Still Waters Come Deep: An erotic M/M tentacle sex story

by Drake Penn

  Quaint.

  If Gareth Kingfisher had to–gently–describe the town of Callisto, South Carolina, that’s the word he’d use. Runner ups would include “mind-numbing” and “old as balls”, with a good dash of “thinks of the civil rights movements as gentle suggestions”.

  He'd been surprised enough when his parents relocated out here, and he'd never expected to follow them, but then his father was caught in a car accident that took the use of his legs from him. Gareth dropped everything to help, even if that meant moving his 24 year old self to a town with a median age of 50. He was tall and broad, tanned skin over muscle that came to him easily despite his spotty gym attendance rate, and he had a deep and warm voice that made him popular on the phone. His hair was dark and kept in a messy undercut that he maintained himself with a cheap set of clippers, little patches at the back standing longer where he missed them, and his face had a number of holes punched in it from silver piercings; a snakebite on his lips just over the scruff on his chin, a barbel through his eyebrow over his chestnut colored eyes, and studs bracketing his ears.

  Back home he'd made a living working as an artist in a tattoo parlor–a fact that he was inordinately proud of, as were his parents–and he was no slouch at piercing. Unfortunately for him there was barely enough demand here to support the pop up piercing kiosk in the local mall, let alone a full tattoo parlor, but that was okay, he'd just be here for a few months, just long enough to get his folks settled into the new normal. He had the savings to float that, even if every local establishment he applied took one look at his tattoo sleeves and pierced face and clutched their pearls.

  Well, almost every local. The old men at the docks just down the road didn't mind, half of them retired sailors with ink of their own, and they were more than happy to take him along when they went fishing. There's a rocky reef not too far off the shore that they habitually cast their lines at, and Thomston, a weathered and knobbled old man, gifts him a wet suit, snorkel, and speargun.

  "It's not like I'm gettin' any use out of it anymore." He shrugs. "Just be careful down there, I always felt there were worse’n the sharks roamin’ about."

  Free diving is a blast, even at the shallow depths he can reach. There's flounder out the wazoo and even just poking around the hollows of the reef that the small fry dart around is entertaining enough, not to mention a terrific workout.

  Today the water is calm and clear, good visibility and an abundance of fish. He tags a good sized fish with a shot he's sure was going to miss and pulls it in with an enthusiastic whoop of bubbles. He'll keep this one for his own dinner, and any additional ones will go to the men on the boat. Gareth catches a flash of something dark out of the corner of his eye, and whips his head to the right; there's something in a deep crevice of the reef, two points of reflected light peering at him from the darkness and a ring of tentacles that withdraw quickly. Whatever the thing is, it makes a noise that rumbles in his chest like the thrumming of the bass out of an amp, and the local fish dart away into the opaque distance. The two eyes vanish deeper into the crevice.

  "What the shit was that??"

  Gareth kicks back to the surface and throws his flounder into the hold and rests on the ladder off the side of the boat.

  "Are there fucking giant squid here? Or octopus??"

  "You stayin' under too long? There's nothin' like that down there." Harv barks out a laugh.

  "I seen a lil octopus 'bout five years back." Louie offers.

  "Nah this was big. Like real big." Gareth frowns. "I'm taking another look."

  He dives back down but the visibility has taken a turn and three more dives turn up nothing but silty water, not even a shiner. Reluctantly, he's forced to call it a day and heads back to the boat to climb aboard, sighing into his hands.

  "There's something out there man."

  Harv shrugs and pulls in his line. "The ocean's a big place Gareth. Maybe it's a sea monster."

  "I'm not fucking around!"

  "Just don't get your stupid ass eaten down there."

  ***

  Gareth can't stop thinking about it. What the hell was that thing? Is he going crazy??

  It's 1 in the morning, and he can't sleep, so he does the only thing he can think of. He sneaks out of his parent's house and walks the sandy path down to the docks, puts on his gear, and unfastens the boat. Freediving without a buddy, even with people in the boat watching, is already a bad idea. This is a wildly stupid idea, and definitely illegal.

  Not that that's stopped him before.

  It takes a while to find his way to the reef in the dark but he manages it, eschewing his speargun in favor of a strong, waterproof flashlight and diving in. It takes two dives before Gareth finds the opening in the reef that he's looking for. He takes a deep breath. He kicks down smoothly and peers into the crevice that's only illuminated by the cone of light, craggy rocks casting arcane shadows. It's easily big enough to enter and he does so slowly, feeling along the wall with one hand.

  Something wraps around his waist and rips him forward, deeper into the darkness. He fumbles his flashlight and he feels something strong pulling at him, tearing pieces from his wetsuit and prying off his mask. There's suckers feeling against his face and working down the opening at his neck, Gareth thrashes and rips at them but the creature responds by wrapping a new set of tentacles around his arms.

  "This is it. I'm going to die here."

