Carlos was spent, at least for the moment, after their exertions with Cecil's tentacle. He'd brought it out of a box in his closet, an excited look on his face as he'd held up the writhing appendage. "There was an outbreak a few years back. The city council got rid of most of them, but allowed citizens to keep a few for personal use."
Carlos hadn't been sure the thing was at all hygienic, but had let Cecil talk him into a few 'experiments', after he'd agreed to narrate the process. The combination of the tendril wriggling inside him, Cecil's honeyed voice, and the slick and steady stroking of his cock had wrung a full body-shaking, toe-curling orgasm out of him. He'd collapsed in Cecil's lap as he'd coaxed the tentacle back out of Carlos's ass, dropping it in its box to get cleaned off later. Cecil's cock stood erect in front of him, and he felt a twinge of guilt.
"You're so... perfect," Cecil gushed, stroking his ass, running one finger lightly over his stretched-out hole. "So beautiful. Oh, Carlos... My Carlos..."
He never knew quite what to say when Cecil was going on like this. One the one hand he just wanted to wrap himself up in the words, the voice that spoke them. On the other hand, it was vaguely unsettling to be placed on a pedestal when he certainly never considered himself such a paragon. It was a little easier to take now that his affection for Cecil had developed into something stronger from the seeds of gratitude, curiousity, and interest he'd finally managed to accept after his near death experience. The relationship had been an experiment at first, but had quickly become something much more solid. Certainly he hoped so, given that he'd just let his boyfriend fuck him up the ass with a tentacle, and given how much he'd enjoyed it.
"'M not perfect," he muttered.
"Nonsense!" Cecil was stroking up his back now, though Carlos could guess his ultimate destination. "I love you and you are, therefore, absolutely perfect. Perfection is in the heart of the beholder." He smiled. "Also, hot, nourishing blood."
"Blood is important," he agreed.
Plenty of Cecil's hot, nourishing blood was swelling quite a different organ at the moment. Carlos reached up with a finger to tease its shaft. Maybe he could muster the energy for a blowjob, though he doubted it would be his best effort. He lifted his head, parting his lips a little. Cecil held him down, pressing him back into his lap.
"Just stay there," he said in his most soothing tone. "Stay there and be beautiful."
Carlos had no problem staying put, for the moment, not when Cecil was combing fingers through his hair and sighing contentedly. He let his eyes flutter shut briefly, but they flickered open again when he felt Cecil's cock twitch. It was even leaking a little – a few drops of precome beading on the head.
"That's beautiful," he said, smiling, nuzzling against Cecil's thigh. "Is there no way I could assist?"
Cecil didn't answer right away, but Carlos felt his grip tighten on his hair.
"Um," he said, shy.
The idea that he could ever put Cecil at a loss for words filled him with a strange pride. "What is it?"
Of course. That Cecil would be embarrassed to ask about that, but not about the tentacle was strangely endearing. 'Welcome to Night Vale,' he thought, not for the first time. "You want to come in it?" he guessed.
"As long as your shower is working..." Last time they'd had post-date sex at Cecil's (so defined so that it could be excluded from the requisite report without getting in trouble with city council or the sheriff's secret police, who were no doubt watching anyway...), the showerhead had sprayed them both with a cloudy purple mist that smelled of turpentine and had left them with strange and similar dreams of someone else's childhood for about a week. Cecil had blamed the neighbours' sloppy ritual practices. Carlos had been disappointed that he hadn’t been able to get a sample to take back to his lab before it dissipated, but glad that the water from the sink had at least seemed safe enough to use.
"Oh, yes, it is," Cecil breathed, taking his cock in one hand, the other still tangled in Carlos' hair. "I'll help you wash it, your p-perfect hair..."
From where he lay, Carlos couldn't see Cecil's face, but watching him jerk himself off was hotter than he had the energy to appreciate currently – he filed the image away for later consideration. Cecil was rough with himself, jerking hard, squeezing his head as he fucked into his hand. The other hand he kept on Carlos's head, petting and stroking his hair, pulling just a little, tugging on his loose wavy locks with thumb and forefinger.
Carlos knew he was terrible at sex-talk – it made him feel nervous, and he tended to default to a more formal, detached, style of speech when he was nervous – but Cecil never seemed at all deterred if he told him things like 'my state of arousal is very extreme' or 'that position significantly increases the attractiveness quotient of your ass'. He wanted to tell him this was good, hot, sexy, that he was ready, wanted to see him come. What actually came out was "I am prepared to receive your ejaculate."
The wording seemed to be good enough for Cecil who, with a few more moaning grunts, shuddered. Thick spurts of come spattered his hair, dripping down, some of it trickling across his face. Cecil let go of his cock, both hands now in Carlos's hair, combing it through, crooning breathlessly about how beautiful, amazing, perfect he was. Feeling a little more energized, Carlos managed to sit up, leaning over for a kiss that Cecil eagerly provided.
"Thank you," Cecil said once they separated again. "That was incredible!"
"Incredible?" Carlos smiled. "If my credibility is being questioned, I think we might need to repeat the process, some time, and see if the results can be replicated." Cecil's spreading blush was adorable, and Carlos felt profoundly content – if a little sticky. "For now," he added, "perhaps that shower?"