realized that Cecil had been wandering around outside, in the desert heat, in a padded arming coat and a long sleeve shirt. How had he not passed out?
The distraction his brain provided gave Cecil time to edge closer, and his first touch made Carlos jump. He immediately felt like an idiot.
“Sorry, I was just.” He cleared his throat. “Do you want me to undress for the massage? I—my body is also not perfect.”
“Darling Carlos, you’re fine. Come to my bedroom with me, there’s something I need to show you.”
Carlos felt very close to hyperventilating, but he took Cecil’s offered hand, any way. Cecil squeezed it reassuringly, and led him down the hall.
Once in his room, Cecil placed Carlos squarely in front of the mirrored door of his closet.
“I know you won’t see yourself the way I see you, but I want you to try, okay?” He asked. Carlos made a little face at that, and Cecil laughed.
“Don’t.” Carlos felt his lips tighten around the words. “Please don’t laugh at me.”
“Shhh, Carlos. No.” Cecil looked so sad, over his shoulder in the reflection. “I laugh when you’re sweet and funny and brilliant and beautiful. I would never laugh at you for being vulnerable or scared or anxious. Never.”
Carlos felt warmth, just the smallest bit of it, but growing, in the pit of his stomach.
“Unless my fear of crickets is involved.” He pointed out, the tiniest glimmer of a smile settling in the corners of his mouth. “Then you can laugh at me for being afraid.”
“Deal!” Cecil exclaimed. He ran the palm of his hand down the outside of Carlos’s arm. “Is it okay if I take your lab coat off, now?” He asked gently. Softly.
Carlos licked his dry lips and nodded. It was just the lab coat. He still had a waistcoat and a shirt. It was fine.
The white fabric peeled away from him, and with it gone his skin looked even darker, looked a richer shade of brown with Cecil’s in close proximity for contrast. Cecil rested his hands on Carlos’s upper arms.
“You look so dashing tonight.” Cecil told him directly in his ear, meeting his eyes in the reflection. “Did you get dressed up just for me?”
“Yes.” Carlos whispered, fighting to hold the gaze instead of dropping his eyes.
“Gorgeous, Carlos. I’m so glad. Vest next?” Cecil asked, and Carlos nodded.
Cecil’s nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons, and then he slid it down Carlos’s arms, the satin lining making a soft swishing sound against the stiff cotton of his shirt.
“I love you like this, Carlos.” He informed him. He stroked over the exposed skin at Carlos’s throat, where a single button was left undone. He had gotten throatier, arousal tinting his voice, and Carlos responded to that, his own body lighting up under the attention.
“You can—if you want. Um. Or I’ll…” He second guessed himself and lifted his hands, unbuttoning the shirt himself. Cecil watched his progress in the mirror, clearly approving. He let it hang, keeping his chest hidden for as long as he could. Once the buttons were undone, he put his arms down and stared Cecil in the face.
“Can I?” Cecil asked, so reverent, like he was asking to hold a new born or open a gift. Carlos swallowed and nodded.
Cecil circled him, placing himself between Carlos and the mirror, and Carlos couldn’t see what Cecil was seeing, any more. But he could see Cecil’s face, see the surprise when he pushed the shoulders back, when Carlos’s pecs came into view.
“Carlos… I don’t know what you were worried about. You’re so beautiful.” The bald sincerity in Cecil’s tone was… so gratifying. It was like Cecil couldn’t see the little bit of pudge around his belly button, the way his hair grew in a trail that widened as it reached his pants waistband. The way he had a definite line where the shirts covered, on his wrists and his neck.
Cecil pulled the shirt all the way off, and then stood up and stood back, holding Carlos’s hands and just drinking him in.
He started feeling fidgety under Cecil’s scrutiny.
“What’s this?” Cecil asked, and traced the line of a scar low on his abdomen.
“I had to have my appendix removed when I was younger. Sorry.” He tacked on, needlessly. The appendix had to be taken out, it was just a thing that happened. He was more apologizing for the scar, for the fact that it was there, and ugly, and Cecil was looking at it.
“Scars aren’t bad. I have some, too. I’ll let you find them, when you’re ready.” Cecil assured him. Then he dropped to his knees. It was sudden, and Carlos wondered if he was having some sort of attack, but Cecil leaned in and his eyes were wide and delighted and he pressed a kiss to the mole on Carlos’s ribcage.
