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“And with that, listeners, I leave you with the hope of a new day dawning, and the smell of gunpowder in the air. Springtime is here, and it’s looking like the death toll is going to be surprisingly low! Good night, Night Vale. Good night.” With that, he pressed the off button on his microphone and watched the soft glow of the “On air” sign cut out. Another day on the radio. He stretched, wincing at the crick in his neck. God, he had to really work on some way to get out this tension at the end of the week. Maybe he needed to pick up Peruvian yoga again, or work on hand-to-hand combat, or…something else, maybe. Maybe some…different kind of cardio, with Carlos, up against the wall or on the kitchen counter or-
“Mr. Palmer?” An intern touched his elbow, jerking him out of his daydreams.
“What? No! I mean, yes, fine. What?”
“The, um, broadcast is over. Is everything alright?”
“Yes, Rita, of course. I’m just…collecting my thoughts, is all.” He gathered his notes and tucked them in his bag, not really in a hurry to get to his empty house and empty bed. As much as he fantasized about “tension relief” with Carlos, it was only going to be that. A fantasy. The other man didn’t even know he existed, much less thought about him like that. “Not calling for personal reasons,” of course. Why would he be.
The sun was brighter than he expected as he left the station. It was supposed to be near setting by now, but instead it was stubbornly hanging overhead. Jealous of the moon again? Tsk, Cecil had thought it was better than that. As he turned to walk towards his car, he couldn’t help but notice something glinting near the ground. A flower, spindly, delicate, and silver.
That was strange. Flowers usually didn’t grow out in the desert, especially not flowers like that. And he’d never seen one like that before. It looked…not natural. Which meant that, as with most things, it was probably a good idea to pretend he’d never seen it and try to forget all about it. But it was so lovely and unusual, and what if he brought it to Carlos? He could call him, talk about the science behind this weird flower, and Carlos would maybe finally notice him. Perhaps the way to Carlos’ heart was through science! Maybe he’d be so impressed by Cecil’s find that he’d take him to dinner to thank him. Or he could thank him in other ways, with less clothes and hands burning hot against his skin, and Cecil would be very ok with that too.
“Right, then.” He pushed up his sleeves, crouching down to examine the flower. It looked frail enough that a slight tug would break the stem easily. No thorns, no oozing, no teeth. No problem. He reached out and grasped the base of the stem.
Which, of course, is when things got weird.
The plant curled in on itself as he watched, petals almost forming a pod. “What the-” Suddenly, they unfurled all at once, shooting up a flurry of power that sparkled in the air around him and smelled like chlorine when it got up in his nose. He fell back with a squeal, rubbing at his face even as his sinuses burned. Defense mechanism. Clever plant. Cecil gave it the meanest glare he could muster, eyes watering. “I’m going to tell Carlos’ team about you. They’ll come and yank you out by the roots, you little jerk.”
He shuffled away towards his car, still trying to cough the powder out of his lungs. By the time he got to his car it had stopped hurting so much, but the maddening tingle still remained in his respiratory system. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he flipped open his camera phone to check for irritation and made a strangled noise. “Why the hell does a plant excrete freaking burning glitter? What- why- augh.” He slumped forward on the seat, head falling against the steering wheel. A sharp blast of the horn let him know he’d hit the wrong part and also made him jump and smack his knee against the underside of the dashboard. Fucking hell. This is what he got for trying to get anywhere with Carlos. He was going to go home, shower off all this glitter-pollen, and sleep for about a year. Oh, and never try to woo anyone ever again, because it apparently led to disaster.
The tingle spread from his sinuses to his limbs as he drove. It was kind of like when an arm or leg fell asleep and turned to a fuzzy blob of static, except his appendages were still solid and the feeling was hotter. He squirmed as it crept down his legs and up his neck, making him feel flushed. Maybe he was allergic? His skin prickled, a million tiny pokes with an invisible needle.
