1 | i don't fuck WITH monsters i just fuck 'em

[primarina]

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.

Comments

[idolworship]

( no matter how ridiculous the aim, with enough funding, anything is possible.

this is a lab usually kept secret but known best among the upper echelons of the wealthy and influential. its goal is the proof of supernatural and mythical through creation— if it can be bred in a lab, then there is no doubt it exists. it's the backwards sort of logic born of desperation on part of researchers and boredom on part of the rich, who would pay good money to see that which was a little bit more exotic.

for some sponsors it's simply a matter of scientific pursuit; for some, they care for other secrets (immortality being popular) that might be unlocked by the creation of such creatures; for some, they want a mythical alternative to cockfighting, or they want more interesting pets.



eichi was of the lab's divinities branch, which has found particular popularity but bears in equal measure equal amounts of failure. it is not so easy to create heaven, it seems, and its products are often misbegotten if beautiful, their bodies delicate and unable to bear the strain of what the scientists have determined denotes holiness in their dna. each generation is a little better than the last, but eichi finds himself the last of his cohorts, the rest all died out early, and the last one to bear such strain on his health.

the next generation, he hears the scientists say, looks like it might be much more promising when they create it, much more stable. eichi can only listen with quiet envy from behind his small glass confinement. it's just big enough to sit and lay in with his crooked wings folded up, and around him are the empty cells where the other angels used to be a long time ago. it was too dangerous to keep them with other creatures, given their health was so fragile, and so they had this private room on their own - to his own, now.

and they do have to move onto the next generation eventually. once the funding for supporting the expensive cost of eichi's maintenance - his continued living - begins to outweigh the cost of the amount of data they can collect from him, once the experiments and probes he can tolerate begins to grow less and less, they decide it's time. a few more months, and they'll let him die.

but first, one last trial.



he had heard of this wataru, though not in great detail, from the other scientists chatting with each other as they sorted through data in the room. his results were always excellent, they had some endless number of takers for him when they had finished their data collection, he was quick-witted and beautiful, et cetera. he was almost the only other creature they mentioned by number or name, names being offered to the most outstanding experiment of each branch (though, in eichi's case, it's simply that he was the last one alive), and so, with time, eichi began to take this name and shape it into the name of a friend to keep him company in his empty confines.

he had no idea what sort of creature wataru was, or what he looked like or what he was for, but he liked to imagine they got along, and they had long conversations about all sorts of things (the specifics being vague in his imagination), and that they had a lot of similar interests. of course, eichi had overheard his death date, too, but it was less depressing to think that he was spending his last days with a friend who did not prod his body with disappointment as the scientists did, who did not inject him with false divinity and find it a shame when he did bleed.

his surprise is immense, then, when he hears this last experiment was going to be with this very same wataru, for reasons he can't entirely comprehend. it's something to do with breeding habits from what he can gather, probably to do with wataru's, and he supposes that there might be a suspected risk of wataru's mating, since they're offering wataru a partner whom the scientists wouldn't mind losing. ah, well. he doesn't think he would mind; if he's got no choice but to die, then maybe it would be more pleasant if wataru is the one who does it, intentional or no, even if he's a little bit nervous about meeting him, and of wataru falling short of his expectations.

they place him in a room comprised of an artificial environment with features closest to whatever wataru presumably might be most comfortable with, it basically being a sort of shore, where eichi is, that slopes into deep water, where wataru is.the room, too, is kept at a more tropical temperature, and the air is filtered clean so eichi can breathe easy.

eichi himself is dressed in a simple white chemise, thin and open-backed, to let his wings - vast but asymmetrically curving - breathe comfortably. a strange halo of turns out of sync with each ring does hang behind his head, as if he were truly descended from heaven, and he gives off a faint light that reflects over the water. he's been dressed with some kind of scent or marker that, supposedly, wataru and his kind find themselves attracted to - something between pheromones and perfume - but they've otherwise been left in their natural states, not wanting to pollute the results with things like aphrodisiac if not necessary.



