i'll be happy as long as you're together with me. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
primarina) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
yanderebitchclub2018-10-01 09:07 am
primarina) wrote in yanderebitchclub2018-10-01 09:07 am
1 | i don't fuck WITH monsters i just fuck 'em
It’s 📆 COCKtober 🍆🎃 u know 😦what😦 that 😏means😏 👀👅
y'all know what to do, just post a toplevel, be as detailed with your monster descriptions as you like and tag around.
we all boning monsters here anyway so no shaming, ofc. go make some money and worry about yourself.
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physically eichi is thin, and a little bit bony. strangely, though, his skin has some give as though he isn't fully solid, and impressions left on it linger for some long moments before the depressions are evened out; same with scratches. his chest is softer, though, even if it gives in the same way. )
That's terribly cruel of you, though I suppose you don't know it.
( he says this with vague amusement, since its technically not his problem. he's already made peace with his fate, more or less. though, ah...
his wings gradually droop, evidently growing too relaxed to support their weight, and fan out along the rocks. he seems a little bit embarrassed by how much he likes it, which is why he doesn't say anything, but the way he shifts his weight so he's leaning a little more against where he has his hand to wataru, since drifted up to feel the shape of his shoulders and neck, and the way his halos seem to slow their turn, seem to indicate it's having some effect on him. )
... Though, I suppose that's the privilege of the exceptional. I don't get guests at all anymore... So, I simply thought that it'd be a waste to...
( his thoughts are caught somewhere between wataru's tentacle and his wing, which really ought to feel weirder than it does, but.
carefully setting aside the shell, he reaches to run his finger along the tentacle curled around a cheek, curiously feeling the suckers. this should definitely feel odd, but the texture is a little nice, he supposes ... )
... Are you enjoying yourself?
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[ quite a lot, actually, as it evident; though... there's a beat where he purses his lips slightly and leans closer, his nose brushing eichi's and his voice falling to a conspiratory whisper: ] Should I not be?
[ the tentacle pulls away from his cheek to catch his finger, wrapping around it gently; it tightens and loosens, almost like pumping without really doing any moving. the question seems genuine, wataru's hands returning to his hips as if that's safer for them to be. even the tentacle stroking eichi's wing pauses, sliding to rest between them as if to hold him up. ]
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( it's a good thing the tentacle is there at his back because even if it can't push him up, he's leaning back when wataru leans forward, only remembering to stop when he feels the slight brush of something rubbery and moist. for the best, or else he might've tumbled back into the water or sand behind him. )
... It's...
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is, a little bit. he'd never been particularly touchy or discourteous of personal space even while his cohorts had been alive, but he never realized how much it was a privilege until he had to go without it. even the scientists pulling and prodding in indifferent fascination him was, sometimes, more welcome than nothing. it was all gnawing at bones on an empty plate.
thumbing the tentacle curiously, with care - he doesn't know if these tear or hurt - he brings it to his lips, which is the nearest symbol of acceptance as he can picture. )
... I'd like it if you did. As I've said, I don't tend to meet very many others these days, so . . . I'm a little bit shy, is all. But . . .
( letting his hand fall to his chest, he ... chances leaning forward, reaching tentatively to run his fingers through wataru's hair, drawing it over his shoulder. the movement is a lot smoother than his heartbeats, erratic and anxious, would have wataru believe. )
. . . you're fascinating, and unique. I'd like if we could be companions, of sorts.
( ... maybe that was a little too forward...? but he seems the type to prefer that ... mm, but maybe he should somehow circumvent what he's just said and dilute it, because if wataru were to reject him point-blank it'd be a little bit much, but then again he's seemed receptive so far so maybe ... )
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"Of sorts"...? [ he tilts his head, another tentacle happy to trail up his leg, sliding beneath the chemise again. it's a motion completed thoughtlessly, the tentacles having a mind of their own—or at least one linked closer to his most basic instincts, that go well with the strong beating of his heart against his chest, his fascination with the bird— no, angel in front of him. ] We're already playmates! Is there something closer?
[ a genuine question, even as the tentacle beneath his chemise prods what it can wrap around before trailing to his entrance instead, pressing flat against it. probably feels a little weird, given the suckers; for wataru, too, it's a strange sensation, and the color of his skin—lower half, not the human part—flushes a small myriad of rainbow before it settles again.