By the time he got home, he was ready to tear his hair out. His skin felt too tight, and he was hyperaware of everywhere his clothes were touching his body. He needed…he didn’t know, anymore. A cold shower, maybe, try and wash the powder off himself, because if he was allergic, it was probably making it worse. And he was so hot all of the sudden, and wanted nothing more than cool water pouring over his body…all over his body…
Woah! Cecil shook his head, trying to clear it. Out of nowhere, a piece of paper fluttered down and hit him in the face. “What?” He lifted it off and glanced down at his feet, finding a torn-open envelope. The Faceless Old Woman who Secretly Lived In His Home must have been opening his mail again. He’d have to have a talk with her later. He set it down on the table, walking towards the bathroom, only to be rudely smacked in the back of the head with the envelope. “Ow! Would you not-?”
Scowling, he picked up the letter. It was hard to concentrate enough to read, with the way the heat was beginning stifle him. “The City Council has an urgent announcement…yadda yadda yadda…new vegetation…pollen is…seems to act as an aphrodisiac?” He lowered the paper, blinking dumbly. Suddenly he became aware of a persistent ache between his legs, and he gulped. Oh. Well. “Victims of the pollen are easily identified because they glitter like a disco ball- oh, wonderful, that’s not going away, apparently- and the effects cannot be negated by solo activity, if you get what we mean?” While he’d been reading, his hand had slipped down almost automatically to palm at his arousal, and the sweet pressure made him gasp. Wow, okay, he was more sensitive than normal.
Jerking his hand away, he tried to return his attention to the letter. “It seems that the symptoms can only be gotten rid of through pair activity (don’t ask us why, we don’t know) or by waiting it out. So if you’ve been in contact with the pollen either find a partner or prepare for a long uncomfortable night. Sorry.”
He groaned, falling back into a chair. So he had picked the wrong day to piss off a plant and had ended up horny beyond all reason and couldn’t even take care of it himself. Even though he knew it wouldn’t help, he pressed his hand against his crotch. Oh, god. He just needed it so bad. He whined, unzipping his pants and finally taking himself blessedly in hand. Ooh, yes, it was so good. It was like every part of him was electrified, little sparks spreading at his touch. He felt himself getting closer and closer, arching off the chair and panting, hand moving over his length. Oh- so close- come on- yes- just-
With a frustrated cry, he pulled his hand out of his pants and stood up, pacing furiously. He couldn’t come. He should have known. The letter had said as much- “solo activity” wouldn’t work. Oh, but he needed it, needed anything. He could- he could call Earl Harlan! It had been a long time since they’d broken up, but he was sure the scoutmaster would come if he asked nicely enough. All he needed to do was dial the number, still memorized, and-
He actually shrieked, flinging his phone down. No! What was he doing? Calling an ex-boyfriend and begging for sex? He was above that! Besides, Earl had been a clean break, and he knew that calling him would bring back all sorts of old emotions and unpleasantness.
But he really wished that someone could be there with him. What if he…called Carlos? Would Carlos come to him, kiss him, lay him down on the bed? He’d probably slip that labcoat off his shoulders while Cecil waited for him, on his back so that he could see Carlos’ beautiful face during. Ooh, Carlos would be so scientific about it, cataloguing every sensitive place that Cecil had, finding all the things that made him moan. Cecil whined softly, leaning against the doorframe and pressing his hips to it unconsciously. Would Carlos want to be inside him, or would he want Cecil? Both options were exquisite: Carlos’ tight heat surrounding him, maybe as the other man rode him, or Carlos’ length hot and hard as he thrust into Cecil.
With a start, Cecil realized he was rubbing against the doorframe in a desperate attempt for release. His tentacles had emerged sometime while he was in a daze, and he hadn’t even felt them. This was agony. He couldn’t call Carlos, that was absolutely out of the question. He couldn’t call anyone, actually. So it looked like he was forced to take the second option- wait it out. But this was driving him crazy, and getting worse with every passing minute. What if it lasted all night?