“Oh my god, Carlos, you have freckles.” The way he said it, you’d have thought that Carlos had forgotten to tell him it was Christmas.
Carlos couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, and he found his hand on Cecil’s head, fingers rubbing the roots of his hair. He just wanted to touch him so badly…
“Mmm.” Cecil hummed. “I thought I was supposed to be massaging you, not the other way around.”
Carlos took his hand away quickly, like he’d been stung, and Cecil wrapped his arms around Carlos’s waist and looked up at him, his warm cheek pressed against his lower stomach.
“It’s okay. We can do whatever you want. But I would love to rub these gorgeous muscles of yours, if you’ll let me.” Cecil smiled, a quiet little smile, a shy smile. Stricken with how perfect Cecil was, Carlos reached for him, took him by the shoulders, and pulled him up and into a kiss.
He could feel Cecil’s mouth curving under his lips as he responded, and this time nothing went wrong. There wasn’t… really anything to worry about. Cecil had seen him and wasn’t disgusted. He liked what he looked like. He wanted to touch him, and he wasn’t pushing to fuck Carlos right away… Not like some of his past boyfriends had.
He had even left Carlos’s pants on. And he called him beautiful, over and over again. All of this put him at ease, so that he didn’t mind when Cecil began backing them towards his bed, all the while kissing him like he wanted to impart every bit of adoration he felt into Carlos through his mouth. Cecil’s hands had gone to his front, and he broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt off over his head before he was back to licking inside of Carlos’s mouth.
It was really quite wonderful.
So when his knees bumped the mattress and he ended up sitting on the bed, he didn’t panic. He just sat and looked up at Cecil with a smile on his face. Cecil bent down and kissed him, a little peck, before he pulled back an inch or two and said, “Okay?”
“Perfect.” Carlos responded. “And you’re beautiful.” He added, eyes traveling down Cecil’s chest, taking in the scars that were, indeed, there—some had shapes and looked like they were intentional—like tattoos without ink—others could have been from animals or accidents. They were all small though, shallow cuts that had turned a pinkish silver over his natural skin tone.
“Beautiful.” He repeated.
“Yes, you are.” Cecil stood and circled o behind him, keeping one hand on his shoulder the whole way.
He still felt his hand on his shoulder but he supposed he must have grabbed a bottle of lotion with the other. He wondered how far away it had been, but Carlos could hear the pump of it, and smell the cocoa butter.
And then his hands were on both of Carlos’s shoulders, warm with a thin layer of chilly creaminess between their skins. Cecil pressed his thumbs down, and Carlos felt himself relaxing even more into the touch.
“You’re all knotted up.” Cecil told him mournfully. Carlos wanted to laugh at how sad Cecil sounded about it.
“I’m a nervous person.” Carlos reminded him, by way of explanation.
“Well, I’m no doctor, but I’m going to prescribe you let me do this for you at least once a week. Probably for the rest of time.” Cecil said matter of factly, and Carlos’s heart fluttered.
“I’d like that.” He said softly.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence, and Carlos’s eyes slipped closed. Cecil’s hands moved, sliding lower down his back. Carlos sighed.
“That part always aches.” He said. Cecil hummed.
“Well if you sat up straighter…” he demonstrated, tugging at Carlos. But it was strange. His hands kept moving over the sore muscles while… something else pulled his shoulders back. And yet more somethings pushed at his lower back, urging him into better posture.
His eyes flicked open and he stood and turned around, shocked to see Cecil frozen there, his hands outstretched and four long tentacles hovering in midair. They weren’t frozen though, whipping in small agitated movements like the tail of a discontented cat.
He was going to say something, express disbelief or confusion, but at the look on Cecil’s face, his words died in his mouth.
Cecil had the same expression on his face that Carlos had seen on his own, looking in the mirror while Cecil undressed him. A fear that he was going to be rejected. Told he was awful, or disgusting, or weird.
He wouldn’t do that to anyone. He couldn’t do that to the awful girl at school, and he certainly wouldn’t do that to Cecil now.
So he knelt on the bed, and reached hesitant hands out to one of the tentacles. He looked into Cecil’s face.
“May I?”
“Are you sure?” Cecil’s face went so heartbreakingly hopeful at that. It seemed Carlos wasn’t the only one who had been nervous, had been scared—Cecil was just a lot better at hiding it than Carlos was.
