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Author: Amy the Evitable a.k.a.
Rating: Adults only
Warnings: Sex. Explicit sex.
Yaoi sex. This fic was written in response to a request on the
anonymous kink meme posted many moons ago, for tentacle fic. So
tentacle sex ahead. If you are underage or do not want to read
shameless boysex with tentacles, do not click. But everyone else...
have a little faith in me, ok?
Last Updated: 2 February 2008
The Incubi: A
Study in Agony or Ecstasy. Or Both.
All things considered, Watanuki Kimihiro thought he had a perfectly
reasonable excuse for taking a few moments to process the demand that
had been curtly directed at him.
After all, he'd just hit the ground after the thing with all the –
tentacles, they were tentacles, they certainly weren't... weren't –
even if they were purply-red and had little, or not-so-little flared
heads that became slick as they fondled – errr, handled – errr,
restrained him with remarkable thoroughness in places that weren't
usually thought of as restraining points and the restraining had
involved an awful lot of stroking motions...
They were certainly tentacles, not Anything Else, no matter how phallic
they were, because Anything Elses certainly weren't so bendy. Or
prehensile in the slightest. And he was certain that the systematic
destruction of his shirt – a pair of tentacles grabbing hold of his
collar, and slowly, deliberately pulling the sides apart, first one
button then the next ripping off with little popping noises in a forced
striptease – was simply part of an extremely baroque and convoluted
method of ripping him apart and consuming his blood.
Or at least he'd been praying that it was, praying that all it wanted
was to eat him, as usual. That was normal. The anticipation of that
type of death was kind of... well, comforting in its familiarity.
He could handle that. The prospect of being ripped apart and eaten
wasn't new, or overwhelming, or utterly humiliating and somehow even
more exciting for that, so he prayed that the thing with all the
tentacles was just going about killing him in a very unusual manner.
A manner that required removing Watanuki's clothing, and rubbing up
against some of his very sensitive bits.
So, anyway, he'd been praying that it was just going to eat him since
he'd gotten a good look at what had grabbed him. Until two of the pe--
tentacles! They were tentacles! -- snuck down the front of his pants,
and wrapped around an extremely personal place, gently rubbing and
squeezing and stroking, and then he'd lost the ability to find words
with which to pray at all.
He'd also lost a dismaying amount of his desire to run like hell.
Not that he could have, suspended almost a meter above the ground by
all those tentacles that wound around his wrists and ankles and knees.
They'd held him spread-eagled, presumably to give their eager, pulsing
brethren better access to every inch of his body. He'd struggled madly
against them, and against the ones that wrapped around his torso before
reaching for the small of his back and the nape of his neck and those
spots beneath his ears and his nipples, and rubbing against them in an
incredibly distracting and horribly wonderful way.
All of that aside, his struggles had been utterly futile, and if he was
honest, had given way to something more like writhing, and his
protesting cries had taken on a note that was
Those cries would probably have been muffled soon, if the really big
pe-- tentacle! – had been going where he thought it was going.
Then out of nowhere, there had been a blinding light, and he was
falling. He'd gone straight from 'feels so good' to 'damn that hurt'
and the breath had been knocked out of him. Once he managed to get air
in his lungs again, he was flat on his back on the ground. Then
there was an archer above him.
A thin-lipped, furious archer, staring down at him with intense eyes,
impossibly dark eyes with pupils he could fall into, and a
white-knuckled grip on his bow.
And Watanuki was painfully aware of his ripped shirt, which did
absolutely nothing to hide his erect nipples, and the throbbing ache
below, harder than it had ever been and visibly straining against the
fastening of his trousers – which were missing the button. The touches
of the tentacles had pretty much melted away any coherent thought
processes, and his humiliating position and the look on Doumeki's face
– which was even more intensely angry than when Doumeki had first
caught sight of his eye patch – were not helping him to carefully and
rationally process the words Doumeki had uttered.
It certainly didn't help that he'd never, ever, ever anticipated
hearing those two words paired together. Certainly not in any sentence
directed towards him. Especially spoken by this most infuriating of
So Watanuki felt that that the total absence of any hint of outrage and
fury from his response could not be held against him by any reasonable
Besides, he was awfully busy trying to prop himself up on his elbows
and trying to summon enough strength in his legs to at least move his
knees together into a slightly less wanton pose.
The last part of his bewildered query had emerged at significantly
higher pitch than the first. This was due in part to the belated
realization that Doumeki was staring at the unflagging erection
attempting to escape from Watanuki's pants. It was also due in part to
the step Doumeki took towards Watanuki while staring so
inappropriately. Doumeki was now definitely looming, and doing so from
between Watanuki's obscenely splayed legs. All that looming was
almost... intimidating. Yes. Intimidating. That was all. Not arousing
in the slightest. Just intimidating. Almost-intimidating.
All resolutions aside, all this intimidating,
in-Watanuki's-personal-space looming was causing his heart to beat
faster and was causing the yearning ache in Watanuki's unmentionables
to intensify and throb in time with that racing heartbeat. Doumeki was
intense and angry and he might do anything at all to Watanuki,
anything, and Watanuki couldn't stop him and Watanuki was horrified to
discover that he really, really liked that thought.
"Strip. Now." Doumeki's voice was deeper as he restated that impossible
– ridiculous! Unreasonable! Humiliating! -- command as though he had
every right to do so and every right to expect Watanuki to comply.
Even worse, the zipper slipped open a few more notches as a part of
Watanuki twitched at hearing that command in that tone.
Oh, gods. This Was Not Happening. He was not lying on the ground,
aching for the touch of that apathetic bastard's skin against his own.