eichi can't . . . see wataru, though, wataru being too deep under the water, and, after some period of waiting, he gradually edges toward the shore, delighted as he feels the artificial waves tickle his toes - delighted by the whole environment, actually. not detecting any immediate response - and, admittedly, feeling equal parts anxious about meeting wataru and willful in wanting to explore this room for himself - he chooses to walk instead along the short shore with wonder as he feels wet sand below his feet, stopping to pick up the colorful shells placed there. it isn't long until he reaches and climbs up onto the rocks too, terribly enamored with the mere act of it, curiously digging his nails into the little dents of the brittle zone. ah, how wonderful; he wonders if wataru's always in such a wonderful room, or if this experiment is special?

ah, he's so terribly jealous - he murmurs this in the false angelic tongue he's learned, sounding more like a melody, as he curves his wings above him to shield him from the high lights, and he gazes into the water around the rocks below in search of more shells to carry. )

[faireleclown]

[ "you're getting a playmate today," he'd been told. "do as you please with it."

seeing it's some poor winged creature, one that can't even join him in the false sea they've created, makes him a little sad—but he's intrigued, still, by these wings that aren't quite right, the circles behind his head. beneath the water wataru moves, tracking the creature's progress down the small shore; when this winged thing stops at the rocks, delighted at something so ordinary as climbing onto it, wataru does too. draws only slightly a bit closer to see what he's looking for, and realizes they're shells.

perhaps some assistance is necessary, for something that can't swim. he digs through the sand further beneath the water, inspecting shells as he picks them up; when one satisfies him enough, he curls a tentacle around it and drifts closer, raising it above the water and into the thing's face.

...he follows slightly after, just his head and and shoulders, unnatural blue hair plastered wetly to his pale, pretty skin. he wiggles the shell at his company, uncurling his tentacle from around it to drop it onto the rock in front of him. ]

Playmate?

[ a musical, amused voice, coming suddenly from— his mouth is closed, but his lips are curled up in glee, obvious that it was him. he's a creature of many talents, more extraordinary than the last, (desperate to stay named, to kept well, to not end up like those others he'd seen, heard about, who had failed). ]

[idolworship]

( he startles at the sudden jerk of the tentacle right in his face, wings flapping and halos coming to a stop, but at the very least he doesn't slip from the rock as he pushes himself a little bit further back.

he's only mostly convinced it's not hostile when it drops the shell in front of him, and he realizes - ah - that maybe it was trying to gift him a shell...?

his attention is stolen from the shell to the actual creature attached to the tentacle when he hears the voice - noticing quite immediately the voice certainly did come from him, but it was dressed up as if it had no source. a trick...? or ability? or, ah— this was wataru, wasn't it? it had to be; he was pretty as they said, and his voice was just as nice, the musical quality reminiscent of his angel friends, and so a little nostalgic, and . . .

ah, he realizes he hadn't said anything. um, what had he said? just one thing, right? he didn't miss anything? just "playmate?" - just that much, right?

... mm. either wataru hadn't eavesdropped the way eichi often would, or eichi had misunderstood the purpose of the experiment— though he doubts that. slowly the rings of his halos begin to turn again, contemplatively (the way they turn is a little odd - out of sync with one another, some turning clockwise and some turning the other way, and sometimes before they hit a full rotation they stop, and then reset, only to begin again).

he wonders, if no mating occurs, will the experiment be prolonged? ... he'd like to have more time to stretch his wings. or will they cut him off early and replace him...? mm...

he attempts a smile, finally. )

Ah— . . . Yes, I think so. They call me Eichi. You're Wataru, correct...? ... That's what they said.

( ah ... he takes up the shell, as if remembering it, but his gaze remains on wataru, eichi peering over the water. )

Um, this... Is this for me...? ( he curls his fingers around it anyway, as if he doesn't want to give it back. ) . . . It's lovely. Thank you . . . ♪ I've never had a chance to see these before, so . . .

