Work Text:
During one nice day…
Zeal looked at Wilson, who sat slouched at the opposite end of the oversized bath, half-submerged, his tentacles lazily drifting through the warm water. Their gazes locked, the silence thick with unspoken tension before Zeal raised an eyebrow.
"What are you looking at?" Wilson grumbled, his tone slightly defensive. His brow twitched as if offended, though it was hard to take seriously with the way his damp bangs clung to his forehead and a tentacle idly curled around the nearest bath duck.
Zeal crossed his arms, arching a brow even higher. “Well, sir, it’s my bath time. So I should be the one asking, what the hell are you doing in my tub?”
Wilson didn’t reply right away. His half-transformed form glistened with water, soft bioluminescent markings faintly pulsing beneath the surface. His tentacles sloshed against the tiled edge as he shifted his weight, clearly too comfortable to feel guilty.
"You act like I broke in or something," he muttered, then looked off to the side. "This is our tub now. You never complain when I'm in it with you before."
Zeal gave him a look. “Not when you’re actually here to relax with me. Not when you’re soaking like a sulking sea monster and acting like I’ve offended you just by breathing.”
"What’re you saying all that to me for?" Wilson huffed, eyeing Zeal like he wanted to argue but didn't have the energy to form a full complaint. Despite his tone, his tentacles were slowly inching closer, one curling around a bath sponge like it was pretending to be nonchalant.
Zeal just smirked and leaned back, his wet hair clinging to his neck. “If you miss me, just say so, you silly.”
“I do not.”
“You sure do act like someone who does.” Zeal tilted his head, playful and sharp. “Wilson.”
Wilson went quiet.
"..."
Zeal grinned, the kind of grin that said gotcha. He closed his eyes in victory, until he felt a shift beneath the water. A shiver crawled up his spine as something slick and warm grazed along the inside of his thigh.
Cracking one eye open, he looked toward Wilson. “Ah. I see.”
“Shut up.” Wilson pretended to roll his eyes again, but his face was tinted just a little too pink, ears slightly flushed. “Coincidence.”
“Uh huh. Sure,” Zeal hummed, voice dropping teasingly. One tentacle slid along his waist now, then circled his hips with casual expertise. “You’re the neediest monster I’ve ever met.”
“Am not.”
Zeal arched his back slightly as one of Wilson’s tentacles slipped lower, brushing over his entrance, teasing, not pushing, just there. He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Oh.”
“...You're not complaining now,” Wilson muttered, but he was watching Zeal closely, eyes half-lidded and somehow possessive.
Zeal chuckled, it was low and sultry. “Mm. You just gonna keep teasing me or… are you gonna do something about it?”
Wilson’s tentacles responded before his mouth did, tightening gently around Zeal’s thighs, pulling him a little closer in the water. The ripple of movement masked the way one slipped behind him with precise intent.
“Maybe I will,” Wilson said finally, his grin subtle, smug. “Maybe I’ll remind you whose tub this really is.”
Zeal tilted his head back with a low laugh, baring his throat. “Then quit being shy and prove it, big guy.” Somehow, through years of experimentation, habit, or sheer monster instinct, Wilson's tentacles worked like perfect restraints. Silky smooth yet deceptively strong, they wrapped around Zeal’s wrists, waist, and thighs in languid coils, cradling him in the warm water as if he were some kind of prized treasure. Not that Zeal was complaining, tho.
One of those thick, pulsing limbs slithered between Zeal’s legs, just barely brushing against his entrance. It didn’t push in right away, it teased. A lazy, calculated nudge that made Zeal arch an eyebrow.
“Oh?” he murmured, tilting his head curiously. “Feeling bold tonight, huh?”
Wilson didn’t answer. He simply dipped beneath the water, only a flick of movement and ripple left in his wake. Zeal could no longer see him, but he felt him. A moment later, a thicker pressure began to stretch him open, and he flinched with a sharp inhale, gripping the edge of the tub with both hands.
A low, gritted groan threatened to slip out, but he swallowed it down. If Wilson wanted to be sneaky, then Zeal would make him work for the reactions.
‘Is it mating season or something?’ Zeal mused to himself. Wilson rarely took the initiative so aggressively like this. Sure, he was touchy, clingy even, but bold? That was new. And deliciously intriguing.
Well, Zeal thought with a sly smile, if he wants to act like a beast, I’ll just tease him a little and see how far he goes.
Besides, the idea of this big bad Kraken trying to stay cool while clearly riled up was kind of hilarious. Zeal stifled a laugh, he couldn’t help but think again how funny it was that his monster boyfriend wasn’t something like a hamster hybrid instead. A little puffball with attitude would’ve suited Wilson’s sulky, tsundere charm.
But no, he got a Kraken. Tentacles and all. He was still chuckling softly to himself when the sharp pull of suction snapped him out of it.