Watanuki would admit – because he was always fair! -- that Doumeki
might have some qualities that in a certain light could be considered
sexy. Ninety-two percent of the female population of Cross Academy
(including the nurse) couldn't be entirely wrong. Doumeki was tall,
with well-muscled shoulders, and he just exuded an aura of arrogant
self-certainty. He was so damn indifferent to most of what occurred
around him, but there were hints, rare hints, that intense feelings –
volcanic feelings! -- lurked beneath, and Watanuki supposed that plenty
of people had fantasized about breaking the dam containing the emotions
lurking behind those amber eyes, and drowning in the resulting flood.
Not that he himself had ever woken from such a dream and needed
desperately to do laundry before the sun came up. Hadn't ever had
wandering thoughts about what might have happened when Doumeki forced
him up against the wall... if the archer hadn't decided to demand a
chat with his boss, instead of continuing to manhandle him.
Well. Purely abstract consideration of Doumeki's qualities aside, there
was absolutely no way he was going to just up and finish the process of
disrobing that had been begun by that tentacle thing. Nope. Not
happening. Doumeki had fired a chi arrow into the tentacle-creature,
and that was that, and now life would return to normal, and Watanuki
would calmly and rationally explain this, just as soon as he managed to
get a handle on the hormones rushing through his body that wanted to
lay back and invite Doumeki to help him out with the whole stripping
matter and to continue on from there as the archer saw fit.
"What the... Why should I-- ?"
"Take off your clothes or I will do it for you." Doumeki's grip on the
bow tightened even further.
The zipper retreated another few notches, as that rebellious bit of
Watanuki's anatomy surged forward even further in enthusiastic support
of that notion. But he'd be damned if he let his penis do all the
"Why in the name of all that is holy should I do that? It might have
escaped your attention, but I am already significantly under-dressed,
and I have absolutely no desire whatsoever to aggravate the problem
further just to... to... to provide you with some sort of perverse
Those amber eyes – which no longer looked either sleepy or apathetic in
the slightest – finally looked away from his crotch. It wasn't much of
an improvement in the situation, however, as Doumeki's gaze made
a leisurely and thorough tour of the rest of Watanuki's body, making it
humiliatingly clear that no detail of Watanuki's sartorial status had
escaped the archer's attention.
Watanuki hated, absolutely hated, the traditional archery uniform just
now, because the folds of the hakama made it impossible to tell if
Doumeki appreciated the view. The unblinking stare was searingly
intense, but the sharply lowered brows and the crease between them
spoke of anger, not arousal.
Oh, god, he did not just think that.
Watanuki had to wonder if prolonged humiliated flushing might be the
cause of spontaneous human combustion, and rather wished he would
totally self-incinerate right here and right now. His arms were
trembling, and he wasn't sure how much longer he'd be able to remain
propped on his elbows rather than flat on his back. Which was not going
to help with the whole
He certainly was not thinking lewd thoughts as he watched Doumeki's
fingers flex and clench around the bow, and certainly did not note that
the fingers were long and refined-looking despite the callouses, or
that the tendons standing in sharp relief along his wrists from that
angry grip were an excellent reminder of the remarkable strength in
those hands. Nope. Wasn't going there.
"That was an incubus. It had you in thrall --"
"It did not!"
A pointed stare at Watanuki's erection – oh, god, the zipper was
entirely undone now – was Doumeki's only response, and it was
Spontaneous combustion was going to occur at any moment now. Please?
"You were in thrall. At least partially." A hint of a smirk, and then
Doumeki's expression turned intense again, if not quite so angry. "It
might have bound you to itself. If it did, it would leave a mark on
your body. I need to make sure there isn't one. Now strip."
"I won't repeat myself again."
Watanuki found himself shrugging out of the remnants of his shirt.
Doumeki Shizuka's given name was apt – even in his rage, he never
raised his voice. There was something in his pointedly quiet tone that
was almost impossible to argue with.
But while Watanuki was never one to give up on an almost-hopeless
cause, he was not at his best at the moment, and this clearly was not
an argument he was going to win.
As he fumbled with the remnants of his shirt with shaking hands, the
hot, miserable flush spread from his face down the back of his neck.
His vision was blurring with what certainly were not tears of
humiliation. They even more certainly were in no way tears of
disappointment that Doumeki was only staring at him like that and
demanding he strip just to make sure the tentacle monster – the incubus
– hadn't bound him.
Since he was not upset, the question he asked as he attempted to peel
the somewhat damp sleeves from his arms was simple curiosity, and not
an attempt to distract himself from his misery and preserve some degree
of composure. And his voice Did Not Wobble.
"Mark? What kind of mark?"
"An incubus has a symbol. Sort of a personal signature." Doumeki seemed
a bit calmer – at least he no longer sounded like each word was being
forced through gritted teeth. "When... when one of them binds a human
to himself, that symbol will appear somewhere on the human's skin, like
a tattoo. The symbol is on the incubus, too – right beneath the navel,
over the second chakra. You might have seen it on the one that attacked
Oh. "Ah – yes, I saw it. It was a circle with rays coming out of it –
like a sunburst." The shirt was putting up an impressive struggle,
especially for a garment that had been mostly gutted by
tentacles. At least wrestling with it gave him an excuse not to
look at Doumeki's face.
His hormones wondered if Doumeki was still staring at his... No.
Not going there. Enough frustration and humiliation for one night
With a final tear, the shirt yielded. Triumph! No longer pinned by his
own garments, Watanuki sat up, and craned his neck, checking his bare
torso. He didn't see anything... "There. Are you happy? No marks."
"Take your pants off. Briefs, too." Doumeki's voice was sharp.
"Are you insane?!"