“Absolutely.” Carlos said firmly. Cecil brought the tentacle forward, then paused just short of contact and pulled it back, his face going guarded.
“…do you want to touch me… for science?” Cecil asked, hesitant like he was afraid that he already knew the answer, and knew that he wouldn’t like it, but needed to hear it anyway.
“I am a scientist.” Carlos said. “But also… for personal reasons.”
“Oh.” Cecil said, and it was small. But Carlos felt a nudge against his palm, and then the weight of the tentacle settled into it.
It was surprisingly heavy, for as thin as it was in comparison to an arm or leg, and the texture of it was almost velvety. It was like a tongue, too long out of a mouth and no longer moist, but it was soft, too, like regular skin. Probably secreted its own essential oils. Carlos’s mind took all these observations, while he closed his hand around it and stroked gently down the few inches in his palm. Cecil shuddered.
“What does that feel like, for you?” Carlos asked, and Cecil opened his eyes from where they’d gone half lidded.
He opened his mouth to say something, changed his mind, and stroked his fingertips lightly down the side of Carlos’s face.
“A bit like that. But…” He groped for words. “It… isn’t quite taste. It’s like feeling but… more.” He shrugged, and Carlos stroked it again.
Slowly, carefully, Cecil caused his tentacle to undulate in Carlos’s hand, to slide forward more, and wrap loosely around his wrist.
It was like holding a snake, feeling its muscles bunch and pull, almost like the strings in a shoelace, under their skin.
“Is this… okay?” Cecil asked.
“So much more than okay.” Carlos responded, voice raw with a hunger he hadn’t realized existed. “Cecil… you’re perfect.” He didn’t know how much he’d meant it until the words were out, but he was hard. Rock hard. Harder than he could remember being, pretty much ever.
“Oh.” Cecil said, and he used the tentacle to pull Carlos’s hand up and press it to the side of his face. He rubbed his cheek into Carlos’s palm like a cat, and he looked straight into Carlos’s eyes when he said, “Thank you.” His voice was so raw with relief, and his eyes were shining, and Carlos couldn’t help wanting to lean in and kiss him again.
Cecil responded beautifully, and before he knew it, Carlos was on his back with Cecil above him, their fingers were intertwined while two of Cecil’s tentacles pressed against the headboard to keep him balanced, and the other two roamed across Carlos’s chest. Carlos was shaking now, not with fear or nerves, but with need. With a need he wasn’t used to experiencing in the middle of a coital act, let alone with his pants on.
“Cecil—wow. I.. I don’t, I’ve never…”
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Cecil asked, and his voice was smooth and warm and rich and deep, and Carlos shuddered as it caressed him almost as physically as the extra limbs running down his form.
“So much.” He muttered, almost ashamed of how good he felt.
Cecil grinned, and it wasn’t soft or gentle. It was hungry. That single smile shifted the mood, and it was so seamless, so right, Carlos couldn’t bring himself to even think of fighting it, or to be afraid.
“Do you want me to touch more of you?” He asked.
Carlos nodded eagerly, squeezing Cecil’s fingers with his own to demonstrate his certainty.
“You want my hands on you?” He asked, pointedly.
“Yeah—yes.” Carlos answered, his mouth dry as his imaginative mind went to work.
“You want me to tell you what I’m doing? Do you like when I talk you through it?”
“God, yes. Please, Cecil.” He bucked upwards, straining to get any sort of friction between his legs. His pants were so tight, now, and he was so warm and needy.
“You want me to wrap my tentacles around you, stroke you and squeeze you with them until you cum?”
“I want them in me.” He gasped out, only realizing as he said it how true it was.
Cecil seemed taken aback, broken out of his sexy spell.
“Y-you do?” He blinked.
“Sorry—is, was that weird?” Carlos asked, trying to sit up. Cecil backed up a bit to let him, but didn’t stop touching him.
“Noooo. I just… my other boyfriends, they got a little… I think they were afraid of them? They didn’t want me to touch them with them, let alone…” He trailed off, then added quietly, “I always wanted to, though. I thought…”
Carlos captured his lips in a quick kiss, then kissed the very tip of Cecil’s nose.
“I want them. I want you. All of you.”
Cecil smiled. “You haven’t seen all of me yet.”
“And you haven’t seen all of me.” Carlos threw back. “But I think… I think we’ll be okay. Don’t you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Alright. Let’s… pants off. Ready?” Carlos asked, and Cecil scrambled off the bed to let Carlos up.