“Ah—!” Zeal gasped, eyes widening when he felt something latch onto his chest. He glanced down to find two of Wilson’s smaller tentacles latched tightly around his nipples, suction cups rhythmically pulsing, tugging. The sensation was intense and came without warning. Zeal’s breath hitched.
When he looked back across the bath, Wilson had resurfaced, chin resting on folded arms along the edge of the tub, watching him smugly.
“Really?” Zeal scoffed breathlessly. “Suction cups now?”
Wilson blinked slowly, his expression the perfect picture of faux innocence. “I’m multi-talented.”
Zeal huffed a laugh, squirming slightly as the tentacle inside him curled ever so subtly, there, and the suction on his nipples grew stronger. “My, your height can’t compare to how smug you are.”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Just because you’re taller than me doesn’t mean anything.”
Zeal narrowed his eyes, biting back a moan as he arched his back. “Suuure,” he drawled. “You just keep thinking that while you’re the one who’s tentacle-deep in me.”
That made Wilson snort and look away quickly, as if he were the one being teased now. Zeal smirked wider. The tentacles inside Zeal began to shift, slow, curling motions that dragged along every sensitive nerve. They pulsed with slick, measured rhythm, exploring him from the inside with a patience that only made it worse. Or better.
Zeal's breath hitched again when Wilson moved closer, the water rippling with his advance. He sank between Zeal’s thighs, his smaller frame fitting naturally against Zeal’s body, tentacles anchoring them close together. Zeal’s wrists were still gently restrained, arms propped against the edge of the tub as Wilson pressed in.
Then came the suction cups again, wet and hungry, latching onto his nipples, pulling and releasing in intervals. But the worst, or best, was the one pressing rhythmically against Zeal’s clit. Zeal gasped, his hips twitching in reflex, body nearly folding in on itself.
"F-fuck," he exhaled shakily, laughing breathlessly as the stimulation crawled over his skin like electricity. “You really planned this, didn’t you…”
Wilson didn’t respond right away, just looked up at him through wet bangs, pupils blown and expression flushed, mouth slightly open as if tasting every sound Zeal made. He was smaller than Zeal, sure, but his appetite could easily put most beasts to shame. That thought made Zeal laugh again, moaning through the grin as the tentacles inside him twisted in tandem.
“You’re like a damn machine,” Zeal said with a soft gasp. “You ever heard of mercy?”
“Nope,” Wilson deadpanned, cheeks pink but clearly enjoying himself. Then he shifted his hips slightly, and Zeal jolted when he felt something else, something hot, rub against him under the water.
Zeal looked down, blinking once before realizing. “Ah—seriously?” He burst into laughter, half-moan, half-shocked chuckle. “You’re giving me the whole deluxe combo today?”
“Shut up, Zeal,” Wilson muttered, clearly flustered despite the boldness of his actions. His cock now rested between Zeal’s folds, rubbing slowly, head catching against Zeal’s slick entrance as his tentacles kept up their rhythm inside and out. The mix of textures, thick and ridged, soft and slick, was absolutely maddening.
“Okaaaayyy, Yu Q Wilson,” Zeal sing-songed between staggered breaths, his voice laced with amusement and heat. “You are sooo eager today~ What got into you, huh?”
Wilson grumbled louder this time, just before pressing his hips forward, pushing in along with one of the thicker tentacles, filling Zeal even deeper.
Zeal’s mouth fell open, a strangled moan catching in his throat. “W-wait, fuck, seriously—!”
“No talking,” Wilson said, his voice low now, almost growled against Zeal’s chest. “You asked for it at this point.”
And from there, he thrust in again, tentacles tightening, suction cups dragging hard against Zeal’s nipples and clit, sending jolts through his already overstimulated body.
Zeal laughed again, delirious and dazed. “God—you’re so lucky I like monsters.”
Wilson huffed, yet his eyes gleaming. “Yeah? You’ll be loving them even more in a minute.”
The tentacles restraining Zeal tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt, never that, but just enough to remind him who was in control. The sensation sent another pulse of heat straight through him, especially as Wilson picked up his pace. The movement inside him grew deeper, firmer, with a rolling rhythm that had Zeal’s head falling back, water lapping at his shoulders.
Wilson still said nothing.
He simply moved, and keep on watching.
His eyes were half-lidded, glassy with arousal, but his lips remained sealed. Not even a grunt. Just breathing, slow and steady, as if the entire purpose of his existence was to study every twitch of Zeal’s expression. Every moan. Every flinch. Every flutter of eyelashes and helpless breath.
Zeal blinked, panting heavily, suddenly aware of the silence between them.
“H-haah… what’s up with that face?” he gasped out between moans, voice laced with strained amusement even as his cunt was being ruthlessly pounded by the combined efforts of Wilson’s thick shaft and that relentless tentacle. “You’re staring like, ah, like you’re hypnotized or something—”
“Mm. Nothing,” Wilson answered, dodging the question with a simple shrug, like it meant nothing. Like this wasn’t the most he’d ever done unprompted.
