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“No biting.”
Shiver could only growl his frustrations from behind his lacey mask, Frye’s lips barely grazing his own through the fabric as she plants a swift peck there.
The mask was supposed to be cool. He’d thought so, diverging from the masquerade theme slightly to opt for a mouth covering rather than for the eyes like his bandmates. It was supposed to make him intimidating, cold as ice, even.
Now, he regretted it altogether. He feels not unlike a prize put on display- but he supposes it isn’t so bad when the display is reserved for one particular inkling.
Within the haven of Frye’s bedroom, the silence is so palpable he can practically hear the warm lightbulb in the bedside lamp flickering. Shiver’s twitching tentacles send shadows dancing across the postered wall like flames, everything burning around him despite how the two of them are dressed for a wintery festival.
His girlfriend’s nose twitches in vague amusement at his clear annoyance, a pretty smirk making the corner of her lips turn. Her ink is positively ethereal, a morning yellow swirling into icy blue and snowy white. The end of her curls match his own tentacles, though he wouldn’t be surprised if his own ends had started going yellow as well.
The New Year’s Splatfest was this weekend, and they’d just returned from a costume fitting, a few edits still needing to be made to their extravagant outfits- Shiver’s strapless dress had been a bit too loose, and the blue ribbon in Big Man’s hat was apparently a single shade off its intended colour.
The crude hoodie and sweatpants he’d put on in the studio once his dress had been taken back had already been pulled off and thrown to the side by the brazen inkling, but his face was still full of makeup and concealed, of course, by his mask.
“You couldn’t have waited for us to get comfortable before throwing yourself onto me?” Shiver complains, shifting in place.
“Me? Throwing myself onto you?” Frye snorts, eyed widened in mock disbelief, “As if you weren’t eyeing me up the whole time.”
“More like eyeing your buttons sympathetically.” Shiver narrows their eyes, “Seriously, why didn’t you tell the costumers your top was too tight?”
The two of them glance down towards the top in question- the woolly fabric is stretched taught around the size of her chest, buttons pulled just enough to offer a peek at her cleavage- it had been tantalizing earlier, under harsh dressing room lighting all while being subjected to knowing glances, but now Shiver just found it irritating.
“Fits just fine to me- and you sure don’t seem to mind either way.” Frye teases.
She unbuttons the stressed fabric slow and showy as the weight is released, and Shiver would’ve lunged to help her (because, really, was she wrong?) though his wrists had been tied together with his glittering shawl. He would complain about how he’d need to iron it out again later, but any word he could choke out dies on his tongue.
Hands hanging uselessly above his head, he can only watch as she shuffles out of the woolly turtleneck, exposing soft skin and a lacey bra, or a laughable imitation of one- it was barely big enough to hold her chest back from spilling out, solely filling an aesthetic role. Shiver frowns deeper at the sight, despite how his hearts hammer in his chest.
“You-“ he splutters, “You wore that one on purpose.”
Frye only shrugs like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “Well, not like we were gonna do any actual activity today.”
“So you were planning this from the start?”
“Mm, not this exactly,” she toys with the edges of his mask, “But cod, it’s been a while. And you looked so handsome in that outfit...”
Shiver suddenly feels very warm. Frye is watching him so closely, every twitch of his stark white tentacles, before finally settling on the bulge in his boxers. He crosses his legs instinctively, doing his best to ignore how turned on he his, ink rushing to one singular point.
Frye leans over his body to kiss his head, opening his legs as she brushes against the disturbed fabric, and he barely registers the sweet gesture as the embers in his chest spark into frenzied fires.
“C’mon, baby, it’s okay.” she coos into his ear, “Unless you’d rather do something else...?”
She pulls back, and Shiver gets a good look at her- not that he hadn’t been ogling her this whole time. But the way she eyes him with genuine desire, the way her lingerie struggles to hold back her chest, the glow of her face in the warm light of her bedroom... it makes him realize exactly one thing.
“I want this.” he murmurs, tentacles curling, “S-so badly.”
Frye’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. “How badly?”
Fuck, he’d fallen for it.