"Off. All of it. Don't try and tell me it didn't manage to get beneath
Yes. That tone was angry. Very angry. What right did Doumeki have to
sound so furious? He wasn't the one who'd been assaulted, and stripped,
and then dropped flat on his ass, aroused and humiliated. He
wasn't the one fighting desperately to subdue the hardest erection of
his life, desperately aching for touch, any touch, while some arrogant
bastard loomed over him and issued orders.
"What the hell is your problem? Where do you get off being so pissed?
Why do I have to strip here and now? I'll go home – by myself, damn it!
-- and look in the mirror, and if there's a mark I'll go see Yuuko. You
can take your demands and shove them--"
The bow hit the ground with a clatter, and Doumeki fell to his knees,
wrapping his hands in the waistband of Watanuki's trousers. There was a
flurry of motion, and the seer was flat on his back again as Doumeki
lifted Watanuki's hips. A few quick yanks followed, as Doumeki carried
out his threat of undressing Watanuki.
The trousers and underwear didn't put up even a fraction of the fight
the shirt had. Or maybe Doumeki was just better at stripping people
than he was. Bastard.
"You have no idea." It was a snarl, low and quiet, from the vicinity of
his ankles, but before Watanuki's brain and body could agree upon a
course of action Doumeki was straddling him on all fours. "None. An
incubus can feed from your arousal – steal that all that potent energy
that has every spirit in all of Japan chasing after you -- just by
getting you off. If it got you in thrall, you'd do whatever it
wanted. Anything. It could have bound you to it as a mindless slave for
the rest of your life, you idiot!"
Watanuki watched as his hand, all on its own, moved towards Doumeki. He
didn't know if it would have pushed the archer away or pulled him
closer, as it was intercepted and captured by a more heavily calloused
hand. For a moment he expected (certainly didn't hope, of course not)
that Doumeki would pin his wrist to the ground. But no; instead
Watanuki's hand was lifted, and pressed against Doumeki's chest, over
the archer's heart, as he continued to speak.
The anger in his tone was so incongruous with the careful grip... "And
it found you. That means the spell that kept you hidden is breaking up,
and if one found you, there will be more..."
Then Doumeki's face was even closer, and Watanuki's hand was released
as his head was pulled up for a kiss – and Doumeki kissed like a
starving man whose only sustenance for the next millennium was the
taste of Watanuki's lips, of Watanuki's tongue, of Watanuki's mouth.
The kiss was raw and desperate, bruising in intensity and thoroughly
messy, and the arousal that had so overwhelmed Watanuki in the grip of
the tentacle monster was utterly overshadowed by the need that left his
skin burning now.
As they kissed, Watanuki pressed his palm harder against Doumeki's
chest, felt the pounding heart beneath the heavy linen of the gi, and
felt his understanding of his world break apart and reorder itself into
something much, much warmer.
Then Doumeki broke the kiss, panting, and Watanuki whined in the back
of his throat.
"You have no idea," repeated Doumeki between pants. "Been so damn
careful not to scare you. You are so damn skittish!"
The kiss resumed again. Watanuki felt no need to break it to inform
Doumeki that he was not feeling in the least bit skittish right now.
Not now, not here in the warmer, brighter new world.
When this kiss ended, Watanuki pushed Doumeki's gi off -- baring the
other man's shoulders, tugging those sculpted arms free of the
sleeves. He was only dimly aware that Doumeki was still talking --
"...no idea how much self-control it's taken. I've wanted... been
so careful – and there he was, making you writhe, ready to fuck you.
You're mine." Another scorching kiss, all too short, but the gi was off
now, and there was new territory for Watanuki to explore. "You're mine,
Watanuki Kimihiro. I've kept you safe – killed for you, bled for you...
Cried for you, you bastard... Tried so damn hard to wait until you were
Watanuki had a brilliant idea. He tore his hands away from kneading the
archer's broad back in order to finish stripping the other man. Only
fair, after all – if he was going to demand that Watanuki strip,
Shizuka could damn well get naked, too! After a few moments of useless
fumbling with the hakama ties– and in the process, his hands confirmed
that Doumeki was just as hard as he was, yes! -- Watanuki craned his
head so he could see what he was doing. He made a triumphant noise as
the knot gave way, and the flowing pants almost fell off.
Then he saw something – something aside from the impressively large
bulge in Doumeki's briefs -- something odd enough to penetrate the haze
"Doumeki – what is this – it looks like a birthmark. Or a tattoo. Of an
eye. Right below... your navel...?"
And then Doumeki's skin was rippling, and the tentacles started to
grow, reaching towards him, and as his understanding of the world
shattered yet again, Watanuki realized that perhaps he should have
wondered exactly how it was that Doumeki knew so much about incubi in
the first place.
Rendered speechless by an epic clash of panic and desire, Watanuki
scrabbled backwards, unaware that he was skinning his palms raw on the
rough surface of the park path in his desperate attempt to flee.
Several of the tentacles – dark red in color, flared heads, and god, he
knew they hadn't been there even a moment ago, he'd had his hands over
every inch of skin on Doumeki's torso – lengthened and moved toward him
impossibly quickly. There was a burst of pain as gravel cut into
Watanuki's left hand, as he pushed off, throwing himself to the right.
"Idiot!" A tentacle whipped around Watanuki's left wrist, and
another wrapped around the upper part of the opposite arm.
"You'll hurt yourself."
Watanuki stared in horrified – definitely horrified, not anything else
– fascination at the tentacle, the very, very phallic tentacle, wrapped
around his wrist. It was pulling Watanuki's hand up to Doumeki's – no,
this could not possibly be Doumeki, even though it had looked like
Doumeki, spoken like Doumeki, insulted him like Doumeki, shot chi
arrows like Doumeki, even carried Doumeki's scent (not of course, that
Watanuki was in any way familiar with such an intimate detail) – up for
Watanuki tried to pull his hand back. Damn it, distinctively phallic
tentacles should not be so strong.
