At first there’s a lot of shouting and freaking out, because seriously, who expected the boss to suddenly sprout tentacles? But that’s what happens, one morning Hannibal doesn’t want to leave the bathroom of the latest very nice hotel suite Face conned them, and when BA finally breaks the door down, ignoring all the I’m fines and don’t come ins and that’s an orders, they stop and stare for almost a minute. Then Murdock cackles and starts asking about weird lights and alien abductions, BA rubs his face and mutters something about fools and why he ever joined up with this madness, and Face... well. Breaks down and laughs his ass off. The boss looks annoyed; one of the tentacles smacks Face on the head, and that is that.
So, the boss has tentacles now. Not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to them, not after the thing with the guy in the place, and they’ve do have certain advantages.
For one, they apparently are retractable. Face hasn’t exactly watched it, but Hannibal can kinda hide them, which is useful, seeing as a man with 10 extra limbs might attract some unwanted attention, especially since they are on the run and all that. It’s still a bit creepy, though, seeing them suddenly pop up from a sleeve or under the boss’ shirt and reach for the sugar for his morning coffee. But useful, yeah, Face can admit that.
Limber, too, Face thinks as he watches Hannibal prepare all their breakfasts, setting the table and emptying the dishwasher and playing some version of Mikado with Murdock all at the same time. Isn’t bad either that the boss can now handle 12 guns at once, if he wants to, and didn’t that scare off those mobsters in Chicago pretty quick before they could lay a hand on their client?
And they are freakishly strong. There’s this one time where a tire blows on their most recent car, BA cursing a blue streak because he can’t find the car jack and everybody kinda worried because the police aren’t far behind them, and Hannibal... just whips his tentacles out and lifts the car. That was pretty awesome, even if the boss got annoyed afterwards because he had to clean all the oil stains from his extra limbs.
So, the tentacles do have their benefits. Still... ever since Hannibal got them, Face has kinda stayed out of the boss’ way. It’s not that he finds them disgusting or anything, okay, they are kinda weird, but. Well. It’s not every day that your lover suddenly develops tentacles, okay? Tentacles! Tentacles, and what is he supposed to do with them anyway? Just ignore them? May be kinda hard, because they seem to develop some amount of independence when Hannibal gets, well, emotional. Face has lost count of how many times he’s made up some kind of excuse to escape a twelve-armed embrace by a horny Hannibal or slapped away one or more slender limbs from his ass. It’s... it’s weird, okay? Weird.
So Hannibal and Face haven’t really done the sex thing in the last few weeks, not since it happened. And now Hannibal has this expression on his face, the one Face would call a puppy-dog look if it wasn’t Hannibal who wore it, so. Maybe Face feels a bit bad. Or maybe he’s got a mild case of blue balls, whatever. But yeah, one night, when they are lying in bed, the whole house quiet, he slides his hand under the cover and searches for that magnificent cock. Hannibal’s still asleep, breath deep and even, and Face grins to himself and slips under the covers.
He carefully pulls the boss’ pants down and lets his breath ghost over Hannibal’s dick. Hmm. He hasn’t done that in a long time, and Hannibal just loves to be woken up with Face’s mouth on him. Plus, the tentacles are nowhere in sight, tucked away for the night or something, so. Face licks a trail from root to tip and grins at the sleepy murmur and restless shifting this causes. Perfect. He lowers himself over Hannibal’s cock, mouth sliding wetly down rapidly-hardening flesh, one hand rolling lightly-fuzzed balls and the other travelling lower, behind, tickling along the perineum, further down towards...
The world tilts and the next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back, an irate Hannibal looming over him. Face blinks at him and tries to move, but he’s held immobile. By Hannibal’s own weight, by two hard hands on his shoulders, and... ohhh. By ten strong tentacles, pressing him into the mattress, tightening when he squirms against them. Ohh. Ohhh, maybe those things aren’t so bad after all, Face thinks and shudders when they squeeze him tightly.
Hannibal’s watching him silently for a few moments, then a self-satisfied grin twists his face.
“Finally figured out the advantages, have you, kid?”
