Leonard's not getting anything done. He's staring at his laptop, at his Facebook, hands hesitantly moving over his keyboard before he deletes whatever meaningless response he was about to make to Raj. Wets his mouth and peeks up at where Sheldon's working at his desk, back tensed as he hunches over, typing at lightning speed.
Opens up an empty chatbox to Sheldon's account that he never checks. Feels safe enough to type and erase his thoughts as they come.
Pay attention to me.
I want you.
You're a terrible boyfriend.
I've been horny for days.
Deletes them all instead of sending, huffing quietly to himself – he really is pathetic – before closing Facebook entirely and dragging his sorry ass over to a Spock/Kirk fic archive, because if he can't get any, he can at least read about someone else enjoying themselves.
He's actually deeply engrossed in an arranged marriage AU, the sexual tension building so slowly that Leonard's sure he's gonna be up all night reading to the end (will probably jerk off once Sheldon goes to bed), when he hears Sheldon practically slam his laptop closed.
He tears his eyes away, but his boyfriend isn't moving. Taps his fingers against the desk, something like impatience trembling through him, and Leonard has enough time to remember that Sheldon can sense (taste) when he's aroused before Sheldon's rolling back in his chair, standing and turning to him so quickly that Leonard feels a spike of fear at the darkness in his eyes, the aggressive way his body's angled.
His traitorous dick presses against his inseam.
"I can't get anything done," Sheldon growls, accusatory as he moves closer, and Leonard fumbles with his laptop, closing it and gently tossing it onto the end table before Sheldon's on him, practically climbing into his chair with him, kissing him harshly, hungrily. It used to be awkward, used to be weird, but Sheldon's a fast learner, and he's almost always willing to experiment and expound on the original hypothesis once he's comfortable with the foundation.
He bites at Leonard's lower lip, nipping hard as his fingers tangle in Leonard's curls, heedless of the product, the stickiness on his hands, and Leonard forgets how easily Sheldon falls into this, answering a call he hadn't been aware of until the incident six months ago.
If someone had told him the day before then that Sheldon Cooper was an incubus, Leonard would have laughed right in their face. Would have probably died laughing at the idea of his stiff, cold, logical, sex-repulsed-with-an-aversion-to-even-the-simplest-of-touches roommate as someone who needed sex to survive.
And yet here they are, Sheldon's hands on the fly of his pants, pulling him up before pushing him onto the couch. "You couldn't have waited," Sheldon hisses. "Until I was done writing," yanks down his zipper and Leonard arches against him, grinding his hips as Sheldon palms his cock. "You little hussy."
"F-forgot," Leonard admits as Sheldon's hands scrabble with his pants, trying to pull them down over his hips, so, so impatient now that he's given in. "Please, Sheldon, please, don't stop."
"I'm not going to," he promises, voice dropping until it almost sounds like a threat, and Leonard claws at his back trying to draw him in.
He can feel the moment Sheldon's control gives way like it's a tangible thing, a literal dam bursting forth. Sheldon reaches down with his hands and undoes the fly of his own pants only to have tentacles burst out immediately, touching Leonard without any hesitation, without any sense of shame. A few slide into Leonard's pants, teasingly touching his genitals, spreading slime along his balls and curling to press behind, between. Another set grab onto the belt loops and rip his pants off, possibly tearing them, but Leonard doesn't care, can't care.
"Not even wearing underwear," Sheldon's shaking, and Leonard can't be sure if it's entirely out of anger. "You wanted this."
"Y-yuh," Leonard says, unable to deny it, and Sheldon lifts a hand off the couch to skate up his body underneath his shirt, pinching at a nipple to see him writhe.
Somehow, the rest of his clothes get discarded, and Sheldon's follow not long after. Leonard's too distracted by the tentacle pressing at his ass, against the muscle around his hole, thrusting in just slightly before pulling back, in and out, maddening and teasing, and if anything, Sheldon's gotten so good at winding him up. Leonard tries to grind back down, trying to get more, and in an instant, tentacles lash around his thighs, spreading him wide and rendering him immobile. More wrap around his arms, press him into the couch, and Sheldon slides closer, until Leonard's lower half is on his lap and he can feel every tremor that runs through his body, taste every spike of arousal.
Finally, the tentacle prepping him reaches the end of its patience, and it slams into him, coated generously in its own slime, and where it might have seemed thin and small to begin with, it gets larger with every thrust, until Leonard's staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, a litany of wordless noises falling from his lips. "Want more?" Sheldon asks, a thin tentacle sliding against the slit of his cock, tip dipping in before pulling back and Leonard can't answer, can't get past the overwhelming sensation, and he knows why.
"I can't read minds, Leonard."
In six months, Sheldon's gone from the awkward, fumbling virgin he had been to this, confident and masterful, knowing when to push and when to give.