"Let me see what you've done to yourself this time."
It really sounded just like Doumeki.
"What..." Watanuki cleared his throat, hoped his voice could manage
something that didn't resemble a squeak quite so much. "Who are you?
What are you?"
The Couldn't-Be-Doumeki abandoned his perusal of Watanuki's wounded
palm, and met Watanuki's gaze. The crease between his brows deepened
further, and he sat back on his knees, no longer looming above
Watanuki. "You know who I am."
"No." Even Watanuki could hear the lack of conviction in the word.
"Doumeki doesn't have... those things. He's human."
Some of the aforementioned things had wrapped around Watanuki's back
and shoulders in a phallic-octopus hug, and were rubbing long soothing
stokes up and down his back. It.. felt nice. Calming, even though
Watanuki couldn't help but notice that all the tentacles were still
very firm, and still seemed very happy to see him. As did the bulge in
Watanuki was working extremely hard not to notice his own unflagging
"Mostly human. My grandfather made... an alliance. Even he needed
someone to watch his back." There was a pointed look, and a pause. "I
take after both he and my grandmother."
The hugging tentacles were starting to focus their efforts on the nape
of Watanuki's neck, which was exceedingly unfair. "You... you didn't
have those before." Watanuki twisted his wrist to stroke one of 'those'
and was rewarded by a sudden, sharp inhalation.
"I didn't need them before. I told you, I've been careful." Doumeki
brushed the back of his fingers against Watanuki's cheek, and the hand
that was so competent at wielding broomsticks and bows, thieving food
with chopsticks and breaking into his apartment, catching him as he
fell – that hand was shaking a little as it touched him.
Shaking. As it touched him.
Watanuki stroked the tentacle that held his wrist again.
"I don't want to be careful now."
"That is not how normal people ask a question, you jerk," said
Watanuki, but there wasn't much actual rancor in it, because that
wasn't how normal people answered, either. Anyone else, and that
ambiguous 'careful' would have worried him, but this was Doumeki,
whatever he was, and Doumeki had given half the sight of his right eye,
much of the blood in his body, ten hours standing in the rain, and too
much else to think of just to keep Watanuki safe and whole, and
there was no way Doumeki would let him be hurt now.
An inchoate noise from deep inside the archer's chest, and the thick
tentacles that had been hugging Watanuki wrapped more firmly around his
torso, and were joined by others that wrapped around Watanuki's thighs,
and they lifted him up, pulling him to straddle Doumeki's folded legs.
There was that searing kiss again, a little less rough this time, and
Doumeki's tongue was thrusting into his mouth. French kissing had
always sounded unappealing to Watanuki, to be honest -- unsanitary and
messy -- but in practice, those aggressive, exploratory forays were
amazing, and he couldn't resist the urge to make his own.
Doumeki tasted of Watanuki's own cooking and of the perfect stillness
of a hot summer day.
Watanuki whined as Doumeki took his mouth away too short a time later,
and was soothed with closed-mouth kisses along his jawline, and warm
licks and nips to his neck, and to that spot beneath Watanuki's ear
that short-circuited his brain. So instead of demanding that Doumeki
come back and kiss him like a man, the only sounds that came out of his
mouth were long, drawn-out vowels.
That short-circuiting – all Doumeki's fault, every bit of it! -- was
why Watanuki failed to notice a few pertinent details. When his
still-captive wrist had been tugged into position for Doumeki to suckle
his fingers, and then lifted so that Doumeki's oral explorations could
continue up along the inside of his wrist and arm, for instance, it
didn't really register that the hand hadn't ever been released.
Watanuki was also somewhat fuzzy about when the other wrist had been
similarly treated, the details lost in the almost-tickling sensation of
Doumeki nuzzling the wispy hairs beneath his arm.
Watanuki had also failed to really register that Doumeki had not
lowered his head to nip at Watanuki's collarbone, but had simply lifted
Watanuki up a bit further, using the tentacles wrapped around
Watanuki's torso and the ones that now bound Watanuki's wrists above
his head. And Watanuki certainly wasn't going to pay attention to
trivialities when Doumeki was flicking his tongue against Watanuki's
nipple, especially when a slender, slick tentacle tip mirrored the
action upon the other nipple. The sly expression revealed when Doumeki
tilted his head to watch Watanuki's face as he leaned in to suck
at the nipple – he sucked hard, a sensation so intense that
Watanuki wasn't sure if it was pain or sharp, sharp pleasure --
should have been a sign that Doumeki had a wicked master plan in mind.
Should have been a warning.
But there was only the slightest frisson of alarm running up Watanuki's
spine, and maybe, just maybe, the nervous realization that Doumeki was
fully in control here and had a definite agenda made Watanuki's blood
burn just a little bit hotter.
In any case, Watanuki was entirely too caught up in the sliding
sensation of tentacles against his skin as they spiraled up to his
groin for any realization of the implications of having tentacles
coiled around each of his legs -- until they'd lifted his thighs,
pressing them almost up to his chest, and spread them wide. It was only
then that Watanuki realized he was again suspended in the air above
Doumeki's folded legs, limbs splayed, every hidden place of his body on
On display for Doumeki Shizuka, his rival and self-appointed bodyguard.
Who was taking in the view with undisguised pleasure, and an entirely
too-satisfied little smile on his lips and in his eyes.
"Is it some kind of --" Watanuki had to gasp as the tip of one of the
tentacles danced along the hollow of his inner thigh, along the crease
where thigh became groin, so close to where he wanted to be touched.