Zeal narrowed his eyes, about to push further, but was rudely interrupted as another tentacle slid between his lips. Wet, warm, and thick, it muffled his protest instantly as it coiled deeper into his mouth, careful not to choke but enough to press down on his tongue with a teasing firmness.
“Mmf—” Zeal groaned, voice reduced to a throaty, indignant sound. Real mature, he thought dryly, glaring at Wilson as best as he could while suckling instinctively around the intrusion.
And yet… even through the haze of pleasure, something itched at the back of his mind.
He began mentally counting the tentacles again.
One wrapped around his wrists. Another one coiled around his legs. One pistoning deep inside him. One teasing his clit. Another two suckling greedily on his nipple. The one in his mouth made seven.
But Wilson had eight.
Where the hell was the last one?
Even as his body trembled under the assault of sensations, suction pulling deliciously on his most sensitive places, that thick cock splitting him open alongside the smooth girth of the tentacle inside him, the steady rhythm that made his toes curl, Zeal couldn’t help but eye Wilson suspiciously.
The Kraken hybrid remained infuriatingly composed, cheeks flushed but otherwise calm. Too calm. His quiet smirk betrayed something, but not what. He hadn't said more than three words. Not a single boast. Not a single flirty jab?
Just… watching.
It was the kind of gaze that made Zeal squirm, not just from the stimulation, but from the intensity. It wasn’t possessive or even predatory.
It was adoring.
Like Wilson was drinking in every sound Zeal made, every clench of muscle, every gasp like it was the first time he’d seen it.
That thought made Zeal pause, even as his body bucked with another jolt of pleasure. The missing eighth tentacle was still unaccounted for, and Wilson wasn’t giving up any clues. He was just… giving. Pouring everything into Zeal without asking for anything back. Quiet. Focused.
Why?
Zeal groaned again around the tentacle in his mouth, eyes fluttering, and looked down at him, flushed and breathless, unable to voice the growing question behind his teeth:
What are you thinking, Wilson?
Because if this was just the beginning, Zeal had a feeling he was in for far more than he expected. Zeal could barely think anymore. His body trembled with overstimulation, each breath shaky and drawn from deep in his chest, every inch of him stretched and claimed. But then, just when he thought Wilson had used everything he had, he felt it.
A sudden pressure against his backside.
His eyes snapped open wide, a muffled gasp escaping around the tentacle still stuffed in his mouth. That last tentacle. The eighth.
It had finally made its move.
It nudged at his ass, slow and deliberate, testing him, slick, warm, pulsing faintly with anticipation. Zeal’s back arched instinctively, a shock running through his system. Now, now every part of him was being touched, filled, claimed. He didn’t even know his body could handle this much stimulation. But somehow, it was. Barely.
From beneath hooded lids, he caught sight of Wilson’s expression, subtle, but clear. He was proud. Not just horny. Not just smug. But genuinely proud of what he was doing. Watching Zeal fall apart under the sheer coordination of his effort like it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
Zeal tried, really tried, to ask if this was some sort of Kraken mating thing. Because this? This level of intensity? It felt like Wilson was trying to breed him through the damn ocean floor, well, metaphorically.
But with a thick tentacle in his mouth, three working his clit and nipples in maddening suction, two keeping his arms and legs locked down, one thrusting inside his cunt beside Wilson’s thick cock, and now the final one breaching his ass slowly, talking was not exactly on the table.
He choked on a moan as the eighth tentacle slid in deeper. The stretch forced tears to the corners of his eyes, his legs twitching uncontrollably as the water sloshed wildly around them. The heated slickness of it all, the water amplifying every thrust and squelch, it was utterly debauched.
Wilson moved closer in that moment, his body pressing fully against Zeal now. No more gap between them. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Zeal’s neck, gentle, like a sweet contrast to the chaos of everything else happening. A soft peck that made Zeal’s heart jump more than any thrust.
The intimacy of that kiss, compared to the feral way his body was being used, that was what made Zeal’s mind finally start to unravel.
The pace picked up. Everything moved faster. Wilson's cock drove into him harder, deeper, more precise. His tentacles matched it, an obscene symphony of rhythm that Zeal could feel in his bones. His muscles tensed and trembled, and he gasped out another stifled cry, saliva dripping down his chin as he gave up trying to hold back.
Oh shit. His thoughts were spiraling. This is actually crazy. Like, full-on insane.
He wanted to curse Wilson out. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to scream. But all he could do was let the waves crash through his body, his legs spreading wider as one of the tentacles coiled tighter around his thighs to hold him still, forcing him to take it all.
Wilson was hitting deeper now, farther than Zeal thought possible. His toes curled, his whole body buckled, and pleasure ripped through him in wave after wave as if the bathwater itself was boiling with how high-strung his nerves had become.