Leonard has, in six months, discovered the depths of his own sluttiness, because it's enough to keep an incubus sated. "F-fuck me, fuck me, please, please fuck me," he forces the words out, needing it, needing to feel it move and fill him up and Sheldon obliges, moving so slowly that Leonard keens with every thrust.
"The entire apartment building's going to hear you," Sheldon speculates, grinning wickedly into Leonard's skin as Leonard's cock jumps at the thought. The tentacle toying with him wraps loosely around his dick, stroking too softly for him to get off on as the tentacle inside him moves so slowly Leonard feels like he can't breathe.
He thrashes, and the tentacles tighten their holds, genuinely immobilizing him now, and oh fuck, oh fuck, the one fucking him picks up its pace, pulling back before slamming home. Thrusting harder, a little faster, and Leonard's arching, moaning pathetically for more.
Sheldon noses at his jawline, and Leonard's head goes back, allows him to press his mouth against his throat, to murmur secrets into his skin. "Do you know why I make you wait, hmm?"
"B-because you're evil."
"Demonic, perhaps." Can feel the curve of his smile. "You taste so much better when you're wound up and frustrated. When all you want is for me to do this," thrusts so hard and deep into him that there are sparks of light in Leonard's vision, "for hours."
It's the truth. That's what he wants. He's babbling something along those lines, unable to get his thoughts in order, and Sheldon huffs a breathy laugh into his skin and starts fucking him in earnest, harder, faster. Some of the tentacles massage his cheeks, others curling around his nipples, touching him all over and holding him down for Sheldon's enjoyment, for Sheldon to feast on.
Leonard comes, shaking and thrashing from being fucked, from the light touches the tentacle stroking him deemed worthy to give, and his body starts to go lax, hips shuddering which only makes him more aware of the tentacle inside him, the way every twitch drives it deeper. He can feel slime and come dripping between his thighs – how they manage to have a clean apartment when this happens several times a week is beyond him. They rest there, comfortably, and Leonard feels so warm and secure that he doesn't even question it when the tentacle starts to pull out, making him leak more.
Only, the moment it's gone, there's another in its place, scooping up what leaked out of him and pushing it back in before following itself, small and lithe and Leonard moans brokenly when the revelation finally dawns on him. "Hmm?" Sheldon hums as the tentacle massages in delicious circles around Leonard's prostate, close enough to make his nerves twinge in hypersensitivity, but far enough away that it isn't unbearable. "Don't you want this?"
"At least give me- give me-" The slime was a powerful aphrodisiac, able to make him last, to come multiple times without pause, to make this part bearable without him having to feel the ache of his mistakes. He sees a tentacle weaving in front of his face and his mouth opens. He chases after it only to have it press against his jaw, angling his head back as Sheldon continues to nuzzle at his throat.
"Not this time," he says. Pauses for a moment, allowing Leonard to take it in, to decide whether he wants to put a stop to this or if he's willing to let Sheldon push him as far as he can take.
Leonard nods frantically, pathetic and needy and desperate. They've never done this, never, and it's scary, but god, does he want it, wants to be in his right mind, wants to be aware as Sheldon unravels with him, as he sates himself on Leonard's lust and release. Sheldon's hand grips his hip, tight and possessive as the tentacle inside him circles closer to his prostate.
His chest is already heaving, cock twitching when it starts tormenting him just right, when it's hitting that spot over and over again, relentless, and Leonard's going to chew through his own bottom lip at this rate. It does hurt a little, but he's always been a little bit of a masochist, enjoyed his own suffering, and honestly, no one should be surprised at this point that he's into this, into being controlled and wrung out. He's into it even more now that it's Sheldon.
Sheldon's patient when he wants to be, able to bide his time, and so he keeps things slow, working Leonard up until he's hard again, until he's sweating all over, quivering in Sheldon's hold with every stroke over his prostate. His dick is leaking, but before he can start trying to reach for an orgasm, tentacles lash around the base, coiling around his balls, pulling them apart and squeezing until he's been pushed away from the edge. Then, the tentacle inside him begins to move again, the overwhelming sensation practically drowning him.
Sheldon hums contentedly, and Leonard feels another tentacle brush against his ass, teasing between his cheeks before pressing at his hole. "Shelly," he whimpers and forces his legs wider, inviting.
"Soon," Sheldon promises, moving his hand from Leonard's hip to his cock, to the puddle of precome sitting on his stomach. "Wet little slut."
Takes Leonard's dick in hand, thumb circling mercilessly over the head as the tentacle inside him does the same. This time, Leonard sees one of the other tentacles spurt ejaculate suddenly, answering any questions he might have had about what this was doing for Sheldon himself.
Leonard can't decide whether to writhe towards or away, neither option offering him much relief, and honestly, he's fine with that. He's more than fine with that. He signed up for this. He arches against him, whining in his throat, and Sheldon, who has never endured Leonard's whiny nature in good spirits, smirks.