( what was heaven like? unlike fish and wolves and whatever else, there wasn't really a good sense of what sort of places mythical things - like angels or whatever else - really lived in. heaven was full of clouds? and had a lot of air? they guessed. initially they'd been given a big, bird-cage like structure to flit around in filled with all sorts of soft things before they'd started dying off, and their worsened health required smaller, mostly featureless quarters. )

[faireleclown]

[ wataru watches the rings, as fascinated with them as he is the creature—eichi—in front of him. who could never see shells before? what a sad existence! but he has wings, so maybe he just flew too high, normally, to see them before...? wataru pulls himself up a little on the rocks, pale human skin turning a deep purplish-black, almost eggplant-like, with his octopus skin. ]

That's too bad! Shells are very pretty. [ the second is whispered, and his mouth moves this time, too. he pulls his hair over his shoulder, trailing his fingers through it. playmate... very pretty playmate, he thinks. ] How are we expected to play if I can't remain on land, and you would die underwater, though? How thoughtless! Perhaps I should find a way out through the drain again and give them a talking to... ♪

[ though that will be hard, given they've made the drain too small for his human half to fit through; they're smaller and more numerous now, pipes hidden in kelp and coral. he knows this, but says it anyway, gaze sharply flicking up to the door before he trails his fingers up eichi's legs, stopping short of the chemise's hem. uwooh~? ]

What's under here, I wonder...~?

[idolworship]

( ah...!! he's so much closer now, and the sudden change in color shocks but delights him, and he brightens considerably as he looks wataru over once again, fascinated by the hues of purple and the strange shadows that fall upon his skin, and how he pulls his hair over it . . . it must flow in the water, certainly; he wonders what it looks like, billowing behind him.

he's quite happy to know that had been his voice, too, because it was a nice voice, and he's happy to hear more of it. though— the question . . . he follows wataru's hand curiously, more occupied by something purple touching his skin— no, by wataru touching his skin, which is really more than he'd ever fantasized about. (it'd been hard to decide what appendages to give to his imaginary wataru friend, ultimately.) )

Oh?— Nothing special, I think.

( he'd been nude for the scientists before, so it's like, whatever. he pauses, though, eyes following wataru's lower half, and seeing how it connects smoothly to his stomach. hm. he guesses there is a difference there. he's much more curious about wataru's own body (is the skin rubbery all the way through, like his tentacles look, or does it gradually transition to something smooth like eichi's own skin?), but he's flattered, too, for wataru to see him as even a little bit interesting— so his own curiosity, for the moment, is set aside.

he leans back on a palm (the one not holding the shell, of course), sliding a leg up and spread just a little bit back, to invite the chemise to slip, but not enough to show anything. it's more an invitation, or maybe a tease, if wataru might like to see for himself. )

. . . Mm, well . . . I can usually change it, somewhat. A little bit, within reason. My kind isn't supposed to have a set set of these things. Right now it's what they've asked of me last . . . So, I guess the answer is, "It depends"?

( not a very useful answer, presumably, to someone who doesn't naturally have genitalia between a pair of legs, but it sort of adds an air of mystery to things, which is sort of fun. )

[faireleclown]

[ incredibly unhelpful to someone who doesn't naturally have a set of anything, but wataru oohs softly anyway, fascinated by the idea of changing anything. he can change too—colors, patterns—but shape or something like that, not at all. he doesn't consider the ability to squeeze into tight places anything special, at least, and rather than his hand continuing its way up, wataru pulls himself closer, suckers popping softly off and on the rock as he does so, so that a tentacle can reach the rest of the way up. it slides between eichi's legs, slowing a little as it dips beneath the chemise and gently probs what it finds there. what they asked of him last, mm...? ]

I wish I had met your kind sooner, whatever you are! You are incredibly fascinating...☆ [ he watches eichi's expression intently, a second tentacle reaching up to caress his cheek. ] What are you, anyway? You seem like a bird, but like a human... A strange cross between the two? A hubird? Ah, like hubris! The folly of mankind...~ Fuahaha, I like that!

[idolworship]

( the popping sounds, though surprising, are pleasing in a rhythmical fashion, and he doesn't notice the tentacle at first reaching under— no, he's a little bit flushed already at just how close wataru's gotten, and though he's been good at keeping composed so far in fear of embarrassing himself in front of his likely only companion for the remainder of his life, he's finding that much more challenging with the sudden intimacy.

which doesn't help him keep a soft gasp of surprise when he does feel something touching him where it's admittedly sensitive— he wasn't given any underwear, so wataru's fairly free to explore. there's something that seems like he can wrap around it, and something that seems like an entrance.

despite himself he puts a hand on wataru's - arm? chest? whatever's nearest - as if to steady wataru, like this is a little fast, but he also. isn't sure if he wants to refuse? if this is a sign of wataru's interest in him. )

U— um, is this— playing—? ( a little bit more flustered now, this time from the praise ("praise"). ) I'm...