If there is, [ he whispers, ] then yes! I'd like to be. You're different...♪ It's interesting...♪
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he is content to let wataru and his tentacles caress him, gradually growing used to their strange texture, and the sort of physical company they provide— well, normally he might describe another person's presence as "warmth," but wataru does not seem very warm, being of the sea, which is fine, he thinks; eichi himself has a temperature warmer than most, and so he can be enough for the both of them.
"something closer," mm, he'd just begun to consider if it's something he should explain, wataru's gone ahead and tried to answer it himself, it seems. )
Ah...
( the rainbow delights him, a bright contrast to the warmer tone of wataru's skin, and he wonders if it's because the skin down there is strange in sensation to wataru there.
he's never touched himself, really. he'd been exhausted by how scientists poked and prodded him, and how his physical form seemed to render him too high maintenance for social experiments anymore, that eichi had long since grown tired of his own body, and wanted little to do with it. he's seen how breeding goes, though, once or twice, and he wonders if it interferes with the results of the experiment to use what he knows to move things along, or— perhaps, even, avoid it, but... different and interesting, is it.
he guess he's a little bit curious.
his breathing seems to deepen as his gaze drops, and he ... lets his fingers run light the tentacle dipped beneath his chemise, slowly tracing its way up. )
... That makes me happy. Since... I think you're quite interesting as well. And, besides...
( he swallows as he reaches the tip of the tentacle, and ... tentatively, he encourages it in, spreading himself with his fingers when his fingers meet his skin. )
... You're... a popular topic among the scientists, so... ( mmh, his fingers curl loose into wataru's hair as he keeps his gaze down on the tentacle— a little bit embarrassed to look at wataru, and a little bit curious, too. ) . . . If you want to be closer, like this, we can.
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he doesn't mind either reason, hands sliding back up to his chest—how soft, how nice! sot in a way unlike himself, with more give—and, experimentally, running his thumbs over the tips of them. ]
...What do they say about me? No, no, what do you consider most important? [ that's the more important question, to learn more about the angel so relaxed in his arms, ] Does it match up to what you've seen? I hope I haven't disappointed you! If I have, let me make it up to you, I want to...♪
[ because it rarely gets this far with them still conscious; maybe, this time, with reactions he can gauge, they won't end up at the bottom of the pool, ruining the filtration system. he brushes his lips against eichi's neck, ah, ah... ]
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( he intends to articulate a reply within a reasonable frame of time, but, ah, it feels— strange, in some way he can't articulate, with wataru playing with his chest and his tentacle pressing in. it was just kind of weird at first, maybe a little bumpy along the underside of it, but the deeper wataru pushes the thicker the tentacle is, and . . . )
... T... that you were chatty, and amicable, despite everything, and...
( his fingers tangling in wataru's hair, he leans over wataru's shoulder, allowing him full access to his neck, which feels warmer where wataru's lips brushed it. he ... feels himself getting a little harder between wataru's fingers, and between his legs, where it's faintly noticeable through his chemise, and ... it's probably growing gradually wetter around his tentacle if still a little tight, especially if it twists or turns, and eichi spreads himself with his fingers a little wider, as if to make up for it.
it's weird, for sure, but not in a ... bad way, he thinks, and gradually his wings seem to relax again, his halo slowing its rotation. )
... You never failed their expectations... ( he exhales, his breath uneven. ) My track record, in comparison— much to be desired, so I...
( ... envied him, too. he had wondered what sort of creature could be so perfect by design, and yet, what he sees here is ...
it's not what wataru is, maybe, he'd determined upon meeting him. it's not as if this creature is the pinnacle of scientific achievement, but— intrinsically, there was something about wataru; something besides just his physical form that makes him impressive, which )
... I'm not... ( he ... presses his lips against wataru's shoulder, letting his teeth drag light against his skin. ) ... I'm not disappointed. Please let me see more and more of you, until I've had my fill . . . Wataru ♪
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for now, his last free tentacle lifts eichi's chemise; wataru peers down, curious, and lets one of his hands drop to grasp it gently. ah, how weird, but not in a bad way... unfamiliar, a little... he switches his grip to something lighter, fingers trailing up and down his shaft as his tentacle continues to work his wettening hole leisurely, his other hand gently rolling a breast in his palm. ]
Can I ask the same of you, Eichi? [ he kisses the words onto his throat, eager for the taste and feel of it. the tentacle on his cheek strokes it gently, edging closer to his mouth. ] ...Can I have my fill? You'll say yes, won't you, my friend?
