15. Dean

Dean

Art takes my hand, and then his tentacles wrap around me as well. I try not to shiver at the feeling—now is not the time to get turned on.

"How late will you need to stay to make up the lab time after decorating the tree?" Art asks me. I notice he doesn't include himself in that, probably because he already comes in early and stays late all the time.

"We technically have the afternoon off," I tell him, grinning. "HR always lets people who decorate for the holiday party take the afternoon off. It's one of the perks of helping out, even though we're sometimes here until after work hours anyway. I really think they do it so if anyone sips a bit of apple cider wine or spiked eggnog while we decorate, no one is on the clock."

"So we are technically not on work hours right now?" Art asks suspiciously.

"That's right!" I say, turning to head out of the lab.

Only Art turns and pulls me in the opposite direction, back toward the supply and break room. Maybe he wants to store his lab coat? We weren't in the clean room—our lab has a few separate areas—but I realize it isn't a bad idea to leave my lab coat here too.

We get into the lab break room and Art closes the door. There's a few chairs and a small table, and Art and I have eaten lunch here a few times when we didn't feel like heading to the cafeteria or going out.

I take off my lab coat and hang it on one of the hooks by the lockers. I turn around and… Art's lab coat is off. But so are his shoes. And his pants are unbuttoned.

And that's where he seems to have stopped—mid-undressing. I get the impression that Art has something fun in mind for the break room, and I am one hundred percent on board for any ideas he might have.

Art isn't nearly as shy with me about sex as he used to be, but he still likes to check in before we try anything new—and to make sure I'm in the mood (which I pretty much always am with him). Yes, I'm still vaguely worried about Frank's threat, but mainly because I love working with Art so much. Being intimate with Art is exactly what I need right now to put those worries aside.

I smile and wink at him to let him know I am definitely in before I grab a chair and slide it under the break room door handle. That ought to be warning enough in case anyone comes back here. I'm not worried, though—Art and I are the only ones working in this lab right now.

Art's watching me, and I can see the tent in his underwear where he unzipped his pants. I saunter over and wrap my arms around him.

"Art, were you thinking of doing something fun at work?" I tease, rubbing myself against him.

"It is not, strictly speaking, against company policy…" Art begins, but then he trails off as he looks at my mouth and I grind a little harder against him.

"What fun things did you have in mind that are ‘not against company policy'?" I ask.

"I would like to taste you, Dean Miller. With my mouth," he clarifies, and I can't help the groan that escapes me.

We've had sex a bunch of times, and his tentacles are so damn good that somehow we've never really gotten to the blowjob side of things. The idea is crazy hot, though. Not only would I love Art's mouth on me, but I want to see Art come undone in a place where he's always so formal. I want to taste him—after all, his tentacles have already gotten a taste of me.

I push his pants down, freeing his already hard cock, and I push him backwards into one of the chairs in the room.

He sits down, stating, "I am not sure how I am supposed to put your penis in my mouth if I am sitting in a chair."

I just laugh. "You'll get your turn," I answer. "Your tentacles have tasted me, but I've never gotten to taste you, and I want to."

He groans at my words. I unbutton my own pants, freeing my erection. Art looks hungrily at me, and one of his tentacles reaches out to slide along my length. I moan. Fuck, I love his tentacles.

I drop to my knees in front of him, looking up into his eyes. Art's breath catches as he looks down at me. I marvel at the fact that I'm on my knees in front of the sexy, cute cryptid I used to have a crush on. He means so much to me, and my chest clenches with the intensity of how much I care for him.

"I have never had anyone taste me like this," Art says, and his cock jumps a little when I look back down at it.

He looks delicious, and I lick along his length, getting his cock nice and wet as his breathing speeds up. I lift my eyes and watch his face as I take him into my mouth.

He groans, and I pull off to say, "You taste delicious, Art. Like tasting the ocean waves."

That only seems to turn him on more as I mouth his length again, eventually sucking the head into my mouth. I rub my tongue along the tip and down the sensitive underside, and his tentacles wrap around my body like a hug. I reach a hand up to grip the base of his dick, and I begin moving up and down along him, letting my spit slick the way.

"Dean," he whispers, and I can't help smiling around his cock. I love making him lose my last name.