( gathering himself, um, because wataru really did just say something interesting, but )

... If you'd like to be technical... Isn't everyone here more or less a result of human hubris? ( his halos turn just a little quicker, spinning back as they reset just a little faster. ) But ... perhaps my kind most of all. They wanted to recreate God, and so . . . Whether or not He exists, here I am. They . . . call us angels.

( a beat, as he glances from wataru to his tentacle - mm, he'd mostly been socialized with other more heavenly creatures, so he wasn't . . . sure what this was, exactly. )

And what are you? . . . You seem in some way closer to the demons in the nearby branch.

( which isn't meant to be an insult, just. it's the nearest he's seen, is all. )

[faireleclown]

[ angel, huh... wataru mouths it quietly, getting used to the shape of the word, as the tentacle beneath eichi's chemise moves upwards, popping out the collar of it with a happy wiggle before rests against eichi's other cheek. ]

I am not a "demon," nor an "angel," nor "human," nor "beast"...♪ I am your very own Wataru. ♪ [ he laughs, letting his hands rest in his lap. ...his "lap". ] That's what they call me. Is there a kind to call if I'm the only one I know of? ☆

[ but even as he speaks, his tentacles curling on eichi's face, he thinks it over. if he extends this "kind," this definition, then it would be things that live in the water... right? there had been a few in his tank, but none had exactly lasted, and he supposes he overheard those boring people talking about this and that... ]

Mermaid? [ he tilts his head, like he isn't completely sure of it himself. ] An "octopus"?

[ ...wataru shrugs, smile returning much brighter— ]

To answer the first question though, Eichi! Yes, this is playing...♪ This is how I've played with the others that have visited me, too, but none of them have been as interesting as you. [ a third tentacle raises up— he has eight of these, he intends to use all of them— to touch one of eichi's wings curiously, petting the feathers. ] You have wings, but you refuse to fly away from me...♪ You're not scared! I love it, I love it.

[idolworship]

( ah...! his eyes peel from the first tentacle that was on his cheek to the second before they turn back to wataru, feeling a distinct sense of being invaded, but at the same time a little bit taken with the amount of attention he's being afforded. it's different than the clinical interest offered by the scientists; it's a genuine curiosity, and from a subject so remarkable, that it's flattering.

he is, besides, curious himself, his being touch-starved aside. wataru getting so near to him, while flustering, does mean he can see all of him better— ideal, actually, given his eggplant color makes it hard to see the details of him, the way the darks all blend together. )

Well— I've heard a little bit about you, though I didn't know what you'd be.

( which is to say, he did expect touching given the ultimate goal of the experiment, and had braced for it, and is only grateful it's so far been a not-miserable experience, fascinatingly strange as feeling the sleek rubbery skin and little suckers along him has been. (he doesn't plan to discuss how often he'd heard about him, or his imaginings, and why both of those deepen the hue at the edge of his cheeks just a little bit when wataru chimes he loves this, twice.)

his wings arch and spread slightly in response to the petting, a little bit stiff but, from the look on his face, he seems to like that quite a bit, sort of like when you lightly pet a cat. )

... Is it that your play turns rough? Is that why others tend to run from you?

( a genuine question, more to know what to expect. tentatively, encouraged by how shamelessly wataru seems to touch him, he lets the tips of his fingers press against wataru's skin, running it light along his chest, just to see what the texture is like. )

Are you usually kept alone?