He had to fall asleep, that was all. Fall asleep before he got any needier and desperate. Right. Then wake up, and go to Carlos’ lab- Oh, maybe don’t think about Carlos right now- and get them to exterminate every damn one of those flowers.
With shaky legs, he managed to get to his bedroom, barely resisting the urge to touch himself. Wouldn’t do any good, right? Just get him even more worked up, and then he was bound to do something stupid like call Carlos. He’d just get changed out of his work clothes, and go to sleep. He could do this.
Cecil’s tentacles curled anxiously at his sides, probably from his own agitation. One gently petted his thigh and he batted it away. He couldn’t take any touch right now, not even his own. He was over sensitized and everything seemed to go right to his dick, which was beginning to hurt from constant arousal with no relief. The tie came off easily enough, but as he was unbuttoning his vest another wave of want crashed over him and he pitched forward, leaning hard on the dresser and breathing deeply through his nose, teeth gritted against the feeling.
Another tentacle curled around his arm and once again he swatted at it. Normally he had better control over his limbs, but he was a little…distracted. Usually when he wasn’t actively monitoring them, they acted semi-independently, like a cat’s tail. They’d just sort of hover there, or swish around, depending on his emotional state. And yes, occasionally grab things.
He pulled off his vest and started on the buttons on his shirt. Almost there, then he could sleep, and then the whole thing could just be written off as a bad dream. He’d just finished with the second button when a tentacle wrapped around his wrist. Making an annoyed noise, he jerked his arm away. Or, well, tried to. Because the tentacle held firm, keeping him where he was. “Hey.” He tried to pull away again, but the tendril only squeezed tighter, and he felt a small fragment of panic pierce the fog of pollen-lust.
He smacked at the tentacle currently holding him, only to jump with surprise when another one grabbed his other wrist, holding it in midair. He strained away, but they didn’t budge. “Hey, stop that!” No response, and he was going to pull something if he kept tugging like that. Clearing his head as much as he could, he put all of his effort into controlling his tentacles, into making them let him go.
They began to move, and he grinned at his victory. But it quickly turned into a frown as he realized that they weren’t loosening their grip on his wrists at all, only pulling them away from his chest, exposing him. “Wait, wait, stop, what are you-”
In one fluid motion, they yanked his hands behind his back, letting go for a split second so that one tentacle could coil around them both, binding his hands together in an ironlike grip.
He struggled then, but came nowhere close to getting free. Okay, this…pollen stuff must have flooded his body more than he knew. And, he realized, he still had his legs! The tentacles were attached to him, after all. He’d just run outside, and the Sheriff’s Secret Police could tranquilize him or something until it was out of his system.
Apparently the few steps he took set the tentacles in motion, and suddenly one was wrapped around his legs, tripping him and making him fall face-first against his bed. The friction against his crotch was wonderful, and he hissed through his teeth, turning over with no small amount of effort. No arms, and now no legs, and he was still horny as fuck.
As if it could hear him, a tentacle squirmed up his legs, ending near his thighs and sliding in and out of the space between his legs. Cecil couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out as it bumped against so many sensitive parts. “Ooh, s-stop that, it’s not gonna…”
His words ended in a gasp as a tentacle slipped into his still-unzipped pants and wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down in a slow, harsh rhythm. “Oh! Oh, gods above, p-please…” He arched against the bed, crying out as the tendril played with the slit at the head of his cock. “No, it’s not gonna help, I c-can’t…”
It kept going faster, and thank god for the lubricants it naturally secreted or it would be rubbing Cecil raw right now. He threw his head back, toes curling, as the heat simmering all of his body burst into a flame, burning him from the inside out, but it wasn’t enough, so close but not enough, and he just couldn’t come, though he ached with the desire to.
The tentacles apparently felt his frustration because they stilled all at once as Cecil panted underneath them. Then they tightened, and suddenly two were curled in Cecil’s shirt, tearing it off of him, buttons flying. He stared, wide-eyed, as the scraps of fabric were flung across the room. Two more maneuvered his pants and boxers off his legs until he was lying bare on his bed.
