Even that little tweak, that pinch, had his nerve-ending prickling, and he twitched against it with a breathless little hitch. Tucker's words resonated against his ear, rich and warm and red and pulsing, and he eased his grip. Or at least shifted it down to curl in at his shoulders, rather than his scalp.

Because that thing, that creature, wasn't stopping. Once the tip was in, it started to slide inward. Tight fit at first, despite his need, and it felt like he could feel every inch of it nudging its way in, deeper and deeper. "Tucker...Tucker..."

His face buried itself against the curve of his throat, soft, messy kisses splayed against every inch of skin he could reach. All the while, that tentacle twisted and squeezed, coiled down so tight around Tucker it might well have felt like thrusting into a slick, willing hole of his very own.