He felt like a vessel, his body filled to the brim, overstimulated to the point of breaking, but beneath the chaos, there was something grounding in Wilson’s quiet, focused presence. And somewhere in the back of his mind, Zeal realized: If this really is mating season… I’m never surviving the next few days.
The pace increased again.
Water splashed violently against the porcelain tub, slapping in rhythm with the heavy thrusts driving into Zeal’s body. His throat was stuffed, his cunt stretched wide around both Wilson’s cock and a slick, pulsating tentacle, his ass now similarly filled by the last one, and still, still he found himself thinking.
Or trying to.
“F-fuck—!” Zeal groaned around the thick limb in his mouth, words drowned by the heat in his chest and the brutal pleasure that made his limbs quake. Why is he so quiet?!
It was maddening.
The only sounds that filled the bathroom were Zeal’s desperate moans, the obscene wet noises of thrusting tentacles, and the chaotic sloshing of water echoing off the walls. And Wilson?
Wilson was so silent.
Not a moan, not a grunt, just steady, heavy breathing. Focused. Calm. Like he was meditating through the act of fucking Zeal within an inch of his life.
Zeal’s eyes fluttered open briefly, dazed and teary, trying to look down past the blur of heat. Wilson’s bangs were soaked, clinging to his face, his expression unreadable beneath dark lashes. His mouth was slightly parted, breaths ragged, but still no words.
“AH—!” Zeal cried out, gagging around the tentacle as Wilson angled his hips and hit it, his prostate, struck dead-on with pinpoint precision. Again. And again. Stars burst behind his eyes.
Wilson moved closer, his cock grinding into that same sensitive spot with each thrust, driving it deeper and deeper with the aid of his writhing tentacle. Zeal could hardly breathe. His body jerked, convulsing with every push, a raw, stuttering moan rumbling from his chest.
And still, Wilson said nothing.
Instead, he pressed forward and buried his face in the crook of Zeal’s neck, close, intimate, almost shy. As if he didn’t want to be seen. His breaths ghosted hot and quick against Zeal’s skin, almost trembling. But his hands… His hands were firm.
One slid across Zeal’s trembling abdomen.
And stilled.
Fingers spread wide, Wilson felt him, right over the bulge forming in Zeal’s belly, where his cock and tentacles visibly moved beneath the skin, shifting and pulsing inside him with every deep thrust.
Zeal whimpered, every nerve alight. It was too much, but he didn’t want it to stop.
What was this?
It wasn’t just a fuck. Not anymore. It felt too deliberate. Too reverent. Like Wilson was worshipping every inch of Zeal without saying a word. Like he was giving everything, just for him.
Even in the haze of overstimulation, Zeal's thoughts swam with questions. What is he thinking? Why does this feel so... intense? Why won't he say anything?
He tried to move, to grab at him, to get him to talk, to say something, anything, but the tentacles kept him locked in place, arms splayed, legs wide open, throat gagged and cunt full and mind spiraling.
Wilson nuzzled in tighter against his neck, his hand on Zeal’s belly trembling faintly.
Why? Zeal thought, chest heaving. Why do you look like you’re holding something back?
He couldn’t say it aloud. Not like this. But he wanted to know. Even with tears in the corners of his eyes and his body nearly broken from pleasure, Zeal wasn’t overwhelmed by the act itself.
He was overwhelmed by Wilson’s silence.
Because silence, with Wilson, usually meant something was brewing.
And Zeal wasn’t sure if he was ready for the answer.
“You wanna say something, Zeal?” Wilson asked, voice low, amused, and entirely too casual for the absolutely feral way he was mating him.
Zeal blinked, his eyes glassy, mouth full of tentacle, as he shot Wilson a wide-eyed are you serious right now? look.
Oh, he thought bitterly, NOW he wants to talk?
Because no, Zeal did want to say something. He wanted to yell, to scold, to ask if Wilson had lost his mind or if this was some unspoken Kraken mating ritual he’d conveniently “forgotten” to mention until Zeal was already folded in half and filled to the brim like some personal deep-sea offering.
But how could he speak? How could he breathe, even, when he had a tentacle buried in his throat, another in his ass, Wilson’s cock and a tentacle in his cunt, suction cups on his nipples, his legs splayed wide and trembling from being spread so long, and—
Yeah. Talking was a bit of a stretch right now.
Wilson, of course, just chuckled knowingly, reading Zeal’s expression like a picture book.
“I will explain,” he said, a little breathless now, but still calm, obnoxiously calm. “I promise. Just… take everything for now. Don’t worry about what I’m thinking.”
Zeal rolled his eyes with as much sass as he could muster while drooling around a tentacle. How convenient. He opened his mouth to make some kind of snarky noise, but what came out was not sarcasm.
“Mnngh—AH—!”