The look in her eyes hardens to a sharp edge, cornering him right where she wanted him.
“Please.” he whispers.
“Please what?”
She rubs her thumb over his wet spot, toying with the waistband of his boxers, and Shiver thinks he’s ready to explode right then and there.
It’s torture, beautiful torture, the way she leans forward to kiss up his neck. He offers her the pale expanse of skin like a devotee at an altar, and she wastes no time in scraping her fangs along its smoothness. It’s not enough, not even close, so far from sinking those teeth into him as he so desperately desires, but they both have to remain spotless for their upcoming performance.
She rolls her hips into his, and her breath hitches almost imperceptibly- that’s when he breaks.
“Please... do whatever you plan on doing to me. Please, I... I need you.”
It’s barely a whisper, quiet and pathetic, yet Frye hears him loud and clear.
The inkling reaches behind her and unclips her bra, finally freeing her chest from its constraints. The sight makes Shiver lick his lips from behind his cod-forsaken mask, a barrier between him and getting what he wanted- something, anything in his mouth.
Her fingers gleam with gold, and Shiver wishes with all his hearts she’d pull his mouth open and press on his tongue, run those aureate fingertips across his teeth until he choked. All he can do is salivate, starved for her touch and affections.
She licks her own lips as she finally pries off his boxers, his dick springing free and already fully hard. It’s embarrassing, he thinks, how quickly and easily she gets him to this point, but if the way Frye rakes her hungry graze over him is any indication, she more than doesn’t mind it.
She shuffles back a bit further before dropping low, letting his cock lean against her face as she ogles it. Her fingers ghost over it, and Shiver bucks his hips involuntarily.
“Oh, so needy.”
There’s honeyed sympathy in her voice, yet a devious smirk graces her face. The tenticular cock in her grasp twitches, and the inkling holds it still as her ear twitches in amusement.
She’s in no particular hurry, running her thumb carefully against the tip of the tentacle, and Shiver registers the feeling at the very edge of his consciousness- not nearly enough to make him react, but her face alone is enough to make his breath hitch- she doesn’t break eye contact, golden eyes lidded and gleaming with focus.
He barely registers how she rubs softly at the base of his shaft, the octoling too busy admiring her- how she shone like snow in morning sunlight, ears lowered and fangs poking out.
Frye’s eyes narrow when she notices he isn’t reacting at all, clicking her tongue to drag him from his stupor- he flinches to attention as she presses his dick to her face once more, dangerously close to her lips.
“Can I suck you off?”
She says it so casually, it brings a rush of heat to Shiver’s face, the octoling nodding feverishly, all shame abandoned in favour of white-hot desire.
Her bright yellow tongue snakes from her mouth, licking him from bottom to top- he shudders, but doesn’t have a chance to savour the feeling before her lips close around the tip, mindful of her fangs.
She tongues at it, delighting in the way his breathing gets louder and squeaker before she suddenly takes the whole thing at once.
Shiver nearly jumps upright at the feeling of being fully enveloped in warmth, a guttural groan escaping him as his back arches off the bed.
It wasn’t like she’d never gone down on him before, but she surprises him just as much every time she does, unusually long, pointed inkling tongue and impressive lack of a gag reflex always making him see stars. He so badly wants to just grab her head and-
His fingers curl uselessly into open air from where they rest above his head- that wasn’t an option this time.
The lack of anything to dig his fingers into but the skin of his own palms brings the pleasure to the very front of his mind, unable to channel the intensity into anything. He bucks his hips uselessly, feeling the strain in his legs before he gives up on trying, dropping to lay fully flat once more. Frye hums and follows him down, bobbing her head slowly.
She falls into a rhythm, moaning whenever she reaches the base, and Shiver can feel it resonating from deep within his ink.
“Fu-uck...” he feels his tongue go limp, barely able to keep his mouth closed as he babbles incomprehensibly.
Frye separates from him with a pop sound, and the way she looks at him, ears drooping and lips raw with spit, almost pushes him over the edge. She strokes him firmly, hand gliding effortlessly over his shaft as he twitches in her grasp.
“Oh, baby...” Shiver whines, biting their lip behind the mask.
