for the_second_noel: SING AU

[dies_irate]

It's a couple of days after they'd had the rather bizarre conversation in the kitchen when it happens; John's sleep needs are very low, really, only once or twice in a month. Just enough for game events. But he does tend to sleep longer than usual when he does, and that's even aside from the post-berserk pass out that they've heard about but not yet had to deal with, thankfully.

That is why John is still in bed after Arthur's gotten up and headed out. Charlie had had a bad night keeping asleep so he'd decided to enjoy the warmth while it was there and dozed off after he left, the way that's far too simple once it's finally morning somehow. But he might wake up when he hears his own name, spoken with longing not far from him (especially given the speaker) and it's only after he's a little more awake that he'll be able to tell that said speaker is still very much asleep.

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[dies_irate]

And John is going to keep petting his back as he does, encouraging, protective, careful. He'll keep pumping his own cock, careful not to overstimulate Charlie as he goes off, and John will join him a moment later, rumbling out a groan that reverberates throughout all of him.

"I like you saying my name. I like it very much," is barely words, but he says it, low, like the earth moving. He'll work them both through it, getting his tentacles thoroughly covered before letting them settle together. It's only then that he'll reach around, back, towards his ass.

"Are you still thinking about watching Arthur?" he asks in a murmur against Charlie's neck, the tip of a tentacle or two sliding between the cheeks, finding the rim. He's not going to rush, like he said; he wants Charlie to enjoy this.

[the_second_noel]

Charlie is glowing, sighing, and full of the intention to say John's name about a hundred more times. He usually sobers up right quick after an orgasm, whether that means he's sated and anchored, or rattled and tucking whatever thoughts he let out back into their bottle. This time seems to be an exception. The fogginess has lifted somewhat, but 'somewhat' still leaves a very pleasant daze.

He hums into John's collarbone, and pushes his hips back slightly into the touch, moving them in inviting little circles. He wasn't still thinking about Arthur, actually, but that provides a good segue.

He's moving and speaking with intent again as he answers in John's ear.

"Maybe I'm thinkin' about if he ever tongued you. Slid down and cleaned you off with his mouth while you played with his back door. Then got between your thighs and ate your ass with his little tongue till you were bleating. Anyone ever do that for you before, John?"

[dies_irate]

It's an education in Charlie, the kind he doesn't think he could have gotten any other way, to find out what a filthy mind he's got. It's delightful, to have this shared with him, to feel like Charlie feels safe enough; he's glad he was vulnerable with him, glad that he admitted what his dreams were, how he felt.

And he's getting very fond of the feel of Charlie's body warm and affectionate against him.

"He hasn't, no," he says honestly, and that's when the first tip of a tentacle actually slides in, slick, while the other starts gently moving along the rim. Another comes back between them, doing his best not to brush Charlie's dick but not entirely succeeding to grab more of what he needs to add a third 'finger' down there and more of what seems to be very slick liquid to ease the work.

"Bleating?" He chuckles a little fondly. "Is that the sound you think I'd make?"

[the_second_noel]

It's tough to have a dirty mind and two sexy roommates, but every day Charlie is so brave about it.

Now he gets to have the entirely new sensation of questing tentacles all over again from the other end: thicker and more flexible than fingers, more articulated than a dick, curling about in a way that multiplies exponentially when there's more than one. He hums with enjoyment, plus a not unhappy little hitched note when his oversensitive cock is touched. His hand rests on John's chest, and his fingers drift around, just enjoying the feeling of it.

He's so relaxed that the first tentacle slides in without even trying. He could easily lie here, heavy-limbed and happy, and let John ravish him in every which way -- but there's a fair bit of ravishing he'd really like to do to John as well.

The grin on his face, half-hidden by their close proximity, is distinctly cheeky despite the haziness. "I'm in uncharted waters here, ain't I? Damn near anything could happen." He takes a lazy breath. "Mmm, you feel good."

[dies_irate]

That smile does plenty of ravishing. He doesn't know how Charlie can do that, make him feel special and seen even here, even now, but he does and the tentacles inside his ass are going to squirm with delight before he refocuses.

"You feel good too," he reports. And he tucks his face a little against Charlie's temple. "I... wasn't sure if you'd be interested in someone who looked like me." He nuzzles a little. "It felt like it would only be a dream."