"-- Some kind of incubus rule that you have to dangle people in the air
in lewd poses --" The slick head of a tentacle brushing fleetingly
against the equally slick head of Watanuki's erection dragged a noise
up from deep in Watanuki's throat, but he was going to finish his
complaint, come hell, high water, or embarrassing Doumeki-elicited
noises. "-- Lewd poses for you to stare at?"
"Gives the best view." Doumeki's hands joined the fun, cupping
Watanuki's ass, kneading, holding the cheeks apart, and Watanuki felt
his face flame as he realized how close Doumeki was to -- Then a
tentacle rubbed against his balls, and it wasn't where he most wanted
to be rubbed against, but it was good, so very good, and then Watanuki
struggled to buck his hips, to move closer, so his aching, throbbing
cock could rub against something, anything, even for a moment. The
tentacles were as strong and unyielding as the rest of Doumeki, though,
and Watanuki was stretched out and restrained so that he could barely
even writhe, barely twist, and his desperate cock touched nothing but
Something between a whine and a growl was coming out of his mouth, and
it was making Doumeki look even more triumphantly smug.
Hell, no. Two could play at this game, and Doumeki seemed to have even
more highly sensitive skin to play with than Watanuki did just now,
assuming that all those tentacles were phallic in more than appearance.
His fingers could just barely reach one of the thick shafts wound
around his wrists, and he brushed his fingertips across it, and back
Doumeki's eyes widened a bit.
Watanuki did it again, and again, and the tentacle slithered up to meet
his fingertips, eager for a firmer touch. He traced his fingers around
the rim of the flared head, up and over the tip – there was a slit, and
if the growing slickness was any indication, the tentacles were
absolutely phallic in more than appearance.
Doumeki was breathing harder, but Watanuki wanted to see if he could
get the taciturn bastard to make more noise. Having never tried
anything like this before and never having had it done to him – never
had an opportunity for either, okay, fine – he couldn't be sure, but if
comments overheard in the locker room were anything to go by, this
ought to get a satisfying reaction.
He twisted his neck awkwardly – he'd get a crick if he had to hold this
position long – and licked the head of the tentacle that had been
rubbing the spot beneath his ear.
The sharp, harsh inhalation was music to his ears. He licked again, and
felt Doumeki's hands clench against his ass. And either he'd managed to
gain a miraculous degree of extra flexibility or the tentacle was
moving toward his mouth, because he was able now to take the head
between his lips and suck.
This time he was rewarded with a undeniable, unmistakable groan. He
straightened his neck, and the phallus followed, and while Watanuki
wasn't terribly fond of the salty and slightly bitter taste it had
acquired, the noise Doumeki was making, incomprehensible and guttural
and primal, was better than anything he'd ever heard in his life. He
sucked harder, and flicked his tongue against the suede-like skin.
If Doumeki continued those growling moans, Watanuki thought he might
come just from knowing that he was the one driving Doumeki to make
those sounds. He took the tentacle deeper, and while he wasn't able to
suck as intensely and the whole process was getting both dribbly and
noisy, Doumeki gave no sign of objecting in the least. The hands
kneading his ass were gripping even more firmly, and the stroking of
tentacles across his skin were becoming faster, firmer – less
calculated, less controlled.
Good. It was very, very good, and the only thing that would be better
would be to feel a touch against his own erection.
Then the tentacle slid out of his mouth and down his chin, tilting his
head up. Doumeki's pupils were huge, the amber just a thin ring around
the darkness, and his expression was searingly intense.
"What?" It was the first time Watanuki could remember using an
interrogative as a curse.
"This isn't a game, idiot. Keep it up and I won't hold back."
"You arrogant ass! Do you think I'm stupid?" Doumeki didn't react to
the insult. His expression was dead serious, and his lips were thin and
pale from strain. Watanuki realized Doumeki was just barely keeping
himself under control, and the realization both sent a chill up his
back and made his cock twitch. The thought of what Doumeki would do if
that control broke – would do to him, with all those tentacles and
those hands, that mouth, that cock – was enough to make him a little
nervous. And that fear turned him on more than anything else he'd ever
encountered in his life.
"You – are you going to hurt me?" Watanuki tried to make his tone
challenging, but it was too breathy, too shaky, to have succeeded.
Doumeki's cock twitched beneath his briefs, and the hands on Watanuki's
ass flexed, and then Doumeki was biting his own lower lip. It took him
a moment to still his body, and when he answered, his voice was rough.
"No. Never. But there's a lot I've wanted to do to you. For a long
"We're outside. Anyone could --"
"No. There's a barrier. No one will see us." Doumeki's eyes were
narrowed, and he looked dangerous. Feral. "No one will save you. Not
Watanuki ducked his head, and sucked the tentacle back into his mouth.
The noise that Doumeki made had Watanuki bucking his hips desperately,
and dipping his head to take even more of the length into his mouth. It
was too much, and he had to pull back and cough. Doumeki leaned forward
then to brush kisses over his cheeks, at the corner of their shared
eye, against his neck. Then Doumeki shifted position to yank his briefs
down his thighs.
Dear god, Doumeki's cock was as long and thick as he'd feared – ok,
maybe hoped, and if he was an incurable pervert for the rest of his
life, it was all Doumeki's fault -- it would be. Watanuki stared at the
thick shaft that curved a little to the left, the wet head protruding
from the foreskin, the dark purple color. Then one of Doumeki's
tentacles took hold of his chin, and tilted his head up for another
kiss – and other tentacles pulled Watanuki's body in closer, and oh,
god, Doumeki's cock rubbed up against his cock, and it was so
good. Watanuki bucked his hips, getting as much motion as he
could, just to feel his cock moving against Doumeki's. He wanted more
contact, not just this teasing momentary slide of shaft against shaft,
but he was held too far away to rub himself against the broad, hard
surface of Doumeki's belly, and he would take whatever touch against
his cock he could get.
