Max gave his husband a crooked grin. “Should I guess what you think my second dominant tentacle is?”
Rick blew raspberries. “When emulating procreation, you have only one tentacle of function, an attractively unsymmetrical tentacle of uniqueness different in size from other tentacles.
“I like to think my procreation tentacle is nice and large,” Max protested.
Rick blew raspberries and waved his smaller tentacles in a way that suggested he was amused. Yep, Rick was amused at the idea that Max’s cock was nice and large. Marriage was hard on a man’s ego.
Changing the subject, Max asked, “Do my legs not count as dominant?” He bent his good leg and ran his toes across Rick’s skin. While he’d been unconscious someone had stripped him of his shoes, and socks, although his pants had only been mutilated. It let him run his bare foot up Rick’s thickly muscled walking tentacle.
“Primary tentacles of locomotion are never dominant,” Rick said, his breath coming faster, “although Max Husband is much more tactile with his walking tentacles than a Hidden one would be.”
“I do like tactile,” Max agreed. “So, it seems like your people are giving you a warmer welcome than I expected.”
Tentacles that had been undulating happily now stilled. “Clarify your expectations.”
“I thought you were concerned about your claim to the ship. In fact, I got the feeling you were worried your people would target you.”
“I disagree with official Hidden one policies.”
“Since Hidden ones seem to be a little racist, I am in favor of disagreeing with their policies. I disagree with a lot of human policies for the same reason. Are you sure there wasn't anything more personal that was worrying you?” Max liked to think he understood his sweet, belchy husband, and he was hiding something.
“My concerns are for the unpleasant policies of Hidden ones which are not significantly better than unpleasant policies of outsiders who would cheat me for my program,” Rick explained. It all sounded so logical, and yet something was wrong. Max considered challenging his husband, but he was already on edge, and if Rick ran off, Max couldn’t chase after him with a broken leg.
“People suck.” Max kept his voice even. “I think we’ve established that’s a universal rule.” It was true of Earth; he knew that from the newscasts they had picked up from their monitoring satellites. The appearance of aliens had spawned new cults and terrorist movements. It wasn't something to be proud of in a person’s birth species.
The tip of Rick's tentacle slid under the waistband of Max’s mangled pants. “I am less interested in the generalunpleasantness of sapient species than I am in this moment of privacy.”
“Do we have privacy? Every time I've been in a hospital, workers have walked in on me without giving any notice. After my parachuting accident, the nurses used to wake me up to take medicine for sleep.” Military hospitals took idiocy to levels unknown in the civilized world. Then again, Dee had a terrifying hospital story or two from her husband’s cancer scare, and he’d gone to a civilian hospital.
Rick twisted on the bed until a new set of eyes considered Max. “That is neither logical nor conducive to recovery of health,” Rick said in a somber tone.
“I agree. But that's the way it works. Are any of the hospital workers or our children going to walk into this room without warning? Because I don't mind telling you, that will make my reproductive tentacle stop working altogether.”
“I would dislike the stopping of function of reproductive tentacle.” Rick had a bit of a bugle in his voice now.
“It wouldn’t stop working forever, but it will go soft long enough for us to regret our life choices. So if there is any chance of being interrupted, we need to stop tangling tentacles before we go too far.” And that point was quickly approaching. Max’s broken leg was nicely numb, and all the rubbing made his brain focus on the parts of him that could still feel.
Rick touched a pink button that was next to the bed. “That ensures privacy. We may tangle tentacles without anyone seeing,” Rick promised. He wiggled so he was pressed against Max’s side, tentacles going under Max’s shirt and tugging on the buttons. “What happens in Vegas is unknown to those denied outside sources of information.”
Max snorted a laugh. “Be careful with the broken leg.” He lifted the tool hat and struggled with the weight. The bad leg and hospital bed meant he was off-balance. Luckily, Rick had alot of tentacles. He snagged his hat from Max and lifted it to the bedside table, all without abandoning his quest to strip Max. A partner capable of multitasking was a good thing.
“I will avoid any activity that could aggravate the damage done by one whose name I refuse to speak,” Rick rumbled.
Max laughed. “It's almost like you're holding a grudge.”
“It keeps going and going and going,” said Rick. “I will always hold a grudge against one who damages Max Husband.”
“I would be equally angry at someone who damaged Rick Husband,” Max said.
Rick blew raspberries. “You legally swindle and physically eviscerate those who damage Rick Husband and children and all polonium-headed poop faces. You earn title Unbalanced one.”
Rick slid a half dozen tentacles over Max’s bare chest and down to his waistband where he worked the buttons. Max didn't think it was an accident that Rick exposed his reproductive tentacle with its short, fat fingers lining the underside.
“Unbalanced, huh?”
“Most unbalanced. Now with one walking tentacle placed not under center of gravity, more unbalanced than usual.” Rick’s voice was full of soft grumbles.
“Only until tonight. You promised my other leg would heal by then.” Max breathed faster as heat gathered in his groin. He had expected the novelty of tentacles would wear off eventually, but that time had not come. In fact, the longer he slept with Rick, the more tentacles were turning into a sexual Pavlov's dog. One brush of a soft, smooth tentacle caressing his skin and all the blood rushed to his cock.