Frye only smiles as she licks up his length once more, tonguing at the tip with vigor, stroking him all the while.
The pressure begins to build, the octoling barely able to stifle his whimpering. Everything comes to a head where her mouth sucks him off, one hand moving to cradle his balls, and all he can do is babble incoherently as he begins to lose control. He pictures it all in vivid detail before it even occurs, the burst of pleasure, the gag of satisfaction as she takes it all in her mouth-
And then she stops.
It takes him a moment to realize she hadn’t just stopped to breathe, and he struggles to pull his head up, forcefully slowing down his breathing as his head rushes like violent whitewater, the pressure slowly dissipating as he sighs mournfully.
When he looks at her, the inkling sits up, dragging a fist over her spit-wet mouth and smacking her lips.
Shiver almost doesn’t dare speak. “You’re... not gonna...”
“What, let you cum in my mouth?”
Frye was nothing if not blunt.
He must have gone an even brighter shade red, because Frye bursts into giggles at the sight of him. He’d be embarrassed, but she was adorable when she laughed, cheeks glowing gold with her new ink colour and nose twitching.
“No, I had something else in mind, actually.” she finally answers, and suddenly all innocent laughter is gone from her face as the fire in her eyes returns.
Shiver swallows.
Frye shuffles back once more, fingers pulling at her own baggy pants before prying them off, her underwear quickly following suit without fanfare. It leaves her entirely naked, and Shiver barely has the time to take in her appearance before she’s upon him again and pressing his cock to her folds.
It hits him like a train, how soaked she is, how he aches for any kind of release- the feeling of her skin on his is heavenly, the way she rubs at his inner thigh sending static shocks to his brain.
“I want you inside,” she whispers, dragging his curled tip over her wetness, “can I...?”
“Oh, yes,” Shiver breathes, barely holding back a cry of pleasure as she moves his tip past her folds.
The inkling steadies herself, and Shiver is too starstruck to move, watching her every action with rapt attention- inch by inch, she pushes him inside, and then takes him all at once.
Her perfect façade of control breaks as she breathes a shuddering sigh of relief. Her thighs quiver at the sudden feeling of fullness, and she takes a moment to collect herself before she starts to move.
It’s slow, but the first roll of her hips is enough to rip a whine from Shiver’s throat, loud and unrestrained- it makes her giggle airily as she continues at a steady pace, just enough to so as to not totally overwhelm him again.
“This okay?” she breathes, leaning down so they’re nose to nose.
Shiver can barely speak, only managing another whine, and Frye stops. The loss of stimulation is enough to make him wince again, meeting her eyes with shameless desperation.
“Answer me, sharky.”
She says it firmly, but there’s no mistaking the genuine concern in her tone. She runs a finger across his cheek, and his hearts seize at how close she is to where he wants her- but this wasn’t the time for that.
“Mhm... yes.” he murmurs, “Don’t stop.”
At his request, Frye picks up where she left off, still getting used to the feeling- she struggles as she experiments with the angle, and Shiver is more than content to let her keep trying if it gives him time to recover. The last thing he wants is to ruin this for her before she’d even begun to enjoy herself.
Something must’ve clicked as she at last picks up the pace, much quicker than before, her bouncing creating a sharp slapping sound with every skin-to-skin contact. She leans her head back, a delighted squeal of satisfaction escaping her, and all Shiver can think about in that moment is how much he wants to bite into her.
Her neck is fully exposed, all that shining skin he loved to kiss and bruise, but he doesn’t possess the strength to lift himself up, not with his hands tied. And with the mask still tied around his face, all he can do is watch.
And it is one hell of a performance.
Frye clearly knows exactly what she’s doing, moaning way louder than she normally does- it isn’t exactly all for show, but she knows just what turns him on, the way she whimpers his name over and over, fondling her own tits as they bounce with every roll of her hips. Shiver can only lean back and take it, take in the sight of her and the feeling of being inside her.
Heat pools in his stomach like magma, and with what little strength he does possess he manages to press his heels into the mattress hard enough to let him roll his own hips up into her, earning a lustful moan for his efforts.