He undid his fly and let his tentacles pull them down, along with his briefs, and Carlos could only watch and shake his head a little ruefully as he had to bend to pull his legs free, kicking his shoes haphazardly out into the room somewhere in the process.
He lost balance and would just have fallen against the bed, but Cecil steadied him with a tentacle. Carlos finally got out of his pants and then took intentional hold of the tentacle, closing his hand around it in the same way that he would his penis, and he gave it an experimental pump.
Cecil mewled in surprise, and caught both of Carlos’s wrists up, hauling them above his head while he stepped in and slid his hands over his shoulders, then up the sides of his face to wrap around his head, fingertips digging into the hair that he loved so much.
“That’s cheating.” Cecil told him seriously. “If you aren’t going to play nice, neither will I.” His other tentacles came up, then, and began writhing frantically in Carlos’s armpits, and as he shifted to get away, he realized that Cecil was tickling him.
That stopped very quickly, though, when his shifting brought their cocks together, and Cecil groaned.
“Oh, Carlos.” He leaned in and buried his nose against Carlos’s throat, and Carlos’s arms were allowed to drop. He wrapped his hands around Cecil’s hips and thrust into him again, driving them against one another, friction and drag the most perfect forces in the world, so far as he was concerned, right now.
“Oh god, Cecil.”
“Going to get you all worked up, Carlos, going to stroke you til you’re a second, a breath from coming…”
Cecil wrapped a tentacle around both of them while he spoke, giving them room to thrust, but making sure that there was always something to thrust against.
“Going to get you right to the edge and then…” He let his words trail off, but stroked Carlos’s ass cheek with another tentacle.
“Please.” Carlos choked out. Cecil grinned.
“Wanna swallow you when I do.” Cecil went on, his voice going a bit ragged on the edges, thickening in time with the rhythm they were establishing. “Want you in my mouth when I enter you, so when you cum I get to taste it.”
Carlos was blushing furiously now, but nodding just the same, while he wrapped his hand over both of their dicks and the tentacle, and began bucking harder into the mess of body parts.
“Want that too.” He answered, his voice gone gravelly. “Want to taste you, too. Close, now. So close…” His hips were stuttering, and he knew that meant that Cecil would stop soon, would end it in the interest of prolonging it, and, sure enough, he pulled back, taking all contact away.
“The bed, Carlos. Please.”
“Okay, yeah. Yeah.” Carlos spoke mostly for his own benefit at this point, rallying his own legs into cooperating now that they seemed to have become composed of gelatin.
“Do you want—lube obviously, should I put a condom on?” Cecil seemed unsure, and Carlos felt like it was such a strange question—his past boyfriends hadn’t liked them, had insisted on barebacking.
“On your tentacle? I mean, do you have any STDs?”
“No—no, I’m all clean. I had a brush with lyme disease, but…”
“Then just… just go slowly? I’m... it’s been a bit.” He grimaced at the understatement, and Cecil seemed to understand. He turned away to get the lube, and Carlos got into position, on his hands and knees on the bed, staring resolutely at the headboard.
“Oh Carlos, no… let me see you. Come here.” Cecil took hold of him with his tentacles around his middle and rolled him over, the thin appendages much stronger than they looked.
Cecil crawled up him to kiss his face, showering kisses from bow to chin and everywhere in between.
“Are you absolutely sure? I don’t want to rush you, and you were so nervous earlier…”
“I was scared you wouldn’t want me, and I realized I wanted you more than I’ve ever wanted any one before. I’m not scared any more. Please Cecil, I want this so much…”
“I am going to count that as enthusiastic consent.” Cecil said, chuckling, and then he nosed at Carlos’s jaw.
“I meant what I said, earlier. I want to make love to you with my dick in your mouth and yours in mine. Is that okay?” Cecil’s voice had dropped to radio depths again, and Carlos shivered delightedly.
“So okay. You don’t even know.”
“Good.” Cecil said, and crawled off to turn around. He took Carlos between his lips with no further warning or discussion, and Carlos hastened to return the favor, using his hands to guide it in place and trying to remember the tricks he knew for gag control, starting with folding his thumb into a fist, and ending with the almost-circular breathing that he’d gotten good at.
