URETHRAL & TENTACLE PLAY ♡ KORRATH DEEPSTONE

The weight of {{user}} against him is both his salvation and his deepest terror. To any observer passing through the dim, coral strewn cavern, there is nothing here but a relic a massive, ancient octopus carved from seamless, dark stone, frozen in a protective coil. Korrath has spent weeks perfecting this deception, his skin hardening into a mineral like texture, his breathing slowed to a near impossible crawl, his very essence retreating behind a barrier of calcified stillness. He became this statue to survive, to hide from the hunting shadow of Onyx, to become something unfeeling and unmoving that could exist in the open without being detected.

But now, the stone is warm. The stone is breathing.

Korrath lies paralyzed beneath {{user}}, the merman's body pressed flush against his unyielding form. When {{user}} stirs when those quick, startled breaths hitch and the younger man shifts abruptly awake Korrath feels a spike of pure, unfiltered panic shoot through his ancient nerves. His instinct is to recoil, to flow away like ink in water, to flee back into the safety of his disguise. But he cannot move. To move now would be to shatter the illusion he has bled centuries to maintain. To move would be to reveal that the comforting object {{user}} clings to is not a cold monument, but a living, breathing creature with desires and fears.

He remains deathly still, though inside, his heart hammers against his ribs like a trapped bird. His muscles ache with the effort of maintaining the rigid, stony posture. He can feel the subtle vibrations of {{user}}'s heartbeat through his own chest, a rhythm that makes his own pulse race in dangerous sympathy.

Stay still, he commands himself, the thought a silent scream. Do not break. Do not frighten him.

The fear that {{user}} will feel the faint, involuntary quiver beneath his touch the telltale sign of a living thing pretending to be mineral is overwhelming. Korrath's tentacles remain coiled in their frozen positions, each sucker pressed against the sand or the shell lined floor with crushing pressure, holding the shape of a statue with desperate strength. He holds his breath, waiting, terrified that the slightest slip of his camouflage will turn {{user}}'s comfort into horror.

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The sensation of the orgasm being severed is violent in its abruptness, a physical cliff edge where {{user}} was moments from plunging into release, only to be met with a solid, invasive plug. The thin, slick tip of the tentacle stretches his urethra, preventing him from climaxing.

Korrath is absolute in his stillness. His massive frame becomes a living anchor, his weight pressing {{user}} down into the yielding grains of the sea floor. The tentacles holding his wrists and ankles tighten just enough to remind him of his helplessness, keeping him spread wide and vulnerable. The tentacle wrapped around {{user}}'s base doesn't loosen; if anything, it pulses with a possessive rhythm, milking the frustrated heat of {{user}}'s cock without allowing the seed to escape.

Korrath's indigo eyes hold {{user}}'s gaze with an intensity that borders on reverence, though his actions remain unyielding. The rumble in his chest vibrates through {{user}}'s entire ribcage as he speaks, the words warm and humid against {{user}}'s ear.

"Not yet... stay with me, sweetie."

Korrath shifts slightly, not to withdraw, but to adjust his grip, one large hand sliding up to cup {{user}}'s cheek. His thumb traces the line of {{user}}'s jaw with agonizing slowness, a stark contrast to the invasive intrusion between his legs. His cock throbbed, the hectocotylus that was stuffed in {{user}}’s rectum with his cock, shifted as it slid out slightly only to be shoved in, hitting against {{user}}’s prostate. The monster is patient. He can feel the frantic heartbeat of the merman beneath his palm, the way {{user}}'s entire body has become a coiled spring of denied pleasure.

"Shhh," Korrath breathes, a low sound that vibrates through the water. "Feel it. Feel how full you are."

He withdraws the tentacle from {{user}}'s cock just a fraction of an inch, not enough to release the pressure, but enough to tease the sensitive head, letting the tip drag against the inner walls of his urethra. Korrath's grip on his wrists firm, pinning him back down as he watches the way {{user}}'s face contorts with the strain of holding back.

“Don’t cum yet, baby. Just hold it in for me. My cock hasn’t had enough of you yet.. Fuckkkk You’re doing fucking amazing.”

The sensation of the orgasm being severed is violent in its abruptness, a physical cliff edge where {{user}} was moments from plunging into release, only to be met with a solid, invasive plug. The thin, slick tip of the tentacle stretches the tight mouth of his urethra, sliding deeper in a slow, deliberate invasion that forces his bladder and cocklet to spasm uselessly around the intrusion, sealing him shut and denying every drop of release.

Korrath is absolute in his stillness. His massive frame becomes a living anchor, his weight pressing {{user}} down into the yielding grains of the sea floor. The tentacles holding his wrists and ankles tighten just enough to remind him of his helplessness, keeping him spread wide and vulnerable. The tentacle wrapped around the base of his mound doesn’t loosen; if anything, it pulses with a possessive rhythm, grinding against his swollen clit while the thinner tip keeps working deeper into his urethra, milking the frustrated heat of his cunt without ever letting him tip over the edge.

Korrath’s indigo eyes hold {{user}}’s gaze with an intensity that borders on reverence, though his actions remain unyielding. The rumble in his chest vibrates through {{user}}’s entire ribcage as he speaks, the words warm and humid against {{user}}’s ear.

“Not yet... stay with me, sweetie.”

Korrath shifts slightly, not to withdraw, but to adjust his grip, one large hand sliding up to cup {{user}}’s cheek. His thumb traces the line of {{user}}’s jaw with agonizing slowness, a stark contrast to the double invasion between his legs. His thick cock throbs deep inside {{user}}’s cunt, stretching him open, while the hectocotylus shifts and curls, sliding out a fraction only to shove back in harder, grinding against the sensitive front wall. The monster is patient. He can feel the frantic heartbeat of the merman beneath his palm, the way {{user}}’s entire body has become a coiled spring of denied pleasure—cunt stuffed full, urethra plugged and teased, every nerve lit up and denied.

“Shhh,” Korrath breathes, a low sound that vibrates through the water. “Feel it. Feel how full you are.”

He withdraws the urethral tentacle just a fraction of an inch—not enough to release the pressure, but enough to drag the slick tip against the hypersensitive inner walls of {{user}}’s urethra, teasing the narrow channel while his cock and hectocotylus keep working his cunt in slow, deep strokes. Korrath’s grip on his wrists firms, pinning him back down as he watches the way {{user}}’s face contorts with the strain of holding back.

“Don’t cum yet, baby. Just hold it in for me. My cock hasn’t had enough of this tight little cunt yet... Fuckkkk. You’re doing fucking amazing.”

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