[faireleclown]

[ his skin is soft and damp, smoothing down into the firmer, rubbery octopus skin around his waist; wataru tilts his head down to watch eichi's hand on his chest, not ... particularly used to being touched, at least this softly. ]

I am, and... I wouldn't say rough! [ of course he wouldn't, having a different idea of it. he continues to pet eichi's wing with one of his tentacles, encouraged by the look on his face, on the way they spread out. ] They aren't as fond of my appendages! As soon as I come out from the water, they flit away, and I have to catch them...~

[ and sometimes that results in things being broken, and— it's poor to waste things. wataru looks back up, finally out to use his hands again to better feel eichi's skin, the way eichi does his. beneath the chemise but up to his chest, drawing slow lines across his stomach where his tentacle isn't. ]

Even those that live in the water with me seem to have some basic instinct to stay away from me... Isn't that sad? Ah, but the look on their faces when they realize they can't leave! It's exciting, the different colors and expressions people will make. ♪

[idolworship]

( ah ... eichi vividly sees an image of tentacles shooting out from the water and constructing around him to snap him back underneath, and he's suddenly quite grateful for his careless complacence in letting wataru touch him as he pleases.

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?

[faireleclown]

I am!

[ 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. ]

[idolworship]

Um—

( 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...

[idolworship]

( composure, composure. regaining himself, though still a little flustered by the proximity, he tries to find quickly some excuse that might allow him to enjoy some proximity without seeming, like, desperate, even if he

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 ... )

[faireleclown]

[ the purple color shifts to a warmer, eichi's lips close and soft, when the tentacle reaches out to trace them. wataru's hands, too, trace, the curve of eichi's hip when he leans forward. ]

"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...♪

[idolworship]

( he's relieved, and genuinely so, that wataru seems receptive that they be close at all— or that, well, wataru evidently considers "playmates" close enough.

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.

[faireleclown]

[ he isn't sure why he's so popular; he knows he is, and he knows he's an endless source of frustration for them too, given his tendency to get into places he's not supposed to. but this place, eichi seems receptive to, and the tentacle slips in carefully to explore. wataru hums softly, delighted by the shifts in eichi, the way he'd run his fingers on his appendage, the feel of them on either side of it as it presses further in. how warm, how nice... mmm, warmer than warm—just like the whole of his company, but is that because that's how he is, or because wataru is simply naturally cooler?

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... ]

[idolworship]

Ah— Mm... Y... You're...

( 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 ♪

[faireleclown]

[ what wonderful sensations, wonderful noises, wonderful teeth; the tentacle in eichi shivers a little, and wataru rests back on three of his. it's a little difficult outside of the water, and really, he should probably head back that way in short order, but for now, for now...

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?

[idolworship]

( for someone whose days typically consist of zero stimulation, this is already— approaching overwhelming.

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. )

[faireleclown]

[ it enters easily, set on exploring the new area gently, even though wataru likes eichi's voice, likes talking to him— but he focuses his mouth in sucking on his skin, pressing him down. just, gently, the tentacle at his back something for him to rest on in lieu of the hard rock or falling straight into the water. the one between his legs slips out almost entirely, then back in—rhythmic with the false waves beside them, not too fast and not too slow. it goes deeper though, eager, and

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. ]

[idolworship]

( eichi goes down easy, resting his weight near fully on the tentacle at his back, not really of the mind to support himself. the tentacle in his mouth feels weird in the same way the other tentacle does, and he finds this mouth less comparatively sensitive— but he sort of likes it, the strange salty taste of the sea along his tongue, so foreign and new, and the strange bumps and coiling of the tentacle as he runs his tongue along it, sucks it, doesn't even seem to mind if it tries to go deeper, though it may startle him.

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. )

[faireleclown]

[ angels are beautiful, he thinks, a single clear thought in a mind muddled by how good this feels, how warm eichi is, the slickness of his hand and how wet his tentacle's getting. he wants to keep playing with his chest, this odd softness, but he wants eichi closer, more, more, more... the tentacle behind him presses him flush against wataru, the tentacles in him suddenly wiggling deeper, wataru's strokes much harder, much quicker, teeth on the juncture of his neck.

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. ]

[idolworship]

( it feels strangely satisfying and good to be—what had wataru called it?—filled like this, feeling better the deeper wataru goes—pushes, after a certain point, because either end of him only goes so deep until wataru reaches a point where things aren't meant to go further. but, like eichi's body, his insides have a little give, and wataru can push past that point to a point of discomfort, where he feels a natural sense that wataru's going too deep in—and yet he remains wet and erect, faint sounds muffled deep in his throat, the stimulation ceaseless despite how wataru stretches him cruelly.

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. )

[faireleclown]

[ how delicious ♪

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. ]