And now he's stretching him, a tentacle seeking inside, exploring to see what Charlie reacts to.

[the_second_noel]

"What, someone this beautiful?" He's teasing, but he's not mocking. Maybe he hasn't thought of John as beautiful before now, but he's looking at the expanse of dark skin under his fingers, bisected by a golden line, curves and hollows still shimmering, cock almost shy in its sheath, and you know what? He's coming around to it.

Distracted by John's explorations, his eyes close for a moment, and his asshole squeezes around the tentacle like it's trying to pull it deeper. It's a bit too soon to be excited again, but guess who has two thumbs and can still enjoy this gentle probe. He lets out a deep breath, but keeps his wits together to finish his thought.

"Mmm," and he keeps teasing, fondly, with a face like a satisfied cat, "you callin' the Charlie you were dreamin' about a liar?"

There was a plan... there's still a plan. Any minute now John's going to get the tonguing of a lifetime. But Charlie feels very lazy, and it's very nice where he is just now.

[dies_irate]

Oh, John has no idea how to deal with a compliment like that, especially from Charlie. He buries his face against Charlie's temple for a moment and when Charlie's ass squeezes around him, he groans a little, his cock twitching against Charlie's. There's a soft rumble that shifts against Charlie's neck.

"No. He didn't... I didn't imagine that. I- I don't think I could." But he nuzzles a little before he adds- "The real thing is much better."

[the_second_noel]

"Yeah, I think so too." When it's the real thing, he gets to join in, after all.

As good as the tentacle feels, there's the additional detail of what it's using as lube in there. And, abruptly, Charlie feels another strong wave of euphoria that crests over his head. He can't picture not being in this state. There are no horrible aches or shooting pains in his body; no anxious calculations in his head; no continued injury attached to the memory of things that injured him. He's just happy, hazy, and horny.

He writhes in sleepy slow motion against John. His slow, pleasured sigh and the soft sounds in his throat are not all that distinct from the noises he's been making so far this morning anyway.

John is sweet. He's beautiful. He feels good. His face is nuzzled against Charlie in a way that makes Charlie want to pat and play with John's - hair? - and so he does, dragging his hand up the thousand miles of John's body to rest it in the other mass of tentacles, petting, scritching, stroking, while he mouths a lazy kiss onto the corner of the mask nestled against him.

[dies_irate]

Oh.

Oh, that is

That is so very nice. He feels wanted and warm and fond and maybe a few of those hair strands will coil lightly around Charlie's fingers happily enough and the kisses are wonderful. His claw will gather Charlie gently against him as he nuzzles a few kisses back and the tentacles are going to get him nice and loosened up to where John feels like he can't, or at least won't, hurt him just by pressing inside of him. He murmurs, low and soft.

"Do you still want me inside of you, Charlie? Li-like that?"

Because there's a mostly-hard cock rubbing against his.

[the_second_noel]

Charlie's world is once again reduced to sensation for a little while. There's John, warm and gentle and everywhere. There are soft fond kisses that he would usually second-guess. The tentacles that are opening him up have him sighing and humming and wriggling in a happy daze, and sometimes they coil against a spot that draws out a soft oh and makes his half-soft cock twitch.

He has, with worthwhile effort and fleeting coordination, draped one leg over John's haunches to open himself further. That signals him becoming more present again -- enough to answer a question, anyway.

"More'n anything."

[dies_irate]

It could be terrifying. Even he knows that. He knows that the ease with which he can lift Charlie is sort of terrifying, even if he's lifting him to kiss him a few more times and nuzzle to his neck. But he's certainly not rushing this. He'll settle him on his hips, that cock rubbing against his ass, sliding against the crack as he drapes Charlie over himself for more sweet kisses and nuzzles. The tentacles have less reach here but that's fine; they can just play at the rim, flicking and stretching him meanwhile, unhurried. This isn't a race, after all, and Charlie's so soft and sweet in his arms-

Finally, he breathes, remembering that answer and nods before lifting him again, two tentacles focused on holding his cock in the right spot while the other help his hand to support Charlie as he lowers him down. Gravity does most of the work at that point and John will groan out in a deep rumble all through his chest at the feel of pressing inside of Charlie like that, feeling him stretch around him tight enough to make him still an inch in.

"Still- still good?"