Face gasps, there’s a hand at his cock, no, not a hand, something else, and it wraps around and starts pumping, Hannibal grinds against him, and yeah, okay, he can see why they might come in handy. He opens his mouth to tell his lover that, but the tentacle on his cock twists sharply, another one slips underneath him and down the back of his pants, a third one slides into his mouth and he can’t really talk after that. He moans instead, and Hannibal chuckles and bites his neck. The tentacle in his mouth feels a bit like a dick, warm and firm, but way more flexible, he thinks as it curls around his tongue. The one in his pants probes against his hole, like a dick, too, like Hannibal when he’s impatient, wants inside. Niiice.
“Kid, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Ohh, that sounds promising. Face shudders at the implications. Hannibal’s sucking a hickey into his throat and yeah, he’s really looking forward to finding out what else they can do. Hannibal pulls back and chuckles again.
“Let me show you.”
Face isn’t sure what he imagined, but not that, no, this is so much better than anything he might have come up with. His clothes are long gone, torn to shreds and ripped from his body. Two tentacles are holding his arms above his head, his legs are spread open by two more, his nipples are red and swollen from the attention of Hannibal’s mouth and tongue and teeth. His hole is stretched wide around two, or three tentacles, who the hell cares, he doesn’t care, he’s lost count. Face sucks desperately on the slender appendage in his mouth, gasps for breath as Hannibal scatters bites over his chest. His ass is stuffed, full of dick, or dicks, or tentacles, whatever, something presses against his prostrate, a hand or something else wrapped around his cock. But Hannibal’s not moving, stays still, every limb of his immobile, not moving, not moving, why not? Face tries shoving down against the flesh inside him, but he can’t, Hannibal’s holding him down with arms and body and everything else, and Face moans again. Please move, Hannibal, please please, move already, please!
Hannibal bites his nipple again, Face can feel the grin against his skin and he whimpers. Pleasepleasepleaseplease...
And then, finally, finally, Hannibal starts moving. Everything starts moving; the tentacle in his mouth starts pumping, fucks his mouth, Face sucks hard as his eyes roll back in his head. His cock is twisted and pulled hard, delicious, rough and slick, perfect. The tentacles in his ass shove into him, pull back out, in again, so deep and hard and strong, and Face moans and shudders against every thrust.
So good, so perfect, and he’s never complaining about tentacles ever again, because they are great, they are awesome, they reach places in him that nothing’s ever reached before, and they are warm and firm and strong, they pump and they push, they thrust and they fuck, and Face can only lie there and enjoy the ride.
Hannibal, Hannibal, Hannibal, John, John, he murmurs around the column of flesh in his mouth, and his lover grins and rubs against him. And then there’s blunt pressure against his hole and Face’s eyes fly open – when did he close them? – and Hannibal doesn’t really think he can, does he? But Hannibal’s cock presses in, slowly, stretching him even more, and Face arches his neck and whimpers as his body tries to adapt to the intrusion. So full, so full, and now Hannibal’s moving, dick pistoning in and out with powerful snaps of his hips, and the tentacles still inside him move in counterpoint, in, out, in, in, out, in. Face wails, throws his head back, his legs are spread even wider, his arms held bruisingly tight. Hannibal’s looming over him and watching him with dark, dark eyes, shoves in as deep as he can get. Face moans and gasps and thrashes, one especially hard thrust against his prostrate and the tentacles around his cock squeezing tight and Face comes so hard his vision goes white.
He comes to with Hannibal still above him. Jesus. Face blinks, a bit dizzy. Fuck. He has to swallow a bit before he can talk with anything approaching eloquence. Jesus fuck!
Or maybe not so much for the eloquence. Who can blame him, though?
“That was... really, really great. I admit it, you were right, your tentacles are awesome. You win, boss.”
Hannibal’s grin is shark-like, sharp teeth glinting in the semi-darkness of the room.
“Didn’t I tell you, kid? You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
And now Face realizes that Hannibal’s still hard against him. Suddenly Face is on his stomach, rough hands pulling his hips up. Something nudges against his hole, slips inside easily, something else squeezes in along with it. More tentacles curl around his arms, hips, legs, spread him wide and shove his upper body down. Hannibal drapes himself over Face, dick nudging at his hole again, there are teeth on his ear and Face eyes widen when he hears the whispered growl.
“We’re far from finished, boy.”
Oh God, he’s gonna die. But what a way to go, fucked to death by Hannibal’s eleven dicks, Face thinks and moans when Hannibal starts moving.