“Fuck, Shivs, you feel so good...” she shudders, eyes cracking open to look at him, “You’re so good, just like that...”
Her gaze is searing, full of fiery lust and need and every intense emotion he so desperately loves about her.
His fingers ball into fists, tingling with the urge to touch her gorgeous body, to run his hands and claws over plush hips and soft breasts, to kiss her all over and worship her like the perfect idol she was. He wants, needs to taste her, the sweetness of her skin and tongue-
He leans back and closes his eyes, lets himself swim in the feeling of pumping in and out of her as he continues to thrust weakly, every effort making her moan. She overwhelms every one of his senses wholly- all he can hear are her gasps, all he can feel is her warmth and wetness, hitting her right where it counts with every slap of skin on skin.
“C-cod, I’m close...”
It tumbles from his mouth without his intent as his core burns with effort. She feels incredible, and he’s fully ready to be taken over the edge, but-
Frye slows down, and Shiver all but keens as she does.
There’s a moment of confusion as Frye collects herself, Shiver only managing a pathetic whine at the loss of stimulation.
“Not yet,” she grunts, leaning forward to run her teeth along his ear, “you can hold on a bit longer for me, right?”
Her voice alone is almost enough to break him, and he concentrates every drop of ink in his body towards keeping it together- anything for her.
“Maybe if you stopped riling me up on purpose...” he groans, all too aware of how she shifts around his dick with every minuscule movement.
“Who, me?”
Frye tears herself off of him, sitting upwards and puffing out her chest. She tweaks at her own hard nipple, hand running over the plush curve of her hip, and Shiver frowns so deeply he feels his head throb in pain. That rips a laugh out of her, and the octoling winces as she clenches around his length.
“You wanna touch me so bad, don’tcha?” she teases, stretching her arms upwards and putting herself on display.
“Yes, if that wasn’t already impossibly obvious.”
“Too bad- ya didn’t shave your claws.”
There are a thousand curses he could mutter stewing beneath his tongue- it’s true, he hadn’t, but he was going to. He would have to if he planned on wearing those long silky gloves with his attire, but the designer was only getting them to him tomorrow and-
“If you had just been a little more patient-”
“You’re all claws and teeth when you start to lose yourself,” Frye cuts him off, sticking out her tongue, “sorry, but I don’t feel like glowing golden with bites and scratches under all that fluorescent stage lighting.”
Shiver bucks his hip in protest, and to his delight, Frye yelps- it’s the loudest sound she’s made all evening, a genuine gasp of surprise as he hits her in just the right spot.
“Oh, that felt good?” he crows, tentacles curling in amusement.
When Frye regains her composure, she dips her fingers into the skin of his waist and shoots him a glare so torrid he feels his ink boil from the proximity alone.
“I think you’re forgetting who’s in control here.” she all but snarls.
“Why don’t you remind me, then?”
All the confidence and raw desire in the world isn’t enough to keep the tremble of anticipation out of his quiet voice. And yet, the inkling doesn’t need to be told twice.
Frye rides his dick with such vigor that his back arches back up off the mattress, so intimately aware of every moment he hilts inside her that he could cry. Frye makes no effort to keep cool, growling openly with every mind-numbing drag of his cock against her walls.
Neither can even focus on the other, Shiver abandoning his view of his gorgeous girlfriend slowly coming apart in favour of shutting his eyes and screaming his throat hoarse. There’s no reason to keep up a façade of cool headedness, not when Frye isn’t looking at him either, entirely consumed with the need to drop down on him at just the right angle.
The buildup is much quicker this time, Shiver’s cock so heavy with pressure from everything she’d done to him that he was ready to let go, Frye equally wound up from having simply watched him all this time. She was making no effort to stop, not this time, intent on careening over the edge alongside him.
Frye grabs just above his waist to keep herself steady, sharp smacks filling the air as they both rapidly approach their peaks, Shiver turning his face into the pillow and biting his lip so hard he swears he tastes blood.
With one final thrust he comes apart, vision going white, wailing as he spills ropes inside her- it’s enough for Frye as well, who finishes much quieter yet just as intensely as she screws her eyes shut and hums, legs shaking as she rides him desperately, chasing the feeling of her orgasm.
