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"...I will. Someday," Fukami promised, without hesitation. "I will find a way to put us out of our misery."
"Restrain yourself," he ordered. "We've only just begun."
As Sal beckoned for his touch in between sharp inhalations, Fukami chuckled behind a gloved hand. He couldn't help himself. Watching the shark tremble and thrust into his touch was mesmerizing. In all honesty, he could watch his ambassador writhe on the floor forever. It was satisfying to watch someone so usually smug and arrogant come undone beneath him.
Despite the big talk, Sal was all the more willing and desperate to let a few of his walls down for the sake of being fucked. Not only that, but Fukami was the only one allowed to thoroughly indulge in Sal's desperation. Anyone else that dared to try would meet a swift death. Their interests aligned and completed one another. Fukami wanted to drag him down; make Sal drown and sink deeper into their selfish bond. No one else would ever be able to take Sal as well as he could. After this, he intended to ensure that no one else would ever get the opportunity.
Sal longed to be ruined and Fukami only wished to destroy. He already looked like such a mess spread out across his carpet; Fukami had not even fucked him yet. How pitiful. There was still so much for him to do before he allowed Sal to cum. Though, Fukami highly doubted the shark would be able to hold off from climaxing until the very end.
One of the tentacles that ripped and tore into Sal's clothes earlier shifted its attention to his neck. It trailed up his chest, before coiling around him completely. Regardless of the strength in Sal's grip on the carpet beneath him, Fukami roughly tugged him by the throat, forcing the shark to sit up from where he was. As Fukami went about this, the octopus did not stop his slow ministrations down below, and neither did he loosen his grip on the shark's throat when Sal finally arose. Instead, the tentacle hugging the shark's neck tightened its squeezing ever-so-slightly; ensuring that the ambassador could not get away.
The other tentacle trailed across Sal's hips, curiously exploring his bare skin. It wasn't long before it was snaking itself around Sal's back. It gradually slithered down his spine, then halted upon reaching the crack of Sal's ass. Despite Sal's pleading, Fukami resisted the urge to enter him. He only rubbed and pressed the tentacle against him, teasing Sal further and coaxing the shark to push back against him.
Fukami silenced Sal from saying anything more. Hands rose up from his lap to tuck strands of light blue hair behind his ears. He leaned down from his desk chair to cup Sal's cheeks with both hands, then kissed him. In comparison to all of the other overwhelming touches Sal's body was being exposed to, Fukami brushing his lips against Sal's was gentle. The kiss was slow and brief, while the use of Fukami's tentacles scattered across Sal's shaking frame rapidly continued to only gain in speed and roughness. Having his way with Sal was so easy.
After moving his head away, Fukami drifted one of his hands from Sal's face to stroke the tips of his cocks. His touch was soft, delicate, and clearly teasing. For the most part, his hand merely hovered over him. There wasn't any rhythm or pattern to this. He wanted to make Sal ache for more, without the slightest hint of an idea as to when Fukami would show him just a bit of mercy. Besides, the tentacle wrapped around Sal's dicks was squeezing and moving up and down his shafts as quickly as possible. He should be grateful.













