"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I panted, my hands braced against the wall. The tentacle around my cock squeezed tighter, stroking faster, and I knew I wasn't going to last. The combination was too much. The fullness in my ass and the pressure on my cockhead was driving me over the edge.
Then the tentacle inside me found my prostate and pressed hard, rubbing against it with those ridges in a way that made my entire body lock up. The tentacle on my cock stroked once, twice more, and I came with a strangled cry. My vision whited out as pleasure tore through me, my cum painting the wall in front of me in thick ropes.
The tentacles didn't stop. They kept moving, kept stroking and thrusting, milking every last drop from me until I was shaking and oversensitive. Only then did they begin to slow, the movements becoming gentler, almost soothing.
Gradually, they unwound from my body. The one inside me slipped out carefully, and I felt suddenly empty. The others released my cock, my balls, my thighs, leaving trails of that slick fluid across my skin. Then they retreated back through the hole, disappearing as mysteriously as they'd appeared.
I collapsed onto the bench, my entire body trembling. My mind was blank, completely fucked out in the best possible way. I had no idea what species had just done that to me, and honestly? I didn't care. It had been incredible.
I don't know how long I sat there, trying to remember how to breathe like a normal person. Eventually, I managed to stand on shaky legs and grab my towel from where I'd dropped it. I needed a shower. Badly.
The corridor was empty when I emerged, and I made my way back downstairs to find the showers. The locker room had a big open plan shower, but I bypassed it for a private stall. I needed to clean up and clear my head.
The hot water felt amazing, washing away the sweat, cum, and that strange slick fluid from the tentacles. I stood under the spray for a long time, letting it beat down on my shoulders while I processed everything that had just happened.
Once again, I hadn’t quite gotten a chance to decompress before the shower curtain behind me pushed aside. I turned,expecting to see an apologetic man standing there, having accidently intruded on me. But instead I saw something that made my heart skip a beat and my cock twitch with renewed interest.
Michael.
He was still in his demonic form, all dark skin and glowing red eyes, those spiraling horns catching the bathroom light. Steam swirled around him, making him look even more otherworldly. His gaze raked over my naked, wet body with obvious appreciation.
"Having fun?" he asked, his layered voice sending a shiver down my spine despite the hot water.
"You could say that," I managed, very aware that my cock was already half-hard again just from looking at him. "Been watching me?"
"I can sense what happens in my establishment." He stepped closer, not bothering to close the curtain behind him. Water began to spray across his chest, darkening his skin. "You've been very popular tonight."
"Yeah, well..." I didn't know what to say to that. What was the protocol after getting fucked by tentacles in a glory hole booth?
Michael reached out, running one clawed finger down my chest, careful not to scratch. "So where are you going next?”
"I was kind of in the middle of cleaning up," I said, but I didn't step back. Couldn't step back. He was magnetic, pulling me in without even trying.
"Mmm." His hand traveled lower, tracing the line of my hip. "And now?"
"Now I'm standing in a shower with a demon," I said, my voice coming out rougher than intended. "Still trying to figure out if this is the best or worst decision I've ever made."
"Why not both?" He pressed closer, his body heat rivaling the shower's. "You don't strike me as someone who plays it safe, Brad."
He wasn't wrong. Safe would have been walking out of this place the moment I fixed the sauna. Safe would have been a lot of things I hadn't done tonight.
"What do you want from me?" I asked, tilting my head back to meet those burning red eyes.
"Right now?" His hand wrapped around my cock, which was now fully hard again. Fucking hell, where was my refractory period? "I want to hear you moan my name while I fuck you."
My breath caught. "That's pretty direct."
"I'm a demon, not a poet." He stroked me slowly, his grip perfect. "Besides, I can smell how much you want this. Want me. Your body's been craving it since the moment you saw my real form."
I wanted to argue, to say he was wrong, but we both knew it would be a lie. Whatever pheromones or magic he was putting off, my body was responding exactly the way he said. I was aching for it, for him, in a way I'd never felt before.
"The shower's kind of small," I said weakly.
Michael's laugh was dark and rich. "Then we'll use the open showers." He released my cock and grabbed my wrist, tugging me out of the stall.
"Wait, I'm not—" But he was already pulling me toward the large shower area where several other men were already chatting or washing up. Some glanced our way, their eyes widening when they saw Michael in his demonic form, but no one said anything. They just watched with profound interest.
Michael positioned me in the center of the space, right under one of the larger shower heads. The water cascaded over both of us, and I was acutely aware of how exposed we were. Anyone could watch. Hell, most of them already were.