Finally, her body crumbles into him, twitching as she buries her face in his neck and whimpers, bucking her hips until she slowly grinds to a halt.
They lay there together as their orgasms subside, exhaustion pooling over them like waves, every limb as heavy as stone. The octoling struggles for air, enveloped in Frye’s softness yet fully caged by her as he twitches inside her. After more than a minute, he goes fully still, groaning in mild discomfort as his dick goes limp.
It signals the inkling to move, and despite her clear reluctance, she complies. Frye sluggishly removes herself from his lap, fluid leaking from her as Shiver’s cock pulls out of her. He’s equally coated with it, cum pooling at the base of his shaft, and he can only wince in embarrassment as it falls wet and limp, curling into itself.
“Sorry...” he says without even thinking, the intrinsic urge to apologize spilling out of him in his haze.
Frye wordlessly cuddles up to his side and peppers his face with kisses in response, before pulling down his mask and joining their lips together.
It’s slow and sloppy, but extraordinarily gentle, full of all the love they held for each other and so much more. Frye was always as sweet as she was intense in moments like these, holding him like he was her whole universe, Shiver wanting nothing more than to give it all back to her.
When they separate, they remain quiet, Frye resting her head on his shoulder. Somewhere along the way, Shiver’s hands are released from their delicate constraints, and the shawl flutters to the ground alongside his mask.
With great effort, Shiver turns onto his side, head atop her own, rubbing comforting circles on her smooth back, relishing in the feeling of finally getting to touch her. Frye purrs into his neck in response, and the sound makes Shiver sigh contently.
As always, the inkling breaks the silence first.
“After the Splatfest...” she begins, blunt fingertips running across his stomach, “I’ll let you rough me up as much as you’d like.”
Too tired for the motion to affect him, yet intrigued by her words, Shiver’s ear twitches. “Really?”
“Mhm. I love it when you do, you know. Makes me feel so... I don’t know. Desired?” her next words are muffled into the crook of his neck, “I know that sounds kinda stupid.”
“It doesn’t. You... you are.” Shiver whispers back, with all the sincerity of the universe, “Desired, I mean. I love you.”
“I know. Love you too.” she giggles before her hips shift, “We should get cleaned up.”
Shiver only forces his eyes shut tighter, holding her in place in protest. “Few more minutes.”
“Your makeup’s all smeared.”
Shiver tears himself off of her with wide eyes, sitting upright and pressing a few fingers to where he could feel the wetness of sweat on his face. When he examines his fingertips, he hisses at the sight of smudged, pale blue makeup.
“Cod damn it, I didn’t use the setting spray...”
There are faint smudges of it on his pillow as well, but the inkling simply turns it over to its clean side.
“To be fair,” Frye sits up in turn, “it wasn’t like you were expecting us to end up like this.”
She pulls him close by the waist and kisses lazily up his neck, but the octoling is too mortified to properly enjoy it as he continues to prod at his face.
“I must look ridiculous right now.” he whines, perhaps a tad dramatic, but the thought of looking that debauched-
“Nah. You’re always pretty.” Frye murmurs, as simply as ever.
Shiver frowns. “I think you might be biased.”
Frye ignores him, grunting as she pulls away and heaves herself off the bed to stand facing him, eyes lidded.
“C’mon, hop in the shower with me.” she beckons, “I can feel you dripping down my thighs.”
Shiver forces himself not to glance down there.
“Ugh. You do not need to say it like that.” he grimaces as he hops off the bed as well, following the inkling into the bathroom just across the hallway. The apartment was theirs alone- a few seconds naked in the open didn’t matter.
When he enters, his eyes take a few moments to adjust to the sudden brightness. When the haze clears, he sees Frye is examining herself in the mirror, leaning over the counter, and Shiver thinks he’s never admired anything as beautiful. He steps forward, hands finding their place on her hips as he presses his mouth to the back of her neck and-
A strong hand grabs at his face, and he catches Frye’s pinched yet amused expression in the mirror as she harshly reminds him,
“No biting.”