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he's aroused enough already by how wataru teases him, and so the tip is probably leaking, too. his eyes shut when wataru takes him in hand, both hands at once, but so gently unlike how the scientists jerk him, and his breath wavers into quicker shudders, the tentacle in him the greatest source of— feeling, washing over him in waves, his temperature faintly warmer.
he wonders if this is how his cohorts had felt, when some of them had been selected from experiments like these? as far as he was aware nothing very interesting ever came out of it, so they'd stopped using his generation for them, but... )
I'd... ( he swallows, feeling the tentacle curling around his cheek, and his eyes flutter open, half-lidded. ) I couldn't be happier, if you did.
( friends, ah, friends ... he takes his hand from the tentacle below, squeezing his legs instead around it, as if swallowing him deeper in, and brings up a finger to guide the tentacle between his lips again. )
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wataru, eager, too, slides his thumb across the tip when he goes up. ah, ah, what an interesting feeling... he pulls his hand away just a moment, pulls his lips away, to lick his hand and ah, mm, ah. little noises like that, that he buries into his neck again, as he returns his hand back to its position. it's a little harder, his strokes, out of pace with his tentacle, one more conscious than the other. ]
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even if he did mind, though, he might not be in any state to protest when, ah, ah— he'd made a soft whine at the back of his throat, involuntary, when the tentacle begins pulling out, tightening around him as if reluctant— and then it's grasped sounds and quickened breaths muffling against his occupied mouth when wataru begins to torment him in a systematic fashion, out of tune with one another and giving him no time to rest between ministrations.
it's like a wire sparking, or a flashfire forest, or something broad and pink and red spreading through his mind and body, and he arches into the sensation, as if offering wataru the whole of his body, his body moving disjointed with the thrusts— as if trying to help him hit spots that feel particularly good, his breathing faster when wataru seems to get close, his fingers balling into wataru's hair and tugging so terribly hard—
ah, he feels like he's close already, but he doesn't know the answer to "close to what?"— his pale body, flushed pink, chest spilling loose from his chemise from how he arches toward wataru, seems warmer and warmer. he wants to tell him to stop, but— ah, no, he wants him to keep going, it'd been weird at first but now he's starting to feel good, all of it is. )
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no, in it, sinking into the meat, oddly sharp. this, it seems, like his tentacles, is base instinct. it isn't just there; every thrust is accompanied by a new bite, tearing the skin of his shoulder, his collarbone, his chemise. eichi can probably guess what happens to most of wataru's playmates, if they don't get snapped attempting to run. ]
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or, ah,
maybe that wasn't really the cruel part in comparison to this.
eichi's body has a soft texture of meat, easy to tear through and almost custard-like when thoroughly chewed. the pain registers with some delay through the haze of pleasure coursing through him that's left him defenseless and relaxed, but when he does feel it— ah, his voice is pained and shar, his eyes widen in panic, his halo spins the same, and his wings fan out quickly, beating in fearful confusion as if to escape him away from the threat. the beating is, despite their uneven boning, enough to create a deceent gust, but not enough to move them or break them loose— but it's the instinct of his wings as much as it is wataru's tenteacles' to explore, and so he beats futilely.
he should push— push wataru away, too, but he— mmh, ah, ah, ah, it twists in his body and head the feelings of pain and pleasure with every thrust. his vision blurs with tears from this apparent betrayal, but it's not a betrayal strong enough to beat his heated face; the desperate need to keep wataru near—having been so lonely so long—at odds with with the instinctive need to survive. he does push at wataru, at his chest, but he does it weakly with little force or effect, his arms and body trembling, rendered weak from fear and pain, and from how wataru's tentacles refuse to relent. )
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it's been a while since someone fought back like this. faint, but instinctual, and the tentacle behind eichi instead wraps around one of his uneven wings to stop it with whatever force necessary. the skin of his lower half fluctuates between a rainbow of colors, just as before, fanning white as he finally pulls his tentacle from between eichi's thighs.