"Can't have that yet," Sheldon says, squeezing him tighter, both tentacle and finger moving faster.
Leonard bucks, "Sheldon, I'm gonna-!"
"Shhh, no. Not yet." Releases his dick and taps a fingertip against the slit, watching as the string of precome connects the two before it breaks. When Sheldon offers his fingers to Leonard's mouth, Leonard doesn't even think, just sucks on them desperately, tongue moving with practice, wanting, begging for something to make this go from phenomenal to mindblowing.
It's the sweetest torture he's ever known, and the fact that he's all but begging for it...
A thick tentacle pushes into him, and Leonard arches off the couch, lips opened in a silent plea, sweat prickling anew at his temples. The smaller tentacle fills out a little until the moan Leonard gives is partially pained. Sheldon allows it to shrink for his comfort, but he feels so fucking full, more than he's ever felt, and they aren't even moving yet – god, what is movement going to feel like...
Before he can get lost in the thought, Sheldon's tweaking a nipple, grounding him in this moment, keeping him from floating away. Leonard pushes his chest up, feeling skin un-stick from the couch, and Sheldon gently pushes him back down. Bends his head and bites at the nub. When he releases it, two tentacles come up to circle them, rolling and playing with them until Leonard is sensitive, and it occurs to him quite suddenly that this is what Sheldon wanted when this began. Him, pliant and open and taking anything and everything Sheldon deigns to give him without complaint.
If he didn't want the exact same thing, he'd be offended at how easily he fell into Sheldon's hands.
Slowly, the tentacles inside him start to move. They go together, slow enough for Leonard to feel the burn as they reach deep before pulling back. He moans, eyes fluttering closed as he allows himself to feel, to fall headfirst into sensation without seeking a way back out. It's so much – just on the border of too much without crossing – and it feels so, so-
"I can never sleep with anyone else," he realizes, stumbling the phrase aloud.
"That was the plan," Sheldon mumbles. "As I understood it."
"Yeah, yeah, it is, I just- f-ffffuck," he whimpers as they push into him again. "Fuck, Sheldon."
"Mmm," Sheldon hums again, unhelpfully. "I wonder how many times you could achieve orgasm without the assistance of slime." His cock throbs. It's the best answer he's got. "I could keep going."
"Y-yeah," Leonard mumbles absently, circling his hips the next time they thrust into him and oh fuck it's the best thing he ever felt. Sensing (or tasting) the change, Sheldon does it again, a little harder, feeling him as he shudders, as he shakes.
The problem with this is that Leonard's mouth is usually occupied. Without that, there's nothing keeping him from making every loud noise that bursts out of his chest, from swearing and pleading and with every coherent word he manages, Sheldon speeds up the pace, the relentless stimulation, fucking into him faster, circling his nipples, rubbing over his cockhead.
"Please," he begs, hands clutching uselessly with nothing to grab onto. "Please, oh, oh god, please Sheldon, fuck me, let me come, let me, please, please, pleasepleasepleasePLEASE!" They start alternating thrusts, the copious amounts of ejaculate and slime allowing them to move easily in his body and oh god he's going to die like this, he's going to die. He says so out loud.
"I could always stop," Sheldon says, trying to sound unaffected, but there's something husky in his voice, something breathy.
"Don't you dare," Leonard practically yells, thrashing and moaning like a wanton whore before finally he feels the tentacles tense up, engorge, and then release inside him as others spurt on top of him, streaking his body along with the slime, laying claim. Leonard's hopelessly tearing apart at the seams before the tentacles loosen their holds on him, before finally Sheldon's hand starts pulling at his cock, hard and fast, slipping over his skin without hesitation and Leonard comes so hard he forgets, for a moment, about anything.
Sheldon offers up his fingers again, and Leonard absently sucks them into his mouth, not caring about the taste, just wanting to please Sheldon, wanting to make him never want to leave. Sheldon surprises him by turning his head and kissing him deeply, unperturbed by the taste of it himself.
They make out like that, comfortably cuddled, Leonard wrapped in the most secure embrace he could ever know, until Sheldon finally breaks for air, murmurs, "Do you want more?"
"Please," he says, unable to stop himself even now.
Sheldon leans in to kiss him again, and as their tongues slide against each other, he can feel it change, can taste the familiar sweet taste of the slime as it coats his tongue, his mouth, and Leonard swallows it down again and again until he can feel the heat rushing through his body, can feel his sensitized cock twitch and fill back to life.
Like this, he can keep going until he's physically empty.
Sheldon's tongue fucks into his mouth as a new tentacle curls the tip up and pushes it inside his loosened hole. Leonard's helplessly lost in it all, mewling into Sheldon's mouth, around Sheldon's tenta-tongue, shuddering as he takes the knot of the tentacle pushing against his prostate again and again, and he never, ever wants this to stop.