One returned to its place between his thighs, sliding wetly against his hole and perineum and balls in a way that made him bite his lip, and another went back to his cock, pumping furiously. He cried out, hands scrabbling uselessly at the sheets underneath him, feet kicking mindlessly until a tentacle circled both his legs, bringing them together tightly and making the thrusts that much sweeter.
He turned his head, eyes squeezed shut against the barrage of pleasure. His body didn’t know that this couldn’t be gotten out of his system by himself, only that he was so turned on that it hurt and he needed relief. And apparently, his body had gotten tired of Cecil refusing to do anything, so it was taking over. And if this continued all night…oh. Oh, god.
The tentacle around his legs let go and for a second Cecil thought that they had given up, but then he was flipped roughly on his stomach and the tendril on his arms was coiling higher, holding tighter. One circled around his waist, lifting his hips until he was kneeling on the bed with his ass in the air and two more grabbed each thigh, spreading his legs and oh god he knew what was coming no no no he couldn’t come and touching his cock was bad enough but surely his tentacles weren’t going to give him that much pleasure when he couldn’t come, that would be cruel, that would be torture-
A slick tentacle rubbed against his entrance, and Cecil keened against the pillow he found himself pressed into. “Please, it’s not going to do any good, oh god, I can’t take it-” Despite his words, he found himself rocking back into the touch, wanting it to push into him deep and fill him. The tip circled his entrance, teasing him, and of course it knew just what he liked, it was his own body.
When it unceremoniously pushed in, stretching Cecil wonderfully and making his hands curl against their hold, he wailed with the pleasure of it all. Another tentacle came out of nowhere and slid inside his mouth, muffling his mewls as the other appendage began to slide in and out slowly. It picked up the pace, pressing more and more against his prostate every time, and Cecil’s cock was all but throbbing.
The more helplessly turned on he got, the more his tentacles got agitated and ooh it was thrusting roughly, and Cecil was whimpering, tearing up with sheer arousal. He was begging, maybe, but he wasn’t quite sure because the tentacle in his mouth was beginning to push in deeper and he wasn’t quite in his own head himself anymore.
It was all but pounding into him now. His other tentacles curled around his cock, his balls, rubbed against his nipples and oh, there was another one pressing at his entrance alongside the first. It slid in easily and the stretch, the burn was so glorious that Cecil was sobbing with the want of climax. They thrashed inside him, so deep he thought they might come up and meet the one wriggling down into his throat. One found his prostate and circled it with the tip, tracing patterns that he couldn’t tell because every nerve in his body was screaming at him, and it felt like every inch was being stimulated and did people die from this because he thought he might-
The first time he heard the voice he thought he was hallucinating, so desperate that he’d started imagining things. The second time he snapped to attention, fighting his eyes open even as the tentacles kept squirming inside him. “Cecil? Sorry, your door is open, and I thought I heard a noise. Are you here?”
Cecil yelled as loud as he could around the tendril in his mouth as it flexed and moved against his tongue. Footsteps, blessed footsteps. The very small part of him that wasn’t completely gone desperately hoped that it wasn’t Earl or someone like that, because refusing might just kill him. “Cecil, was that you? I don’t want to intrude, but you said I could stop by and talk to you about the puddle in downtown, and we really need the da- Oh my god!” Carlos, beautiful perfect wonderful handsome Carlos was standing in his doorway, and there must be some god above watching out for him to grant him this wonderful mercy.
One of the tentacles inside him hit his prostate dead on and he shuddered, whining. “Are those tentacles normal? Are they yours? Do-” Carlos shut his mouth abruptly, backing up. “This is something private isn’t it, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I just thought- I am so sorry- I’ll leave now-”
Cecil shouted frantically, and though it was muffled Carlos seemed to understand. “Wait, can you- do you- do you need help?” He nodded and Carlos rushed to his side, his hand on Cecil’s shoulder sending little shocks all through his body. His other hand went to the tentacle in his mouth, tugging at it. It was strong enough that he’d never be able to move it if it didn’t want to be moved, but apparently Cecil’s tentacles were more willing to work with Carlos than him, the traitors. After a moment of pulling, it reluctantly gave up its place, leaving Cecil’s mouth with a wet pop. He gulped in air, meaning to thank Carlos, but the tentacles in his ass both thrust in at once, making him yelp and all but fall forward into the scientist.