  A glow overtakes the darkness, lines and dots of light that shift. It's just enough to make out the outline of something like a humanoid torso sprouting from a writhing mess of tentacles. The creature brings its face in close to his and opens a mouth full of serrated teeth as Gareth's vision goes dark around the edges. It makes that same noise as before but directly into him this time and it's overwhelming, his whole body vibrating under it. He screams back, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth and he slips away into unconsciousness.

  ***

  There's water dripping on him when he wakes up and coughs up his lungs.

  It's warm–warmer than it should be–and dimly lit by a yellow-green phosphorescent glow strewn about the cavern.

  Gareth pats himself down and finds everything in working order, even if his wetsuit is shredded and he's missing a flipper and his snorkel. His eyes slowly adjust and he can make out the features of the cave he's sitting in. Water laps gently at his feet and he shifts to sitting up.

  He spots those burning eyes lying just at the surface of the water.

  "What the fuck are you?" He finches backwards away from the water's edge.

  The creature swims forward and rises, making that deep rumbling sound and raising the spined fins along its arms and back. His–Gareth decides arbitrarily–face is a deep blue with orange patterns dotting across the interlocking planes and trailing across the creatures broad shoulders. From his chin to his stomach is light like a shark and edged by massive slits along his ribs; they flutter open and reveal deep red gill filaments. His arms darken as they go, ending in webbed hands that are nearly black and tipped with wicked looking claws.

  "Are you the world's most fucked up mermaid or what?" Gareth laughs, shrill with hysteria.

  The creature cocks his head, a curious intelligence behind his black eyes. He's at the shore now, his dark tentacles encroaching like an oil spill.

  Gareth's back hits the cave wall. He looks around desperately for an exit, a weapon, anything at all that could prevent him from getting torn apart by this little mermaid reject, and comes up empty. One wet tentacle wraps around his ankle and tugs, skidding him across the smooth slate and into the shallow water like a master pulling t
he leash of a disobedient dog. He flails his arms and gets pinned by two webbed hands–inhumanly strong–and the tentacles take their time prodding into all the holes of his wrecked wetsuit. The pale suckers work against his flesh methodically, pulling almost hard enough to hurt in undulating waves.

  The creature makes that noise again, flecks of salty water bouncing out of his gills and off his body like a crocodile, and it vibrates him thoroughly. Gareth groans back, straining against the creature uselessly.

  "Hurry up and kill me already, asshole." He snarls.

  The creature speeds up on top of him, his tentacles pushing further up his suit and splitting it open. He opens his jaws slightly to reveal sparkling white rows of pointed teeth. One tentacle presses up against his balls and he jerks in the iron like grip with a gasp. There's a moment of silence and stillness. The creature releases one of his arms and grabs hold of Gareth's face, twisting it from side to side and hooking a clawed thumb into his cheek to pull it back and examine his teeth.

  "He's… curious?"

  The last vestiges of his wetsuit give way and the mass of inky tentacles waste no time in examining every inch of him. The suckers tug on his ribs like countless hickeys and a wet tentacle wriggles against his ass gently. Even with an arm free there's little grip to be had in the slick skin and even less leverage.

  "H-Hey there big guy–"

  The creature squeezes tighter around the trunk of his chest excitedly. The slender ends of his tentacles coil around whatever they can reach; his fingers, his cock, the shell of his ear. And then he rumbles back, pressing firmly against Gareth's chest.

  It's embarrassing to admit the sensations have him at half mast already.

  "What the fuck…" He groans and feels the creature encircle his hardening cock. The tentacle at his ass presses in shallowly, then more boldly, delving deeper with every curse and groan that escapes his lips.

  This creature wants to mate with him, Gareth realizes half deliriously.

  He flattens a hand against Gareth's throat and smudges at his lips with agitation until Gareth groans again and the creature shudders against him.

  "You... like my voice? Or at least–hah–the vibrations." Gareth pants, and gets an answer by way of a crushing grip on his cock stroking up and down and the tentacle in his ass reaching depths he didn't know were physically possible, the creature letting out a deep rumble as he does. It feels overwhelmingly good, despite the strangeness of the situation, and he lets himself go slack. The creature takes full advantage of this and a second tentacle begins working into his ass. He watches Gareth intently, speeding up or slowing down with each change in pitch or expression, coaxing out louder moans that echo around the cavern.

  Louder and deeper drives the creature crazy, higher and pained steers him to change what he's doing. It's communication with an entirely separate form of intelligent life, albeit an extremely rudimentary form, but Gareth still feels oddly proud.

  He's doing his part for the advancement of science. By getting his ass fucked by tentacles.

  One of the tentacles encircles his throat like a choker, squeezing lightly and pulling at his skin with the suckers. It almost feels like kisses. The tip of it circles further up and presses against his lips. Gareth opens his mouth invitingly–for science–and the tentacle slides in quickly. It tastes salty, which isn't surprising in the slightest, and bullies his tongue with the strength of the compact muscle within it. The creature watches him with fascination and pushes his tentacle down Gareth's throat; Gareth groans around it, long and low, and the creature rumbles back with almost deafening volume.