Giving Art a blowjob is fun, and I love having a hard dick in my mouth. Art's responses are even better. His thighs quiver, his tentacles gently caress my back and neck, and his breathing gets rough. I love making him feel this good, and I want to taste his cum in my mouth.

I let my tongue dip into his slit on my upward glide, and he barely suppresses another moan. One of his tentacles slides down my body, and I feel it grab onto my dick. It suctions on, and… holy shit. It pulsates and sucks where it's attached, and I can't help the moan that comes out.

The vibration must feel good to Art, because he starts moaning, and I can tell by his clenching thighs that he's getting close. I speed up, moaning softly and letting the tip of his cock slide into my throat, where I swallow around him.

He comes with a long exhalation, and I swallow as he pumps into my mouth. He's salty but not bitter, and I'm reminded again of the ocean as I drink him down. I slow my movement and milk the last of his seed, and then I gently pull off, resting my head against his thigh, breathing heavily.

His tentacle is still wrapped around my cock, and I'm hard as a rock, but I'm also satisfied that I got to taste Art. I smile into his skin and press a kiss to his thigh.

"That was amazing, Dean Miller. I did not last long, but you did state that I would get my turn," Art says, and I look up to see him staring at me. His tentacle is still softly wrapped around my hard dick, and it gives a squeeze, making me groan. Art manages to lift me to my feet as he stands up, and he places me in the chair and kneels in front of me. It's so sexy when he moves me around with his arms and tentacles.

He stares intently at my cock as his tentacle uncurls and pulls off of it.

"You look hungry, Art," I laugh. "Should I be worried about cephalopod mating practices?" I ask.

Art chuckles—a sound I love to hear, since he so rarely laughs—and says, "I am hungry, Dean Miller."

His mouth is on my cock in the next breath, and god, it feels good. He's sloppy and wet as he twirls his tongue around my length, and he moans a little as he licks. That's only more of a turn on—I love knowing that he's enjoying himself, and it feels amazing to have his mouth on me.

He pulls off, licking at the precum on the tip of my cock. "You are very tasty, Dean Miller. My mouth enjoys your flavors."

I groan as he sucks me back down. The juxtaposition of his serious words and his sexy actions always get me fired up. But lately I find nearly everything Art does sexy as fuck.

His tentacle slides along my thigh, and I groan, saying, "Yes."

Art takes the hint, and he's probing at my ass with one slick tentacle. I will never get over the self-lubing thing, and as the tip slips into my ass, I moan again. His warm, wet mouth is bobbing along my cock, and his tentacle is sliding deeper into my ass, and I can barely contain the sounds that want to come pouring out of me. Thank god we don't share walls with another break room or lab.

Another tentacle comes up and gently presses a sucker against my nipple, and then it pulls ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Art," I pant.

I like when Art fucks me deep and hard, but that doesn't seem to be his goal right now. His tentacle finds my prostate, and the tip flicks against it, causing my entire body to shiver. I gasp as he continues to rub against my insides, pluck at my nipple, and lick around the head of my cock. As much as I want this to last forever, I feel the pressure building in my body. I was already so fired up from sucking his dick, and the things he's doing to me feel insanely amazing. There's so much sensation everywhere.

I go rigid, barely containing my orgasm, panting for breath and trying to hold on to the pleasure. I look down and see Art staring up at me, and it sends me over the edge. My hips are bucking up into Art's mouth, my legs are spasming, I'm groaning loudly, and I feel like there are sparks shooting throughout my body.

It goes on and on, and eventually Art's tentacle gently slides out of my ass, and his mouth gently releases me. His tentacles wrap around my entire body like a hug, and he gently kisses the tip of my softening cock.

"Dean Miller, I have enjoyed tasting you, and I think we should do this again," he comments.

I can only shakily laugh. "Yes. Definitely on the to do again list. Just wait until we try sixty-nining," I answer.

He looks up at me quizzically, and I pull him up, hugging him. I will absolutely explain what sixty-nining is, but not right now. We have cookies to bake, a tree to decorate, and hopefully all the time in the world to explore the sexy things Art hasn't done yet—and the many sexy things we have done and want to do again.

I can't wait.