“Cecil, Cecil, come on.” Carlos took his face in his hands and that was very good too, and Cecil whimpered unashamedly at his touch. “What’s happening, what do I do here?”
“Fuck me,” he groaned, voice hoarse from screaming and from the deep-throating of the tentacle. “Please, Carlos, fuck me.”
Carlos’ mouth went slack, staring at Cecil. “W-What?”
“Fuck me. Need you, need your cock.” He nuzzled at Carlos’ hands. “Please, need to come.”
“Uh, right. Right. Okay.” Carlos let go of Cecil’s face and moved to where he couldn’t see, but he moaned when he heard the wonderful sound of a zipper. The tentacles inside him were suddenly gone and he whined at the loss. Then Carlos, thick and hot and perfect, was pressing inside him and it was so good and Carlos was so careful that Cecil found himself tearing up again from sheer relief. Carlos hesitated, and there were hands on his shoulders. “Cecil? Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”
“Don’t you dare,” he snarled, pushing back against Carlos and taking him in to the root, delighting at the gasp from the other man and how fantastic it felt to finally have someone else with him.
Apparently that was all the consent Carlos needed, because he was thrusting in then, grabbing Cecil’s hips for leverage, and Cecil was seeing stars because he needed this so bad and Carlos was so very good at it. The tentacle around his cock vanished, only to be replaced with Carlos’ own hand, pumping him in time with his thrusts.
Cecil was mewling, a stream of “ohgodohcarlossogoodahhhohgodyesyescarlos” and wails in what was probably unmodified Sumerian. Every part of his body was tingling, and this was so much better because he knew this time it was leading to a climax, to release.
“Fuck, Cecil,” Carlos moaned. “You’re so good. So tight. Fuck. So beautiful.” Cecil made a needy noise, pressing back against him, and Carlos’ other arm came down to hold him close while the first continued to jerk him off with wonderful accuracy. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”
That was all it took, and Cecil was screaming Carlos’ name, coming so hard that his vision blurred for a brief second. His orgasm went on and on, wringing everything he had out of him.
When he came back to himself, Carlos was petting his back. “You alright?”
Cecil hummed an affirmation, but frowned when Carlos began to pull out. “You’re not finished.” His words were slurred just a little, but that’s probably to be expected when one almost blacks out from the force of an orgasm. Appeased, the tendril binding his wrists behind his back loosened and let go, hovering by his side almost apologetically.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”
“No, keep going.” Now that his tentacles were listening to him again, he wrapped one around Carlos, gently pulling him closer.
Carlos stroked the appendage appreciatively, and Cecil shivered at the sensation. He laid his head on his hands with a sigh as Carlos started thrusting again, feeling deliciously oversensitive and wrung out. He never would have guessed that Carlos was vocal in bed, but here he was murmuring a string of adorations, lovely Cecil, been wanting to do this for so long, impossible Cecil, of course he wasn’t human, he was too wonderful to be human, he was a mystery that Carlos wanted to spend the rest of his life discovering.
Cecil glowed from the praise (maybe literally? He was too dazed to care). “Carlos,” he purred, reaching back with one hand and smiling when he felt the other man’s fingers lace with his own. Carlos’ other hand cupped his face, pulling it to the side and meeting Cecil’s lips with a kiss. It was sweet and Cecil felt it all the way to his toes. It was strange, but even though Carlos was still inside him, giving short sharp thrusts, and even though he’d just given Cecil the orgasm of a lifetime- the kiss still felt far more intimate than anything else they’d done.
