Chapter Six

Hawthorne

The awareness of Aamon's hulking body looming over me sends a shiver through my core. My mind is swirling, full of sensations and emotions that are utterly indistinguishable. I have yet to feel a single ounce of revulsion for my captor; instead, there is a lurking yearning. With every breath, the awareness of tension builds.

"Good boy," Aamon says, though his hands leave my wrists disappointingly.

With a fluidity I'm not accustomed to, he hoists himself onto the table to straddle me, though his body never once presses against mine. He is but a hair's breadth at all times, and yet I know there is an unspoken command that I am not to move.

"Look at you splayed before me." His golden eyes flicker down at me with consideration while his left hand trails the fullest part of my bottom lip. "I'm going to make you my little fuck toy."

With a feather-light flick of my tongue, I lick the clawed fingertip, moaning at his dangerous promise. It ignites something dark within him as he grasps the side of my cheeks, forcing my mouth to hinge open. A dark miasma fills the space between us as four translucent tentacles sprout from behind his glorious seraph wings, swirling in a tantalizing rhythm. Each tentacle performs a mesmerizing choreography of its own, drawing my eyes to them in amazement.

Aamon's mouth twists into a devious snarl as, all at once, in a quick strike, those same tentacles grasp at various parts of my body. One holds my wrists, clasping me to the desk, as two more glide beneath my tunic and into the hem of my trousers. Their texture is undefinable. They are almost imperceptible as their gentle touches leave a tingling electric feeling against my bare skin.

One glides around the head of my cock, stroking it with apt precision, as if Aamon knows just how to touch me. My eyes flutter closed as a moan gurgles in the back of my throat and spit gathers behind my tongue.

That sound is immediately smothered by something thick and hard shoving inside my mouth, forcing itself down my throat. It elicits a gag as I choke around it. My eyes flare open, shocked to see one of the long, slender tentacles inside my mouth, undulating back and forth, all while his hands are stroking his thick, bright pink cock.

Sensation after sensation courses through my body as each place a tentacle touches blazes to life. There is no focus to any of it. The tentacle in my mouth plunges violently in and out, giving me minor relief as I gag, and saliva drips down my chin. The two beneath my clothing feel as though they have suckers on their tips, licking and pulling at my cock and nipples. I'm very aware of how I writhe and wriggle beneath him, feeling the tingling greedy hunger of release twinge in my belly.

"Ah-ah." Aamon ceases every movement all at once. "You can't come yet, handsome boy."

It's then that I know I am his little plaything, made to worship him and be broken by him. That thought lingers in my head as he bends his body down toward my mouth. The tentacle slithers out of it with an unsavory pop, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

I allow my mouth to close for the briefest moment, feeling an ache in my jaw from its fullness. There is so much I wish to say aloud—begging for more is on the tip of my tongue. It dies with a moan, as, at last, I get what was promised from the marquis. His hand grabs the sides of my jaw once more, forcing it open, guiding his cock into my mouth. Once it's nestled inside, his powerful hands leave my jaw to grasp at the sides of my scalp, holding my head upright.

The first movement Aamon makes is tantalizingly slow. He allows my mouth and tongue to just take enough of him to feel full. The ease of it gives me time to adjust to the difference in girth and length compared to the tentacle appendage earlier, of which I am blissfully thankful. Tilting my head, I glance up, hoping to glimpse his face. I wonder what emotion flickers behind his eyes, but I can't see anything but the broadness of his chest.

"You feel so fucking good, little mortal," he says as he slowly pumps into my mouth. "Your mouth is so hot and so tight around my cock."

A low moan bubbles from my throat, and my eyes roll back in my head with pleasure just from the way he speaks to me. His tentacles continue to writhe along my body, licking me tantalizingly slowly. No part of me is without his sensual stroking. I suspect those tentacles must have mouths and tongues of their own.

My cock throbs behind the confinement of my clothing, and I wet the front of my trousers with precum. The ache in my body is growing again as he uses my mouth for his pleasure until the tentacles leave their positions to tug my trousers down my thighs just enough for my cock to spring blissfully free.

"Thorne, do you want to come with me?" Aamon huffs as his own release must be close.

There is no way for me to answer him with his cock in my mouth. Instead, I hum a plea from the bulk of him. Aamon takes that as proof enough. He grasps my cock with one tentacle while the other glides swiftly at the entrance of my ass. My eyes immediately flare with concern, but it is wiped away as I feel a strange slickness at the tip of the appendage in preparation for what it intends to do.

Deftly, the tentacles work up and down my shaft, while the other patiently presses at the entrance, until I can feel part of it inside me. As I am consumed entirely by every sensation, Aamon becomes my only thought. I desire more, so much more than I could ever proclaim aloud. My body writhes and bucks in tandem with his strokes until I can hardly breathe.

"That's it, handsome, take it slowly." He slows his use of my mouth as though he requires pause before he hastily comes.

Once he seats himself fully inside me, Aamon glides his tentacle out of my ass just enough that a shiver tingles down my spine at the sensation. There is no desire for this to end abruptly on either of our parts. Even if the words are unspoken, it's a feeling that settles over us as though we both enjoy the delicious way we have made this moment linger.

His hands around my head grip me roughly, and in time, his strokes quicken considerably. Everywhere he teases begins to feel hot to the touch. My eyes water as he fucks harder. The sensations build to a precipice I know will soon leave me falling over it.

The whining noises that escape us both reverberate around the room, and the desk begins to squeak beneath us. My every limb and muscle aches for release, but permission to come hasn't been uttered from Aamon's lips yet. I desire him to give me the permission and satisfaction; I ache for it. As my cock twitches and my body grows taut, his does as well. I know our release is at its tipping point.

Aamon grabs my head so roughly that his cock buries itself in the back of my throat, and, as I choke, he groans out the words I have prayed for: "Come for me!"

All at once, his body, mine and each tentacle pulse in complete tandem. Cum shoots down the back of my throat just as the sensation of my own orgasm racks through my spine, coating my stomach. I choke as I try to swallow, but I am too full of him. His seed leaks around him, out of my mouth and down my chin in sticky globs.

I expect a quick exit once his release has come, though I am decidedly surprised that he gently leaves my mouth first, setting my head down with care. His body is still hovering over mine, but finally I can peer into his golden eyes, relishing the pure, sated joy on his face. Then his tentacles slowly leave my body, whispering against my skin until they retreat back into the ether from which they came.

"Good boy," Aamon whispers. There is compassion in his tone and in the careful way his hands slowly lift me from the hard tabletop into his muscular arms. "Let me draw you a bath, and then you must rest."

If this is what exchanging mana means, then surely I would wish to do so as often as possible.