A moan. Loud, cracked, and utterly unfiltered.
It escaped without his permission, deep from the gut, aching with surprise as his body convulsed under a particularly ruthless thrust. His toes curled. His vision swam. And when he dared to look at Wilson again, he saw those irritatingly smug brows raise with pride.
Asshole, Zeal thought, cheeks burning red.
The squelching sounds of tentacles thrusting inside him filled the steamy air, bouncing off the tiled walls of their shared bath like obscene music. The water rippled violently, waves crashing against the rim of the tub as if it couldn’t contain them.
And then Wilson moved again, disappearing under the waterline without a word.
Zeal flinched. “W-what the—”
But he didn’t get to finish that thought, because the suction that had been on his clit, the steady rhythm that had been driving him absolutely insane, was suddenly gone, even Wilson pull out without notice.
Replaced.
By something hot. Wet. And far more alive.
Zeal’s back arched, his eyes rolled up, and his legs kicked weakly as Wilson’s mouth latched onto his clit.
“HNNGH-AH!!” he cried out, barely muffled now by the thick tentacle still pumping his throat. His whole body spasmed violently as Wilson sucked, flicked, and teased his clit like a man starved.
The contrast of his cold breath and hot tongue made Zeal’s nerves light up in every direction. It was unfair. Wilson knew his body too well. He knew exactly where to bite, where to suck, where to drag his tongue in those infuriating little spirals that made Zeal’s legs shake uncontrollably.
The two tentacles around his thighs kept him wide open, locked in place. He was entirely at Wilson’s mercy. And Wilson had no intention of being merciful.
Zeal whimpered again, voice ragged and raw. It’s too much! He didn’t know whether to curse or sob or come right then and there. But Wilson had told him to enjoy it.
So, for once… he let go.
Let the water rock them. Let the heat consume him. Let the tentacles use him. Let Wilson devour him from below, relentless and worshipful.
The sounds, the obscene squelching of thrusts, the slap of water, the wet suckling of Wilson’s tongue on his clit, his own broken cries, all of it echoed in their private space like a storm.
And Zeal? Zeal was drowning in it.
Wilson kept moving, slow but deep, like each thrust of the tentacles was etched into memory. The sloshing of the water was the only sound accompanying Zeal’s ragged breathing and the wet squelch of the tentacles moving in and out of him. Then, without warning, Wilson raised his head back to the surface, pushed himself fully in again and leaned back just slightly to take in the sight of Zeal.
Zeal trembled as another wave of climax passed through him, his muscles spasming slightly. He’d already come before, but it barely mattered now, his body still clenching, still reacting, overstimulated but utterly unable to stop.
The tentacle in his mouth was gently pulled away, leaving him gasping, drooling slightly as he struggled to catch his breath. His eyes locked onto Wilson’s, half-lidded, dazed, but definitely not done.
“…Y-You are—crazy,” Zeal breathed, voice hoarse but sharp with emotion. “What the hell’s up with you today?!”
Wilson just tilted his head, blinking slowly before offering a nonchalant shrug. “Monster instinct? I don’t know, man.”
“That is not an excuse,” Zeal snapped back with what little energy he had left, but it was more of a whimper than anything. His cheeks were flushed and his legs trembling from the intensity.
Wilson had the audacity to look unbothered. “By the way, I'm close,” he said casually, as if he wasn’t already buried deep inside Zeal with his tentacles practically tying him up.
Zeal let out a soft, breathy sigh between his moans. “You're already inside me. You might as well finish what you started… Just…keep going, Willy.”
Wilson groaned. “Don’t call me that!”
“I deserve to call you whatever I want after all this,” Zeal shot back, even as his voice hitched from another thrust. His body betrayed him, arching against Wilson, seeking more.
Wilson let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to pout, but the flush on his cheeks betrayed him. Zeal was taller than him, always had been, and now Wilson used that to his advantage. He grabbed the back of Zeal’s neck, tugging him down so their lips met. The kiss was surprisingly soft, sensual even, despite how wild everything else had been. Zeal gasped into it, his body trembling again from the combination of overstimulation and tenderness.
The tentacles never stopped, coiling around Zeal’s limbs, spreading his legs wider, holding him just right. They tightened with every shift of his hips. At this point, it was more like they were helping him ride Wilson, bouncing him slowly as water spilled over the sides of the tub.
Wilson let his hands roam, one resting against Zeal’s flushed chest, the other gripping his thigh to guide his movements. The way Zeal clung to him, nails pressing into his shoulders, moaning against his lips—it was everything Wilson wanted. And still, Zeal gave more.
“H-hngh-ah, Wilson,” Zeal whimpered into the kiss, head swimming. “You…ah—seriously gonna explain after this, right?”
Wilson chuckled softly against Zeal’s lips, his voice low and teasing. “You’re still thinking straight? Impressive.”
