Max wanted to deny understanding what that meant, but he couldn't. He knew exactly what Rick was talking about, and he knew that Rick was probably right. His military career was over, but he could sort that, and from the news they had seen from the satellite feed, he needed to calm a lot of panicky people who thought the universe was coming for them. It wasn’t. From what Max had seen, the rest of the universe didn’t give a shit about Earth.
“Let’s worry about all that later. Today, I want to worry about us. Just us.” Max teasingly pulled on Rick’s tentacle, tugging harder each time. “In fact, I am feeling lonely and you have certain husbandly duties you have neglected.”
“I neglect duties?” Rick trumpeted in alarm and tried to draw himself up. “What duties? When have I neglected my husband?”
“I was teasing. You haven’t. I’m suggesting that I miss pulling tentacles with the octopus I love,” Max reassured him.
Rick sagged back onto the bed. “Husband is annoying.”
“I am,” Max agreed. “And I’ve missed annoying you.”
“I’ve missed being annoyed. I was too upset for annoyance, but annoyance is important in a healthy marriage.” Rick’s tentacle tips slipped under Max’s shirt and skittered across his bare skin.
“Very important,” Max whispered, his brains migrating south. The rest of the world would wait; they had a right to take a little time for themselves.
Chapter Twenty
Rick’s tentacles curled around Max. “We could have competitive yoga sex.” The words sank into Max’s skin, making his cock harden.
“Competitive sex is some of my favorite sex,” Max said. “But you can’t cheat by starting on top.” Rick was oddly fond of racing to the orgasm, or the alien version of it when the mating slit would open on his tentacle. If Max came before that happened, Rick won and he would brag for a good week. If Max could make that slit relax and open, he won. Although as far as Max was concerned, everyone won at competitive sex, no matter what happened to the various reproductive tentacles involved.
“I do not require unfair advantage. I can win without.” Rick slid to the side while pressing a small tentacle against the corner of Max’s mouth. The tip slipped into Max’s mouth while more tentacles slipped under his pants. Max was in danger of losing before the competition began because he couldn’t stop his back from arching or a moan from escaping. Rick rumbled, probably already sure he would win.
But Max had the advantage of clothing. His pants would slow Rick down. Meanwhile, he wrapped his arm around a tentacle and pulled, gently at first. Since they’d arrived on this cursed planet, they hadn’t spent much time together. So pressing his body against Rick’s fed a deep hunger in Max’s soul. He had missed this the way he might miss water or food or air. He couldn’t imagine living without his husband.
Rick’s tentacles shivered and he made a chittering cry as Max rocked his hips against the tentacle that was pressed against his perineum.
“Spending time together is pleasurable, but you will reach your maximum pleasure first,” Max vowed. He caught a red-tipped tentacle and tugged. When he didn’t get a reaction, he pulled a little harder. Before he could set a grueling pace of irregular pulls, Rick completed a complex set of maneuvers: he lifted Max’s leg and pushed his pants off in one quick movement. Max threw his hands to the sides, losing his leverage as a startled gasp escaped.
Max’s cock throbbed with need, and Rick took that moment of distraction to slide a sneaky, slicked tentacle up his ass with no warning. Max cried out, his voice ragged with need.
“Fucking hell,” Max cursed.
“Fucking, yes. Hell, no,” Rick countered. His tentacle stroked over Max’s prostate, and Max dug his heels into the mattress, thrusting into the tentacles curled around his cock and balls. His skin was hot and every touch magnified until Max was writhing with need while tentacles teased and traced figures against his sweat-stained skin.
But Max was not built for surrender. He would not yield the win so easily. He gritted his teeth against the lust that made his body tighten and grabbed two tentacles. He jerked them, hard and fast, pulling Rick off balance. Rick tumbled toward him, his hat sliding off onto the mattress and a half dozen tentacles catching him before he landed face-first on Max.
“Unfair,” Rick rumbled, straining to lift himself from the awkward position.
“This is war and love, so all is fair,” Max said. His pulse steadied now that he had space to take a few deep breaths and he set an irregular pace, jerking at a small tentacle in his right hand while his left danced about, gripping, pulling, and releasingwhatever tentacles he could reach. Somewhere along the way, pulling tentacles had become an errotic act. A sinful one. It made his pulse race almost as much as the tentacle in his ass did.
Max clenched around the length in him, and Rick counterattacked, the tentacle around his cock sliding and thrusting until Max lost the ability to breath. A whimper escaped. Max brought his legs up, hooking them around Rick. It left his ass exposed, and a second tentacle wiggled in next to the first. The stretch was shy of painful, stuffing him so full that Max arched his back, desperate for that extra bit of pressure that would push him over into perfect bliss.
But this wasn’t sex; this was competitive sex. He forced himself to push a foot between the tentacles holding him captive and thrash. The jerkiness must have scratched some itch deep in Rick’s soul because his tentacles curled and stiffened and jerked until something went flying off the bedside table, shattering against the wall.
For one second, Max thought he had won. He had made Rick lose all control. But then Rick surged against him, pressing their bodies together and curling the tentacle in his ass. The hard edge of his orgasm crashed into Max, stealing his vision and making him scream. Instead of backing off, Rick pressed harder, the tentacles around Max’s cock and balls undulating and twitching as Max thrust into them.
Raw hunger ruled Max, stealing his ability to think or breathe or do anything other than feel the muscled tentacles surrounding him, the smooth skin, the delicate fingers along the underside of each arm, the warm slick between their bodies. Max clung to two of those strong tentacles, feeling the muscle contract as Rick’s lusty grunts filled the air.
The coordinated dance of tentacles devolved into something more desperate and hungry and wild. Max arched his back and Rick pulled him close, flipping them so Max was on top, a fishcaught on a line and flopping gracelessly. At least that’s what he felt like as waves of his orgasm made him lurch and twist.
Finger tentacles caught at his hair, his toes, his cock, his nipples. Max was becoming one over-sensitive nerve.
He’d lost. He had completely lost and it was glorious.
Max wrapped his legs around Rick’s walking tentacle and held on to the hard, muscled form. He thrust against it once then twice before he came with long spurts of cum.
Rick flipped them around again so Max was on the bed, and tentacles slipped free, leaving Max to shiver at the slide of skin against skin and the feeling of loss as they detangled their limbs. It was so nice having a lover with extra limbs. It made sex so much more interesting. It left him trembling with pleasure, lust coiling through him the way Rick’s tentacles curled and coiled.