not for long, the tip of it rubbing tenderly against his clit despite the roughness he's exhibiting elsewhere; he sacrifices balance for another tentacle sliding out from beneath him, curled around something, and while it isn't easy to see it's easy to feel as it gets pushed into eichi, taking advantage of the stretching he'd done before (the other, too, playing with his clit, lets the thicker part of itself keep rubbing as the narrower half slides in after the other tentacle, doubling up apparently something they're a fan of). they don't tip too far over—wataru's tentacles, the ones that are left, cushion them gently into laying on the rock, his hair slipping into the water below—and he doesn't seem to mind, care, anyway, save that he has to switch his biting to eichi's other shoulder, teeth dragging closer to his chest.
it's shortly after this implanting, this teasing, this feeding, that there are a few harder thrusts to make certain everything isn't going anywhere and wataru's tentacles slacken with their grips; the one in eichi's mouth slides out with a soft plop onto his chest, lightly curling wet and warm around his breasts where the chemise has torn. the ones in him similarly follow suit, out of him, trailing down his thighs with little other interest. the one on his wing slips away, resting on his waist, and wataru
is flushed in his human skin too, his octopus half patchy with white and mauve and red; he draws his mouth back up, blood on his lips, to kiss eichi sweetly, like a good bye. ]
It was fun, [ he murmurs hotly, voice strained as if parched—
whether or not eichi's finished, he slips away, back into the water. he needs the hydration, and he's satisfied himself, too; he had fun and he loves this new playmate and he's looking forward to seeing him more...♪ these are the types of readings the scientists will have, so it might be in their best interest to perhaps save this terribly torn up angel, lest wataru go into one of his fits. ]
no subject
his wings beat against the tentacles, but it's not difficult to restrain them. he feels light-headed, feels like he's seeing mostly white, and, despite everything, he responds well - very well - to wataru forcing two tentacles inside him, almost as well as he does to wataru teasing his clit, his body prrsssing against wataru's with a disoriented sort of bliss despite how he'd been trying to push him away before. he's wet and wet and wet; his tears freely dripping freely down his face (ah, it hurts, it hurts), his jaw pushed too wide and saliva spilling from his lips, and the tentacles between his legs drenched sticky and clear with every thrust, clinging sticky to his thighs.
the heat inside him seems to reach a nearly fever pitch, the meat growing easy and pliable to chew, until he makes a sharp sort of gasp not timed with one of wataru's bites, but after the final few thrusts- and his body trembles as he arches upwards, wrapping his arms loose and weak around wataru's neck despite himself. and then his body falls limp, like there's no energy left in it, his wings fanning into the water and his halo slow.
he doesn't respond to the kiss or the farewell, overwhelmed by emotion and sensation, but he does register them clearly. blindly while lying there, he ... reaches for the space beside him, vaguely patting the rock until he finds the shell he was gifted at the start. he brings it to his chest, curled tight as he can manage in his palm, and his panicked breathing slows as he closes his eyes.
several minutes later, when it seems sure that wataru is done with his business and he isn't likely to come back up, the usual robot model (small with rounded edges and moves with a glide) elevates from beneath the sand. it generally comes to collect the remains of wataru's companions, as it does here; just, eichi happens to stil be alive, for the moment. though small, it shifts its mechanisms into something thin enough to scoop eichi up under it, at which point it functions like a stretcher. it quickly hurries into a small entrance that opens by the wall as if from nothing, sealing itself back up quite instantly. creating entry and exit points wataru cant get into is quite the headache.
some hours later, after assessing eichi and determining the brood would take to his body, and that wataru seems to have taken a liking to him, the scientists - through speakers - inform wataru that they have good news: his playmate would be back for him once they finish patching him up, and he may return even sooner if wataru behaves. (there's no truth to this, though; it's only bargaining, to avoid further incidents.)
in the meantime, they attempt to have wataru continhe with his other experiments, whether in that room or otherwise - business as usual, as if eichi has never happened. optimism has them hoping he may briefly forget about his companion for awhile, as it'll take two to three weeks to not only fix him up, but to install regenerative properties to ensure a longer study. just, it's like trying to install hardware to a piece of tissue paper - difficult to do with something so delicate, and so it takes time. if wataru asks where he is, they simply say he's "coming along" and will be back soon. very rarely anything new, and they avoid making promises with certainty that he Will be back, because, as much as they'd like to continue this experiment, they can't control whether or not the minor remodeling of eichi's body will be successful. )
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he collects shells at the bottom of this tank, of other ones; he collects little trinkets from other biomes he's put into too, when it becomes obvious he has little desire to come out of the sea water of his own. there isn't very much they can do with him, given he can dry out, but fresh water is a painful exercise in breathing. he can live, but it hurts,
but no one interests him the same way.