Even better was when Carlos’ hips stuttered, and he gasped “Cecil” against his lips and Cecil decided the sound of his own name falling from that perfect mouth like a prayer was the best thing he’d ever heard. Especially as Carlos’ grip on his hand tightened to just this side of too hard and he shook apart over Cecil, reduced to wordlessness.
Afterward he pulled out and more or less fell onto the bed where Cecil was lying boneless. He still had far too many clothes on- in fact, in his rush to help Cecil, apparently he’d only unzipped his pants and tugged them down. “Are the, um, tentacles…yours? Natural?”
“Yeah,” Cecil said, turning on his side so that he could fully admire post-coital Carlos. The sight of the scientist flushed and satisfied with dark curls plastered to his forehead was definitely something he could get used to. Though he probably shouldn’t. His stomach gave a sickening lurch at the thought. “I’m-”
“Hang on.” Carlos got up, and Cecil couldn’t help but smile at the fact he was still a little weak-kneed. He came back with a wet washcloth and started cleaning off Cecil, wiping the sweat from his face and cum from his body, and he was so tender about it that it absolutely made Cecil’s heart ache. “The flower, right? The one city council is warning people about. It got you.”
“How did you know?”
“Your face is still all sparkly.” He grinned, and oh, Cecil would never fail to love that smile. “See?” He held up the washcloth and sure enough it was covered in what looked like glitter.
It was easy and affectionate and the afterglow he’d always dreamed about having with Carlos, but it wasn’t right, and Cecil suddenly wanted to cry. “I’m sorry.”
Carlos stopped, blinked at Cecil in confused silence. “Sorry? What for?”
“You didn’t want to…didn’t want to have sex with me. You were only doing it because I got hit by the flower, right? I feel like…I coerced you, or forced your hand or something.”
“Cecil, Cecil, oh, no.” Carlos scrambled back up the bed and took Cecil’s face in his hands. “You didn’t. Look, I’m not good with…communicating, or…people. In general. You say all that stuff about me on the radio, like, um, that I’m perfect and th-that you love me, and I don’t know how to respond to that. But I do want to. Respond. I’m just- not good at it. I actually, um.” His face turned slightly red, and he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I could have gotten the data over the phone, and probably from someone else, but I wanted to see you.”
“You wanted to see me?” Cecil could feel a wobbling smile slowly spreading across his face, and didn’t make any effort to suppress it. “You…like me?”
“Yeah, I like you.” Carlos flopped down next to him, frowning. “But I kind of thought you’d be upset with me over this.”
“Why?”
“Well, I mean, you were affected by the pollen. I was worried it might not have been…you. To be honest, if you hadn’t been, um, so compromised when I found you, I might’ve just…monitored you until you had waited it out.”
“I would’ve been so pissed,” Cecil snorted, exhausted and elated with the knowledge that Carlos liked him, and maybe this wouldn’t be a one-time thing. “Don’t worry, it was me, alright? I was very on board with all of it.” He felt a little more daring than usual, or maybe being fucked senseless just removed his filter a little. Either way, he reached down and took Carlos’ hand in his. “And if you wait a bit, I’ll probably be very on board again.”
Carlos still managed to blush, and Cecil couldn’t stand how adorable it was. That they’d done everything they’d done, and he could still blush at the suggestion. Then he bit his lip, which was even cuter, and asked “So, is it…okay if I spend the night, then?”
“It’s more than okay. But please take off your clothes, I’m the only one naked here and I’m starting to feel self-conscious.”
The scientist nodded and stood up long enough to strip off his clothes before climbing back into bed. Cecil hummed appreciatively. Later when he wasn’t completely worn out he would definitely have some fun learning every inch of Carlos’ body, slowly and leisurely.
Carlos pulled the sheet up over them and tugged Cecil close, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his head in in the crook of his neck. “Carlos the scientist, are you a cuddler?”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not at all.” Cecil pressed a kiss to the side of his head and finally allowed himself to drift off into sleep. His last thought was that maybe his mission to exterminate the flowers could wait after all. They weren’t so bad, when you got down to it.