The phalluses that bound his wrists re-arranged themselves, and the
heads were rubbing against his fingers. He couldn't move his hands to
stroke them properly, but he wrapped his fingers around the tentacles
and let them thrust against his grip. It was enough, apparently, as one
of them pulsed and coated his hand with warm wetness – and was almost
immediately replaced by another.
Watanuki realized his nipples were being caressed again, and tentacles
rubbed against his balls and along the sensitized skin of his thighs.
Doumeki dragged his fingernails down Watanuki's back, sending waves of
goosebumps out from where they touched, and then each hand took a firm
grasp of a cheek, and pulled them apart.
A draft of cool air against his opening made Watanuki realize how
exposed he was now, and he felt a surge of embarrassed heat across his
skin. Doumeki broke the kiss – really, it was more of a mutual
devouring than a proper kiss – and tentacles pulled Watanuki's body
back and up, spread his raised thighs a little further, and tilted him
A tentacle lifted his balls, and Watanuki realized that Doumeki was
staring down at... at his... at his asshole.
The near-incendiary blush returned and his stomach clenched in
trepidation. He'd known this was what guys did to each other, realized
that Doumeki was going to fuck him, and abstractly knew that meant
Doumeki would be pushing himself inside that opening. But that abstract
understanding was a different thing entirely from Doumeki holding him
open and staring so hungrily between Watanuki's legs – and having such
a damn big erection as he did it!
The touch of a smooth tentacle head between his cheeks had him jerking
involuntarily, trying to pull away from the contact. Not that it was
possible, the way that he was pinioned. Damn it, damn it, damn damn
damn. He was not going to act like some high-strung nervous virgin.
Nope. Wasn't going to get all tense and twitchy over this. He stared
off to the side fixedly, as he tried to convince his body of this fact.
He was not going to look at Doumeki. He was not nervous, and there was
absolutely no call for a long, steady look and reassuring words, so
Watanuki was just going to keep looking off to the side.
They tilted his chin up, and he had to look when Doumeki said his name
a second time. His lower lip was absolutely not trembling as Doumeki
continued. "It'll be all right. Just feel."
Doumeki continued staring straight into his eyes as the tentacle began
to rub up and down his crevice, making no move to enter him. Just
stroked over the skin, slowly, steadily, slickness from the head making
the sliding easy. And it felt... good.
It wasn't supposed to feel good, having something rubbing over his
asshole like that, but Watanuki was finding that it was a really,
really sensitive spot. Touching there didn't create the sharp tingling
line of pleasure that went straight from his skin to his groin he got
when Doumeki played with his nipples. It was slow-building warmth,
somehow fuzzy and relaxing, even as the desire to come was building up
again -- after having taken a momentary break due to panic. Watanuki
rocked his hips, and the tentacles let him move this time, let him
guide the slow caresses into more of a thrusting between his cheeks.
Not entering him, not yet, but pressing more firmly against his
opening, rubbing just a little bit at the even more sensitive skin at
Watanuki liked that, liked it a great deal – and Doumeki seemed to like
it as well, speeding up his thrusts, making them a little harder.
Watanuki was watching as the archer's face went slack, eyes rolling
back a moment as he expelled a shuddering breath and the tentacle
spurted wet warmth.
There could not be a more arousing combination of sight and sound in
the universe. And he'd hit himself later for thinking something so
Because now a new tentacle – this one felt more slender than the others
– was flicking back and forth over his now thoroughly-lubricated ass.
The tentacle was pressing in circles along the edge, pressing harder,
playing at the very lip of his entrance, then easing back to
Watanuki wanted that touch, that firm touch, along his rim. Inside his
rim, to see if the inside was just as sensitive as the outside. He
wanted to feel that slender tentacle rubbing in and out, against all of
that unexpectedly sensitive skin. The next time the touch became firm,
he thrust his hips down, and felt it slide effortlessly into his ass.
The slide in felt as good as he'd expected. It was strange, once it was
inside him, to feel something holding him open, and he lifted his hips
up and away. The the slide out was just as humiliatingly sensual. It
really was a thin tentacle; it felt like maybe it was the width of
"Again." Watanuki would have been embarrassed at the breathy quality to
his voice, but Doumeki's eagerness to comply with his order – for once!
-- took the sting away. Again, a slow, shallow thrust, in and out,
stroking against his inside walls. Again, and again.
He really wasn't supposed to like this so much, was he? There were
words for guys who liked this...
And this time the tentacle went in, and stayed in. His ass spasmed
around it, and Doumeki moaned a long exhalation, and trembled, but
stayed still, buried inside him. Watanuki's internal muscles twitched a
few more times, as his entrance tried to adapt to being held open.
"Ok?" Doumeki's voice had never sounded so raw. Watanuki could only nod
in return – his own voice seemed to have traitorously abandoned him.
Doumeki's tentacle thrust deeper, then eased back without leaving
Watanuki's body. Then Doumeki thrust again, going deeper, and suddenly
the languorous sensations of being entered were overwhelmed by a
jolt of pleasure that burst from deep within him to tingle warmth
through Watanuki's whole body. And his voice seemed to have returned,
at full volume.
Then Doumeki did it again, and Watanuki's hips were moving to meet the
thrust, impatient, searching for that fiery explosion of pleasure
again. And Doumeki gave it to him. They moved together, gracelessly at
first, then more smoothly as Watanuki learned at just what angle, at
what moment, to push down to maximize the pleasure. After a few
minutes, the tentacle went rigid and pulsed inside him, delightfully
warm, and Watanuki was going make an observation on the unfairness of
the situation – all the coming had been on Doumeki's side, and the need
to come was building steadily inside Watanuki – when the spent tentacle
slid out and he felt two more begin to probe at his entrance.