besides, there's children on the way, if it all works out. he asks for a cave in his tank after a few weeks; one with a route into it through the water, so he can go in, but on the surface, so his playmate won't have to drown. he speaks with certainty where the scientists won't, not thinking that eichi wouldn't come back—misshapen and strange, he seemed perfectly wonderful, after all—and, as the days grow longer, as eichi doesn't appear, he begins to break things here and there. drains stuffed with seaweed, the door to his area somehow broken (the card key pad, filled with water and ink), entire swatches of the beach painstakingly pulled into the water with his tentacles when he's left unwatched for too long.
he wants eichi, he explains, whenever he's scolded. when's he coming back? it's already been too long, he has a lot of gifts for him. ]
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while wataru's dedication to his successful mate is clinically fascinating, the consequences of it are, needless to say, inconvenient. this is especially true for the interns, who are the ones generally left to clean up after him.
they're simply trying to ensure he comes back well, they finally have to say, resorting to more human appeals of rhetoric that they aren't fond of using with their subjects (the more you speak to something like it's human, the more likely you are to think of it as one, is all). wataru's cannibalism, though natural to him, isn't something angels are meant to handle ... he has very nearly died, is all, and it isn't easy to fix.
(this is spoken with a little bit of frustration from an intern who had been left to handle another one of wataru's messes).
eventually, though, the cave to wataru's specifications is built, with design and details according to wataru's preference to placate him. later, closer toward the end of eichi's absence, are trees erected - trees with branches usually not found so near the shore, and sturdy enough to support several times wataru's weight. the trees stand as tall off the ground as they are able without hitting the ceiling. with enough dexterity wataru can make his way on them too, but it's a little apparent these aren't meant for him. still, they don't promise anything.
they announce eichi's return about a day in advance, mostly doing last minute tests to prove he was sturdy as he now should be. and, come his actual arrival (announced with some fanfare to the tune of, "but really, now behave"), eichi is placed inside the biome much in the regular way he was placed before.
he looks much like before, if a little better: his halo brighter and with clearer-dined star patterns on its rings, his wings less crooked, and his skin noticeably unbroken and unscarred. he's in a loose, white chemise like before, if slightly more flowing and intricate, and the babydoll cut almost nearly hides the fine curve of his stomach.
he briefly surveys the area, takes note of the changes, and, whether he doesn't see wataru or he does, quite instantly beats his wings to take him up to the highest branch of the tallest tree. )
... Wataru~ ♪
( he calls with a faint lilt to his voice, as if he hadn't just placed a million miles of separation between them. he assumes there's no use hiding from wataru, though; the tank is only so big. besides, eichi doesn't look wary- mostly he looks guarded. he's figured out the Incident from their previous encounter was likely an element of wataru's mating, and so he doubts wataru will do it again unprompted, but ... )
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it's what he's doing when eichi gets deposited in again, the sound of wing beats breaking his concentration—did they leave him another guest? no, he wants—
ah, that voice.
he slides beneath the water and reappears out of the cave, glancing wildly around. eichi, eichi, he heard him, he... he hesitates, not seeing him immediately. not at the place he'd found him before, or on the shore, and he turns his attention to the strange, tall things they'd put in here not too long ago. the white of eichi's being sticks out like a sore thumb, and he smiles wide, trailing to the edge of the shore. onto the sand, but the water still washes over his tentacles in small, short waves—a happy medium, out here. ]
Eichi! [ he's so .... high up there, like a bird out to stay away, and ... wataru's tentacles curl beneath him, his palms flat on the sand. ah ... well, it's understandable, given ... he recognizes that much, the distance is due to his actions, in his own thoughts and in the not-so-kindly-way the interns had put, but he draws his hair over his shoulder and keeps smiling anyway. ] Eichi, Eichi...♪ Come down! How are we supposed to talk like this?