Zeal bit his bottom lip, but his body betrayed him with another uncontrollable moan when Wilson adjusted his angle and hit that spot again, his prostate, and Zeal’s eyes rolled back for a second. The tentacles didn’t let up, and neither did Wilson.
“Then stop making me think!” Zeal snapped, frustrated and flustered all in one.
Wilson’s response was a playful laughed, followed by one last deep thrust, and everything began to blur as the rhythm built toward its final crescendo.
Since Zeal himself had said, "Stop making me think," Wilson took that as full permission to act without restraint. He moved suddenly, standing up with a sharp motion that made Zeal yelp, a startled sound that melted into a moan as the tentacles inside him shifted deeper from the motion, pressing against every sensitive spot and forcing his body to curl reflexively toward Wilson.
In the next moment, Zeal found himself pinned to the wall, Wilson’s weight firm and unrelenting against him. One of the writhing tentacles slipped from his wrist during the jolt, and Zeal instinctively wrapped his freed arm around Wilson’s neck, clinging to him as their lips met in a messy, heated kiss. Their mouths clashed with desperation, tongues sliding, breaths mingling, the kiss all teeth and heat as Zeal whimpered softly into it.
The tentacles responded to Zeal’s body’s need without hesitation, coiling tighter around his waist now, giving him support as they helped rock his hips down against Wilson’s thrusts. Each movement sent shivers through Zeal’s spine, dragging out gasps and needy whines as slick, wet sounds echoed around them, mingling with the rhythm of Zeal’s trembling voice and Wilson’s low, ragged groans.
“Hah!,” Wilson hissed against his lips, one hand gripping Zeal’s thigh and pulling him in harder, deeper, chasing that point of no return.
“Y-Yeah… inside—” Zeal moaned breathlessly, his nails digging into Wilson’s back as his legs tightened around him. “Do it…cum inside me—now.”
The tentacles around them pulsed in time with their movements, heightening every sensation, as if responding to Wilson’s growing urgency. His rhythm became more erratic, more desperate, and Zeal could feel the pressure building, every thrust, every sound, every desperate kiss lighting his nerves on fire.
The heat between them spiked, every breath a gasp, every movement electric, until finally, with a choked curse and a shuddering groan, Wilson buried himself deep and came, his body trembling as he spilled inside Zeal. The warmth filled him, spreading deliciously through his core as Zeal’s own body spasmed around him, pushed over the edge by the sensation and the overwhelming intimacy of it all.
Their foreheads touched, both of them panting, still pressed together against the wall as the tentacles slowly loosened their grip.
Zeal, flushed and glowing, whispered, “Next time, I’ll make you think too much.”
Both of them trembled slightly, their bodies still buzzing from the intensity as Zeal let out a long, shaky sigh and leaned in to rest against Wilson’s shoulder. His skin clung to Wilson’s, damp with sweat and bathwater, the scent of sex still thick in the steamy air.
Without a word, they slipped back into the bathtub, the lukewarm water sloshing quietly around them. Zeal now sat atop Wilson, straddling him lazily, too spent to move much, though one of the tentacles still curled and moved inside him. He twitched slightly at the sensation, a sharp breath escaping him.
“Insatiable,” Zeal muttered with a half-laugh, peeking over his shoulder to glare at the slick tendril that was still gently squelching in and out of his back hole. His body gave an involuntary squeeze around both Wilson’s softening shaft and the tentacle, and he shuddered again. “Seriously… can’t even get one minute of peace?”
Wilson shrugged proudly, arms loosely holding Zeal’s hips under the water. “You’re the one who said not to make you think.”
Zeal gave him a deadpan look, but it softened almost instantly when Wilson’s voice dropped.
“…Are you satisfied, at least?” he asked, barely audible over the sound of rippling water.
“Huh?” Zeal blinked at him. The question wasn’t what he expected. It wasn’t teasing. It sounded… uncertain.
Without answering right away, Zeal reached up and gently brushed aside the wet bangs clinging to Wilson’s forehead, wanting to see his eyes properly. “Wilson…”
Wilson’s gaze flicked up at him for only a second before he looked away.
“…Are you going to tell me now?” Zeal asked, voice softer this time. It wasn’t an accusation, it was a plea for honesty. Something unspoken had lingered between them far too long.
“…After this,” Wilson murmured, eyes dodging again.
Then, as if to deflect the subject entirely, the tentacle inside Zeal shifted again, slow and deliberate. Zeal flinched, a sharp gasp hitching in his throat. He bit his lower lip, trying to suppress the moan that followed, his body clenching reactively around the intrusion.
“Seriously—” Zeal breathed, though his voice was shaky. “You really don’t know how to leave things alone, huh?”
The movement inside him continued, creating gentle waves that lapped against the edge of the tub. The faint wet noises from between them were punctuated by the sounds of shifting water and the faint stir of cum still leaking from Zeal’s overstimulated hole.