  He's not going to last long like this.

  Gareth bucks his hips into the slick pressure of the tentacle wrapping his cock and bounces against the mantle connecting them together underneath the creature. The creature shifts above Gareth, repositioning until the core of him is hovering above Gareth's cock, and slams down with a wet slap.

  He chokes out a moan around the tentacle exploring the depths of his throat and sends up a silent prayer of thanks for not having a gag reflex. It's hot and tight inside the creature, rhythmic pulses of muscle wringing his cock while the tentacle loops around his balls. The creature lets him thrust into him freely and lets out encouraging rumbles each time Gareth bottoms out. The pressure inside him builds until he can't hold back anymore and cums deep inside the creature with a throaty cry.

  Mercifully, the creature stills, and slowly extracts himself and slides off his softening cock. Gareth pants and trembles under him, his tan skin wet with salty water. The creature smooths his webbed hand against Gareth's chest and cautiously explores him once more. Gareth takes the opportunity to sit up and do the same, slowly feeling along the scales lining the shoulders of the creature and trailing down to the delicate gills that flutter under his fingers. He's huge, broader shouldered than Gareth and strikingly angular, sharp planes that meet and slide against each other like armor.

  "I wonder if anyone else knows about you," Gareth muses to himself, "maybe you're some kinda government experiment or some shit..."

  The creature cocks his head and pinches at Gareth's cheek gently before tentatively patting at his messy hair.

  "You probably don't have a name, huh…" He takes one hand into his own and splays their fingers out together, measuring the difference. Gareth's are thicker than the slender digits and shorter by a third; even the creature's palm eclipses his fully. "I ain't gonna call you 'octo-man' or some dumb shit like that. Hell, you might not even be a man. Whatever you are might not even have a 'man'. So, gender neutral names, uhh… Taylor? That's as inoffensive of a name as you can get. That sound good?"

  The creature's nictitating membrane flicks across his eyes. He pulls on a clump of hair and Gareth yelps.

  "Okay no I didn't like that one either. Plus I dated a Taylor, and that would be kinda fucked. Or, more fucked, than this already kinda is." Gareth prods at the rim of a suction cup clinging to his thigh. "Fuck it, I'm calling you King. Cause like, you kinda got that whole Atlantis thing going on, and, uhh, I'm Gareth Kingfisher, and I sorta went fishing for you?"

  He gets a blank stare back and a wet thumb across the empty holes of his pierced ear.

  "If you could understand me, you'd think it was a good joke King." Gareth huffs.

  The newly dubbed King makes a sound that Gareth can only feel and it sends a shiver up his spine.

  "As magical as all this shit is, I really gotta go back before my parents call the coast guard and I get busted for spear fishing without a license. And public indecency, probably." Gareth grimaces at the shredded pile of insulated fabric that had been his wetsuit.

  He moves slowly and extricates himself from underneath King's mantle, prodding at the lines of sucker shaped hickeys crossing his body with a giggly laugh. That'll be hard to explain. Maybe he'll stick to long sleeves for a few days.

  King follows closely behind, sinking into the water alongside him as he steps into the mouth of the cavern. He moves slowly in the water, an itchy sting on his skin where the salt hits abrasions, and King darts ahead into the underwater tunnel. Gareth takes a deep breath and follows after into the water, cursing that he doesn't have his mask or his fins while steadily following the glow of King's skin through the icy, pitch black water by pulling against the rocks. It doesn't take long for him to spot his flashlight still shining against the rocky ocean bed and he emerges to the surface. King stays low and hugs the reef, he looks nervous to venture further. The sun is up now and glinting off the surface–he'd guess it's around 5am–and the boat has remained firmly anchored and un-disturbed. Gareth breathes a sigh of relief and kicks back down to the reef.

  He's got no idea how to communicate that he needs to leave, or that he'll be back, but he does his best. King rumbles back and underwater the effect is even more profound. He'll take that as understanding.

  The boat ride back is awkward as Gareth is completely nude and teetering on the brink of exhaustion, but he manages to get the boat docked in
the quiet pier among the maze of disused boats. The neighboring boat is a houseboat that hasn't been touched in the last ten years, and Gareth jumps aboard. It's easy to pry the warped window off the cabin door and open it from the inside, which is adding to his laundry list of illegal activities today, and pulls open the dusty drawers. Porno mags, cigarettes, some horribly desiccated bait, a whole lot of booze, and finally a handful of clothes. The cargo pants ride up above his ankles like capris and strain against his waist and the shirt reads "my wife told me it was either her or fishing. God I'll miss her", but it beats trying to walk home naked. No shoes, but he'll survive.

  Gareth fits the window back into place as best he can and jumps back to the dock, hurrying down to the main road and making the trek back to his parents house.

  ***

  So. That was fucked up. He fucked a sea monster-y thing? And it was honestly pretty great?? He should be way more freaked out by this. He definitely should tell someone important about this, and not be throwing a new set of gear on his credit card when his only income is whatever the old guys make him take in exchange for his surplus catch.