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( ... but he softens a little bit, recognizing fondness in wataru's voice, and ... a desire for eichi's company, even— ah, how the tables have turned. eichi can't really say he hates wataru for what happened, or that he's even particularly averse to him— not to any extent worth cutting off his only company in such a long time, anyway, and extraordinary company at that. just, you know. wataru had done what he'd done innocently, and he'd put eichi through that hell of a recovery unknowingly, and eichi wants to give him a little bit of a hard time for that.
it'd be much nicer to flit down beside him and see if he'll take eichi close, perhaps not in the same way but still close and just that would satisfy him; but, at the same time, he'd like his feelings heard, is all. (the general justification for pettiness everywhere.)
so he slides down from where he stands on a branch into a proper sit, evidently inclined not to come down so soon. he leans over, a hand to keep him steady where he's perched— then leans back again, thrown off-balance by the weight at his abdomen that troubled his balance and flying. that was . . . another thing to express, perhaps more articulately than his upset over being bit up. )
Is the cave new...? I don't recognize it.
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[ ...he waves a hand, settling his cheek against it after. ]
"Turtle"? It's my biggest! Though the "turtle" was small, and it was hard to get out of its shell...♪
[ whether he's talking about a real turtle or one of the attempts at the "kappa" the scientists have is up for debate, but it matters not to him, not really. his expression dims after a moment, just slightly, and he pulls himself out of the shade a little, tentacles curling after him. towards his tree. ]
Eichi, Eichi... How are you? Someone said I almost killed you. [ harsh words, rolling softly from his mouth. ] You look fine! But how are you?
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he doesn't miss the tentacle, and he debates, for a moment, the safety of moving ... probably fine this time, he thinks, before his tentacle is too extended. he isn't inclined to get snapped out of the air like a bird shot by an arrow.
he pushes up from where he'd just sat, his wings beating again - taking him to a branch to a nearby tree. it's not far, and so easy to change directions for, it's just inconvenient. )
Mm. They fixed me up. ( he slips down onto the branch to sit again, as if toning had happened. ) I suppose you didn't mean it, but my body is quite delicate ... one little bite, and the whole thing destabilizes. I would have told you in advance, but you didn't warn me for what you were doing, did you?
( :). there'd been traces of him left on the rock after he was take away - little drops of strange liquid on the rock, erring on gold, that melted with water. )
... It hurt, you know? It was terribly scary. ( and, unfortunately, felt wonderful, but. ) And I couldn't even speak, or tell you how I felt. But I suppose you don't have much interest in how I feel...?
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...not a wrong conclusion, but only because it hasn't really occurred to him, to have an interest in it; he tilts his head, eyebrows pressed together, and he turns to follow eichi. but now that it has, now that it's been pointed out to him ... should he? maybe like the scientists, with pens and paper and clipboards. wataru draws himself up a little more, pushing himself up with his tentacles and sort of slouching his way closer, significantly less mobile on land despite his better efforts and his arms.
being bit hurt, being eaten scary; he catalogs that even angels feel these things, no matter how receptive they might be to him, and feels a little hurt for it himself. ]
Does that mean you don't want to play again?
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well, he decides, he shouldn't spurn him too much. if he begins to feel sour, there's not much coming back from that, and— he is being disengenuous, somewhat, with how he felt. he has been upset and scared, but the rest he's chosen to withhold.
finally his wings flare again, like he's about to flit off again, and he pushes off ... to descend, this time, with such a gentle glide it seems almost like he's floating, weightless. (his chemise does flutter some, but this time he seems to be wearing white underwear this time.) he betrays the impression once he lands though, faltering a little— it's been a long time since he'd had the freedom to fly or land, and his sense of balance is still vague.
he looks to wataru, standing, unsure or whether to move closer or to let wataru close the distance, like he had last time. still, it's ... strange, to stand, and look down at wataru who seems so much smaller on land, and so ... palm against the trunk of the tree, he soundlessly slides down, to kneel down against the sound. )
... How did I taste?
( which doesn't. answer the question, but. to eichi, it—and all of this—sort of does. )
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but.
eichi's different. wataru moves a little closer, tentacles reaching out briefly before they curl in on each other again, further and further until they're back pressed against wataru's middle like a weird skirt.
...how did he taste? ]
You didn't taste like anything. [ wataru hums, playing with the ends of his tentacles. ] But you had a good feel. Soft and warm and nice! Tender...? Melty
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