Despite everything, Zeal just hummed weakly and let his head fall forward, resting it against Wilson’s. His breath fanned across Wilson’s cheek as he exhaled. “What are you doing?” Wilson asked after a moment, confused but not resisting.
“Resting,” Zeal mumbled. “Apparently, a certain someone keeps dodging my question… so I’m just gonna pretend this is some kind of, what do they call it? Oh! Kraken mating season or something. I’ll file it under oceanic mysteries.”
Wilson looked at him like he had just short-circuited. “…What?”
“Hmph.” Zeal huffed dramatically, crossing his arms over Wilson’s chest as if he were sulking, though the glint in his eyes betrayed him. “Tsundere monster-boy breeds exhausted bar guy in a bathtub. Sounds like a niche romance visual novel.”
Wilson stared at him for a beat, mouth agape.
“…I’m—what the fuck, what the hell.”
Zeal gave him a smug look. “Too late. I’m already writing it in my head.”
Wilson groaned, dragging a wet hand over his face. “You’re being weird.”
“Mmhm,” Zeal replied, eyes fluttering shut as he nuzzled into the curve of Wilson’s neck. “And you’re still dodging.”
Wilson didn't reply right away. His arms tightened just slightly around Zeal’s waist, one hand trailing up his back.
“Shut up…I’ll tell you. Just… let me have this moment.”
Zeal didn't answer, but the way his fingers slipped into Wilson’s hair and held him close was all the response Wilson needed for now.
Wilson finally pulled his cock out with a slow, wet drag, leaving behind the slick fullness of his tentacles still working inside Zeal’s cunt. The stretch remained, the inner pressure rolling in waves as the tendrils curled and stroked him from the inside out, refusing to let him settle.
Zeal panted quietly, flushed and damp against the side of the tub. "Are we done?" he asked, half-lidded eyes turning to watch Wilson.
He blinked as the other man shifted, his monstrous form gradually receding, melting back into the human frame Zeal had grown used to… only two thick tentacles remained, one still sunk deep in Zeal’s dripping heat, the other buried snug in his ass, both writhing slowly as if savoring their last moments inside him.
Zeal’s breath hitched as he looked down at himself. His belly was visibly bulging with the movement. He could see the shape of Wilson’s tentacles gliding inside him from the inside, and something about that sight made his body clench involuntarily.
“…That’s so hot,” Zeal muttered, more to himself than to Wilson.
Wilson smirked from where he sat on the edge of the tub, watching Zeal like he was the final act of a show that hadn't quite finished yet. "...Yeah. Sure. Why not," he finally said, voice a little hoarse, but satisfied.
With a wet shlick, the tentacles finally began to retract. Zeal arched slightly, mouth falling open as the slow withdrawal sent another wave of overstimulation through his already tender body. A soft moan escaped him as the last inch slipped free with an audible squelch.
Then came the emptiness. Zeal’s cunt fluttered helplessly around nothing, leaking thickly with each subtle shift of his hips. He didn’t even realize how much Wilson had pumped into him until now, his legs trembling as the cum spilled out and mixed with the bathwater, cloudy trails swirling around them.
Wilson stood and offered his hand, his movements suddenly tender in contrast to the roughness just moments ago. Zeal took it, letting himself be pulled upright, though his legs buckled slightly as he stood. Wilson steadied him with a quiet chuckle, one arm wrapped securely around his waist.
"Careful," he said, the amusement in his voice clear. "Didn't think you'd end up like jelly, huh?"
Zeal ignored the teasing, looking down at his own stomach, pressing gently against the spot where the bulge had been. His skin was still sensitive, and he hissed through his teeth before mumbling under his breath, “What a beast.”
Wilson outright laughed at that, the sound rich and unguarded. "You say that like you didn’t beg for more three times."
“I wasn't counting,” Zeal grumbled, cheeks hot.
“Sure,” Wilson teased, brushing a thumb along Zeal’s flushed cheek. “Next time, I’ll bring five.”
Zeal just glared weakly, and finally chuckled with an adoring smiled. “…How I hate you, Wilson.”
“Are you sure? Feel like something exchange here, I thought I’m doing the hating.”
“…Yeah,” Zeal sighed, half collapsing into Wilson’s chest, “I don’t actually hating.” He laughed softly.
…
After a quick rinse under the shower and a thorough clean-up of the bathroom, courtesy of Wilson, of course, considering he’d absolutely wrecked Zeal in the tub, peace slowly settled over the apartment. Zeal hadn’t even lifted a finger. Wilson healed fast anyway, thanks to his own freaky monster physiology, and it was only fair he handled the mess.
Wrapped in a fluffy towel, Zeal leaned lazily against the kitchen counter, sipping water with slow, thoughtful gulps. His body still ached in places, but the soreness was dull and warm, almost comforting. His legs weren’t trembling anymore, but he had no plans to move much either.
