#cw tentacles
it means monsterfucking, basically :D cw: tentacle!kink
He is so, so lonely.
He has the fish for company, and when the ripples nip at the shoreline he can feel solid ground, but he yearns for conversation, for a warm touch. This lake is well-hidden in the forested mountain, and as its spirit he cannot leave. He learns from the tree spirits around him what humans are, how they move and speak, and he yearns to see one for himself. But all he can do in this place is meditate, and cultivate, and try to tamp down on the longing that sits like a rough stone in his gut.
And then there is Wei Ying.
Wei Ying appears before him for the first time during spring, when dappled sunshine falls on the forest floor. It is Wei Ying who coaxes him from the lake with a bit of food and gentle words. It is Wei Ying who gives him his name – Lan Zhan, he calls him, and the words in Wei Ying’s voice sound lively and bright. And it is Wei Ying who returns, again and again; who brings him human-made treasures and tells him their names; who teaches him what a smile is, what laughter is; and tells him a million stories that Lan Zhan would never have known of the humans, how they work, what they want and need in their lives, what they do every day. Lan Zhan is fascinated. He’s most fascinated when Wei Ying speaks of emotions, and he wonders if he is able to have them. If he does, then – and Wei Ying has told him stories of it – he thinks he loves Wei Ying.
He loves Wei Ying, and he thinks – he thinks he yearns to touch him.
This human form is illusory; he’s made it to echo the way Wei Ying looks. Haltingly, one day, he says that he’d like to show Wei Ying his true form.
Wei Ying only smiles and says, “Go ahead.”
It would be too much, Lan Zhan thinks, to completely transform. So he decides to transform just below the waist, his human legs morphing into not one but several long, smooth tendrils that taper to soft points at the end.
“You have tentacles,” Wei Ying says, incredulous.
“Tentacles.” Lan Zhan files the word away into his memory – just one of the hundreds of words this man has taught him. Wei Ying’s eyes are wide, and if it weren’t for the hint of a smile on his lips, Lan Zhan would be afraid he’d scare him away.
But Wei Ying puts out a hand and reaches out from the shore. “Can I touch them?” he asks.
A shock of delight goes through Lan Zhan, and he reaches out, meets Wei Ying’s hand with one tentacle.
– the warmth, it’s more than the warmth of sunlight on the lake, it’s intense and alive and so solid –
Lan Zhan gasps and pulls away. But where Wei Ying’s skin suddenly isn’t, there’s nothing but cold, and he immediately wants that heat back. He looks helplessly into Wei Ying’s eyes. “I want to touch you too,” he says. “Is it okay?”
There’s something wonderful in that gaze, in the shine of Wei Ying’s eyes. His smile widens. “It’s okay,” he breathes, and stands stock still, waiting.
He slides a tentacle around Wei Ying’s waist, but what he feels isn’t skin but cloth, and he has no use for cloth. So he lifts it away, and while Wei Ying exclaims in surprise, he doesn’t protest. Without all of that between them, he reaches with ardent tentacles and pulls Wei Ying into the water.
He’s forgotten himself, and his human arms erupt into more tentacles, reaching out to touch Wei Ying’s skin on his hands, his arms, the flat rock of his chest, the smooth wash of his hair. Wei Ying turns into the touch, angling his body toward the grasp of Lan Zhan’s tentacles, unafraid of them or of the water. When one tentacle slithers across his face, Wei Ying purses his lips in what Lan Zhan thinks is called a kiss.
Wei Ying’s hands reach out. Lan Zhan meets them. Wei Ying runs his hands along the length of one slippery tentacle, and it feels like the summer sun, no, warmer than that. Lan Zhan opens his still-human mouth and a groan escapes him. His tentacles undulate in rolling movements, seeking more skin to touch.
This is how he knows how to move, fluid, like water. He keeps moving, keeps twining around Wei Ying’s so-solid, so-human body. One end dips between his lips and – and Wei Ying sucks on it, exquisite pressure and pleasure all at once flaring up inside Lan Zhan’s body, right down to the core of him.
Where else can he find that heat, that pressure? Wei Ying bats the other tentacles away from his face – clearly that’s off limits. But he finds something in the crux of Wei Ying’s thighs, something,harder and hotter than the rest of his body. Greedily, Lan Zhan circles around it, envelops it. Wei Ying makes a hungry noise and arches his back.
The noise fills Lan Zhan’s ears, sets the core of him pulsing and wanting. Gasping, unable to find sufficient breath in the water or in the air, he draws tight circles around Wei Ying’s wrists and ankles, holding him in midair as Lan Zhan keeps eliciting those delicious sounds. His tentacles are all throbbing with warmth, wherever he touches Wei Ying, and when he slides one tentacle up from his thigh and finds a cleft to dive into, Wei Ying lets out not just a noise but a word, a yes.
Lan Zhan goes deeper.
Wei Ying’s face distorts, then relaxes again. Lan Zhan asks carefully, “Have I hurt you?”
Wei Ying grabs one of his tentacles, brings it to his mouth, kisses it ardently. “Keep going,” he says, his grin wide as the world.
His skin is hot, his breaths coming short. Lan Zhan’s consumed by a kind of hunger he’s never felt before. He dips into Wei Ying’s mouth again, caresses wherever he touches skin – between Wei Ying’s legs and in that crevice he’s found at the center of him and against his hands and feet – and it’s more heat than he’s ever felt in his life, more heat than the hottest summer day, and somehow it’s all radiating into the core of him. Lan Zhan finds he’s echoing Wei Ying’s moans. The sounds of the two of them, the wet slide of the tentacles and the gentle lap of the lake beneath them and the wind in the trees – lift Lan Zhan to a place he’s never been, a state of being he’s never known he could attain. The heat in his gut billows like a forest fire and erupts, and he throws his head back and shouts to the skies.
And answering shout – Wei Ying’s, and it goes on and on – echoes his. The pleasure starts to drain from his body, strength going with it. He pulls his human arms back into being and cradles Wei Ying carefully as his body seems to sigh and melt into relaxation. Wei Ying is still smiling. As Lan Zhan gathers him close, he lifts a hand to touch his face.
“That’s more than I expected,” he says, “and everything I wanted.”
Lan Zhan is still not entirely sure what happened, but Wei Ying seems happy, and if Lan Zhan can indeed feel emotions like humans do, he supposes he is happy too.
