The follow-up question of 'can you tell it to let us go' never makes it to Cehd'ra's lips. Instead he chokes on his next breath and cries out, the twisting tentacle inside him kicking up like nothing he's ever felt before. Better than anything he's felt before. His cock twitches, clear pre dripping from the tip and mixing with the creature's slime as the flexible tendril inside misses nothing. "Ahh! He Ming it...its--!"

It's good. Cehd'ra's toes curl and his fingers tremble where they brush against the other's skin. He might come from this. He will come from this if it keeps going.

How Cehd'ra responds seems to influence what the creature tries with He Ming and vice versa. The trickle from the tip of Cehd'ra's cock is sought out on He Ming, the tentacle that had only been squeezing his cock now swirling over the head, polishing and teasing at his slit. The tentacle inside him still seeing how deep it can reach so it's instead joined by another, thinner one. It flicks over He Ming's ring of muscle before working its way inside, twisting and curling, honing in on his prostate as well.