Cecil slipped down past the back of his mouth and into his throat, and Cecil moaned into his cock, giving him a jolt like he’d never felt before. Cecil pulled off to chuckle at his reaction, then dove in again, this time timing his hum to hit at the same moment that a lubed up tentacle pressed at Carlos’s ass hole.
He tried to suck air in, temporarily forgetting that his airway was full of cock, and causing it to tighten around Cecil, which he seemed to appreciate, if the sudden depth of Carlos’s penis in Cecil’s throat was anything to go by.
They both pulled off with obscene wet noises, and Carlos panted out, “augh Cecil.” And with that, the tentacle slid into him. There was no real taper, the end was in quickly and the shaft of a relatively even thickness. Carlos arched his hips up, and Cecil bobbed his head down, taking the motion and turning it into a strong thrust. He pulled back with mouth and tentacle simultaneously, then sank down again, and Carlos cried out around the head of Cecil’s cock.
“God, Carlos, you are so… so perfect. Can you feel this?” Cecil asked, disengaging just long enough to get the words out.
“Muh.” Carlos agreed, slurping greedily at the dick in his mouth and twisting his head in an effort to show Cecil just how much he appreciated it.
He wrapped his arms around Cecil’s thighs, and dipped a couple of fingers into his watering mouth during his next break to breathe, his body bobbing up and down on the bed in time to the tentacle thrashing inside of him. He returned Cecil’s penis to where it belonged, and started tracing Cecil’s asshole.
Cecil hollowed his cheeks around Carlos in response, letting him out with a loud pop in order to moan.
“Ohhhh Carlos. Perfect, beautiful, wonderful, sexy Carlos, please. Please put them inside of me.”
“Yeah.” Carlos managed, and did as he’d been asked, sinking both fingers in together up to the second knuckle.
“You do this a lot?” He asked Cecil. Cecil panted, his breath striking the sensitive, wet head of Carlos’s dick.
“You think of me and you touch yourself, don’t you? Do you—you think of me inside of you?” Carlos asked, realizing that that was what that meant, wasn’t it? He was surprised. He usually ended up the bottom in the relationship, because the other guy didn’t want anything going in his ass.
“Yeah. Yeah, next time…” Cecil managed. Then Cecil found Carlos’s prostate, and it was the beginning of the end. His hips jutted upwards almost violently and he could only be glad he wasn’t in Cecil’s mouth right then.
“Cecil, Cecil please…”
“Oh, that’s the spot, isn’t it? Okay.” Cecil brushed over it again, and again, concentrating on it now, and it was so good but Carlos needed… needed something else.
“More, Cecil!” He didn’t know how to ask. Cecil swallowed his cock, but that wasn’t… wasn’t quite it, wasn’t enough. Carlos began jerking Cecil with his hand while his hips dipped and twisted, dancing in time to Cecil’s thrusts and Cecil’s tongue, and…
“Oh, Cecil, more, please…”
This time Cecil seemed to understand, and Carlos heard the distinct click click of the lube, over the sounds of flesh meeting and moans that may or may not be coming from him. Then a second tentacle was inside of him, and his head hit the pillow and he keened into Cecil’s cock as his vision began to swim.
Cecil finished around when he did, milking Carlos’s prostate through his orgasm and then gentle dislodging his tentacles from him, trying not to cause any more soreness than he already had. He rolled carefully to the side, then rearranged himself so that his head was facing the same direction as Carlos’s, and his tentacles were folded back into the pocket dimension just under his shoulder blades.
“Carlos?” Cecil asked softly. “Are you… How are you? Was that okay?”
Carlos rolled over to face him, their mouths barely a couple of inches apart, and he forced his eyes to focus on Cecil’s.
“Cecil.” He said very seriously, “I want you to understand that I am absolutely not exaggerating when I say that that was the best sex I have ever had. In my entire life.” He was serious and earnest and Cecil smiled in relief, and pressed their bruised lips together.
“You taste good.” Cecil murmured.
“I taste like you.” Carlos said, agreeing.
“So will you stay here tonight?” Cecil asked, curling his arms around Carlos.
“Only if you promise to hold me.”
“I promise.”
Somewhere, in a police facility masquerading as a sporting goods store, a team of wire monitors let out a collective “Awwwwh.”
And then they set about filling out the paperwork for that particular encounter.
While the voice of Night Vale and his scientist slept, Night Vale continued moving, the way Night Vale always had, and always would.
It was, all said, a good night, for all of Night Vale.