Then Wilson emerged from the bedroom, now in shorts and a loose shirt that clung to his still-damp skin. A towel hung over his head, one hand tousling his hair dry as he walked barefoot into the room, casual as ever.
Zeal’s eyes followed him for a moment, admiring quietly before chuckling under his breath.
“Are we finally going to have that talk?” Zeal hummed in amusement, tossing a chilled water bottle at him. Wilson caught it with ease.
“It’s not even that serious,” Wilson grumbled as he opened the cap. “What if I just wanted to fuck you?”
Zeal paused mid-sip, staring at him flatly. “Wilson. Do you hear yourself right now?”
Wilson blinked. “Oh my god—yeah! Was that weird?! Why everyone kept saying that?”
“Yes?! You never talk like that unless you're trying to deflect!”
They both sat on the couch, Wilson with a dramatic sigh as he slumped beside Zeal, towel still hanging off the back of his head.
“Fine, fine. You got me.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was just trying to take the lead. I feel embarrassed to admit it.”
Zeal snorted and leaned closer, nudging him with his elbow. “See?! I knew I was right. You missed me so bad, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“You so did.”
Wilson rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth tugged up just a bit.
“…I mean, usually you’re the one doing all the pleasing,” Wilson muttered, eyes looking anywhere but at Zeal. “So I decided… I wanted to make you feel good. Like, really good. Without letting you say anything. ‘Cause if you said one word, I’d listen and stop. And I didn’t want to stop.”
Zeal blinked at him, surprised by the quiet honesty in his tone. He peeked over at Wilson, who looked like he regretted saying anything, and chuckled softly.
“…Ah. I see now. So that’s the reason you fucked me in every hole like you had a checklist to finish,” he said with a grin. “Crazy. I really thought it was your mating season or something, with how horny you got all of a sudden.”
“IT’S NOT MATING SEASON!” Wilson blurted, face flushing red.
Zeal burst out laughing. “Well how would I know?! You’re the mysterious monster hybrid, and I’m just your poor human lover, clinging to life.”
“You’re not even human,” Wilson muttered, pouting now. “You’re a brat.”
“Brat you love,” Zeal teased, leaning in to kiss his cheek quickly. “Don’t worry. I get it now. You wanted to take care of me.”
“…Shut up.”
Zeal beamed. “Aw, Willyyy, that’s adorable. Next time, just say you missed me. Or, y’know, destroy me again. That works too.”
Wilson groaned and covered his face with the towel. “I hate you.”
“Whatever you say,” Zeal sang, smug as ever, curling up beside him. “You’re obsessed with me.”
“…Maybe.”
Zeal chuckled as he stretched out fully along the couch, sighing contentedly before tugging Wilson down with him.
“Oof!” Wilson squeaked, landing with a soft thump on top of Zeal’s chest. The weight wasn’t heavy, Wilson was shorter, a little more compact, and right now he looked downright cute resting there, his towel slipping off his head to reveal tousled, still-damp hair.
Zeal smiled, lifting a hand to gently rake through it, brushing the strands back from Wilson’s forehead. He leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to his cheek, lingering just enough to make Wilson twitch slightly.
“I like being in service,” Zeal murmured, his voice a low, affectionate hum against Wilson’s skin. “And I did say so before. But… thank you for thinking of me, Wilson.”
That did it, Wilson went red to the tips of his ears. His face crumpled into a scowl, but it wasn’t convincing. “Shut up… Everyone normal would do such a thing.”
Zeal let out a soft laugh, his arms coming around Wilson’s back as he held him closer. “Not everyone would be so bold like you, though,” he teased, nuzzling into Wilson’s temple. “You really went all in.”
Wilson grumbled something incomprehensible under his breath, trying to hide his face in Zeal’s chest. Zeal just chuckled and hugged him tighter, completely unbothered.
“We should rest.”
“You should rest,” Wilson corrected, voice muffled. “I just rearranged your guts.”
Zeal barked out a laugh, wincing only slightly from the reminder. “So proud! But now I’m curious, if that wasn’t mating season, then I dread to imagine how you’d wreck me when it really is.”
“I SAID IT’S NOT MATING SEASON!” Wilson shrieked, muffled by Zeal’s chest, his legs kicking lightly like an offended cat.
Zeal’s laughter filled the room, echoing warmly off the apartment walls. He didn’t stop, not even when Wilson tried to flail dramatically and roll away, he just tightened his grip and kept laughing, the sound rich and alive. Eventually, Wilson gave up and settled again, grumbling half-heartedly as he buried his face into Zeal’s collarbone, hiding his still-burning cheeks.
Outside, the evening light was beginning to fade into soft orange, casting a warm glow over the room. Their limbs tangled, breaths slowly syncing, the silence between them no longer heavy, but filled with quiet comfort. It was chaotic. It was ridiculous. It was warm.
It really was… a nice day.