"Will they --" He felt an utter moron for even asking, but they seemed
wider than the first, just a little wider, but there were *two* of
them! "—will they fit?"
"Yes. Oh, yes."
They did. The entry stung, and he had to wriggle a little and the
tentacles had to change the angle of entry so they didn't press
uncomfortably against his inner walls – but Doumeki alternated the
thrusts between the tentacles, and those bursts of pleasure were coming
even more frequently, and now Watanuki needed to come, needed to come
so badly. There were tentacles stroking his nipples again, and Watanuki
wasn't sure when that had re-started, but all the sensation was
Damn, was he going to come just from the feel of Doumeki inside him and
having his nipples rubbed?
He was almost certain the answer was yes, when the tentacle that was
still wrapped around his balls pulled them away from his body. It
didn't hurt, but Watanuki snarled all the same. Because even though the
need to come -- the sensation of being on just on the verge, almost,
almost, so close! -- was still just as strong, he couldn't come. Not
with them held like that.
"Bastard..." Watanuki let it trail off into a moan.
"Need to stretch you... more..."
The tiny part of his brain that wasn't completely busy processing all
the sensory input wondered if he *could* stretch more. The two
phalluses inside him were good, but he felt extremely stretched already
– his hole felt like it was wide open accommodating what he already had.
Then a third pushed inside, and Watanuki was convinced he was going to
split right up the middle. This was too much, it wasn't good, and he
opened his mouth to say so – then another tentacle wrapped around
his cock and there were no words. Noises, an abundance of noises, but
no words. Either his entrance stopped hurting, or he was no longer able
to feel anything except the pressure moving up and down his cock, the
thrusts deep inside his body, the constant sliding of tentacles through
his entrance. It was too much, terrifying, overwhelming, wonderful, and
he never wanted it to stop and he'd die if he couldn't come, and the
bastard still had his balls pulled out from his body.
There was the pulsing warmth inside of him, more than once, and the
tentacles slid out. Doumeki positioned Watanuki over his cock –
finally! -- and carefully lowered Watanuki's body. It was beyond
slow, the entry, as Doumeki eased in centimeter by centimeter. Watanuki
twisted and bucked, wanting to feel Doumeki's cock deep inside of him,
wanting to feel that explosion of pleasure again, but the tentacles
that were wound around his body tightened, taking away all Watanuki's
freedom of movement. He strained against them, but Doumeki would not
His face, though, as he impaled Watanuki with torturous deliberation,
was a study in agony or ecstasy – or both. Eyes closed, lips tight, jaw
clenched – Doumeki was torturing himself as much as Watanuki. Watanuki
wanted to touch the archer, wanted to feel the tendons that stood out
in sharp relief along his neck. Wanted to lick at the sweat – and even
the liquid that wasn't sweat – that dotted Doumeki's chest and
forehead. There damn well was going to be a next time, when he'd get to
do all the exploring and teasing he damn well pleased.
Then Doumeki's cock went deep enough to set off the molten explosions
of pleasure, and Watanuki flung his head back, the only motion he had
available to release the overwhelming sensation, and he couldn't watch
the archer's expression any more. But he could hear the panting, feel
the hands and tentacles on his body shaking as that last centimeter
slid in, and he could feel Doumeki's balls pressed against his skin.
Doumeki started to move him, sliding Watanuki's body up and down on
that thick cock. He pulled Watanuki's head in close for kissing, but
there was too much motion, making teeth meet lips with painful force,
and neither of them were willing to remain stationary long enough to
kiss without damage. Watanuki considered taking a tentacle into his
mouth again, but didn't trust himself not to use his teeth in his
It was all about sensation, about the building, inescapable need to
come. Somehow the tentacles that bound him helped center him, in the
typhoon of sensation. He pulled against them, and they were solid and
reassuring, an anchor, and damn it, did this mean he had a thing for
"More... just a little more," whispered Doumeki, and Watanuki didn't
think he could take much more. Then the archer changed his rhythm, to a
sharper, harder lunge up and in, a gentler, rolling withdrawal, and the
tentacle released Watanuki's balls, and it felt like the terrifying
first moment of free-fall on a roller-coaster, or like a firework had
to feel as it exploded, as he finally came.
Watanuki's toes would be cramping for the next few days from the force
with which they were curled; his back would ache from the degree of
arch he achieved. So much better than anything he'd achieved touching
himself. Worth – damn it – worth all the waiting Doumeki had forced
He was just beginning to come down from where he was floating when he
felt Doumeki stiffen. Watanuki was pulled in close to the archer's
body, chest pressed to chest, and Watanuki's legs wrapped around
Doumeki's torso. Arms and tentacles wound around him in the tightest
embrace, cradling the seer, covering him, almost creating a barrier of
Doumeki-flesh around Watanuki, to keep the world out.
And the description of the noise Doumeki made as he came was something
that Watanuki would never, ever share with another soul. It was
Watanuki's alone to treasure.
They were definitely going to do this again.
Doumeki ran the damp washcloth over the last of Watanuki's skin, and
gently patted him dry with a towel. He wasn't sure if Watanuki had
passed out or fallen into an exhausted sleep after their lovemaking,
but as his heartbeat was slow and regular, Doumeki wasn't concerned.
He'd garnered more odd looks carrying Watanuki back to the shrine than
usual. Watanuki's clothes had sustained less damage then in some of the
battles they'd fought against malicious spirits, and most of that was
in the front, hidden from sight as he carried the other piggyback.
Neither of them was bleeding, his tentacles had subsided , and his own
clothing was entirely undamaged. The strange looks had to be due to the
scent of sex that clung to the two of them.
They didn't trouble him particularly. It would take a great deal to
trouble him right now. He'd taken his lover to the shrine, to his room,
laid Watanuki down on his futon, and cleaned the two of them up as best
he could without actually dragging them both into the bath, which
seemed too much trouble to go to at the moment. There was no question
of going to Watanuki's apartment. Watanuki was not going to be out of
his sight in the next few days, and he wanted to keep the seer on the
warded grounds of the temple for as much of that time as he could
manage. Watanuki was too attractive, both physically and spiritually.
That other incubus would be back – his chi arrow hadn't destroyed it,
just scattered its energies. His arrows didn't have the power required
to banish a full-blooded incubus for any length of time.
Well, they hadn't before now.
Doumeki basked in the feeling of satisfaction. The amount of chi
Watanuki generated was amazing, and the idiot had been as generous with
his power as he was with everything else he possessed. Doumeki
half-expected his own skin to be glowing from the spiritual energy
coursing through him after their lovemaking. Watanuki was already
regenerating the energy – it was much of the reason for the deep sleep.
Doumeki would see to it that Watanuki slept safely for as long as
He laid down next to Watanuki, pulled the quilt over them both, and the
other curled against him with an incomprehensible murmur. He
wrapped his arm around Watanuki's waist, and let his palm rest on his
lover's lower back, right above the curve of Watanuki's ass.
Let his palm rest directly on top of the dark marking – rather like a
tattoo – in the shape of an eye – that now decorated that patch of his
Watanuki was going to throw a fit when he saw it. It should prove to be
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(Written for Talk Like a Pirate Day)
....krzzzzhttttt .... begin pirate transmission ........
The tentacles was whirlin' and buzzin' around like a Saint Elmo's
fire on a bad night, and make ye no mistake, Watanuki's heart was
banging in his chest. He struggled some against those what was
restraining him, stumbling a little as his land legs tried to keep him
steady against a sea swell that wasn't. No, t'were the truth that
the only thing a-swelling were inside Watanuki's breeches, or would
have been if he weren't wearing none, but he tried ter keep his mind
off of that, as well as them tentacles. They couldn'ta
corresponded directly ta any o' Doumeki's limbs, because there was no
eyepatch on any of them, nor wooden bits, nor thank Neptune any hooks.
"I find this not be to my likin'," Watanuki said, as more of them
blasted tentacles came round and wrapped themselves round his
extremity-bits, exceptin' the wooden one which fell onto the rocks as
the tentacles lifted Watanuki into the air, in a sort of vertical
spread-albatross. "It's rather constrictin', and the breeze be
cold upon my pirate parts."
In truth, the breeze was pleasant and Watanuki felt his own self to be
warmin' unfortunately as the restrictiveness was more enjoyable than he
had ever of thought it might be, and none of them tentacles looked to
be as painful as a floggin'.
As usual, that old scalawag Doumeki didn't say much, just give a look
into Watanuki's eye that left no doubt what was a-going to happen nor
that Watanuki would enjoy it more than he regretted it, even if only by
a little. The ghost of Doumeki's last parrot perched on his
shoulder, and laughed that horrible screech at Watanuki. "You've
tasted rum," shrieked the ex-parrot. "You've tasted the lash."
It looked like it might of said more, but a tentacle whipped through
the space where the dead parrot was, and it looked annoyed and flew
off. It always were a temperamental beast.
Them tentacles were actual kinda warm against Watanuki's skin, and the
flush was for sure and overpowering. Doumeki smiled, and started
to shanty. As he did so, some of the tentacles which looked like
other things what Watanuki was refusin' to consider, they started to
sway, and he found his eyes drawn to the dancing tentacles even as he
could feel some of the other ones shifting down belowdecks.
It were called "Sugar in the Hold," and although Doumeki sang it wrong,
Watanuki found he couldn't bring it on himself to issue the
correction. And after, Doumeki bein' senior seaman, 'tweren't his
"Hey, ho, below, below," Doumeki chanted, tentacles still whizzin' and
swayin' and Watanuki could feel them slithering around past his nipples
there, almost in time to the beat. "Stowing sugar in the hold
below," that one almost grazed the underside of Watanuki's mains'l, and
he gasped. Doumeki frowned, it sounded too much like a whistle,
bad luck, Watanuki shut his mouth tight as one of them tentacles dipped
Doumeki continued, "Hey," nipple, "ho," nipple, "below," graze,
"below," graze, "Stowing sugar in the hold below." And a firm stroke
from base to rigging. Watanuki twitched and even shuddered some,
mateys, but he didn't make noise this time.
"Watanuki, she's my new boat," and he could a sweared that one of the
blasted warm (so warm) things kissed him on the forehead. He
might have thought somethin' funny of that if he coulda thought
straightly now, but his mind was blowing loose in the breeze, tacking
about like a small craft trying to advance in the face of a mighty gale.
"Stem to stern she's mighty fine," and it mighta been one or it mighta
been many, but Watanuki was stroked from mainsail to mizzen, fo'c'scle
to fantail. Watanuki shuddered some more, and another one of them
involuntary gasps escaped his pursed lips. It weren't a whistle,
but it drew immediate attention.
"Beat any boat on the Hitsuzen line," one of them tentacles just
slipped itself into Watanuki's mouth and it kinda of tasted like
applejack, but with a hint of somethin' more musky in there. Like
the difference betwixt sugar and molasses. This was the darker
stuff, stronger, and as it laid there on Watanuki's startled tongue, it
beat to the tune of Doumeki's heart. Or something deeper.
"Stowing sugar in the hold below," another good stroke from aft to
fore, and Watanuki felt a gentle pressure near his stern seam. He
shivered down to his very timbers.
....krackkkkle .... pirate transmission ends ........
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