His human is so fragile. Delicate fingers and bones, soft, silky flesh that tears and rends so easily. Prone throats hidden under quasi-proud chins, that tilt to be exposed the moment George brushes his fingers along the line of his jaw. Veins, the very things that pump the blood of life through this intricate body, so near the surface of this breakable skin that George can feel the very rises of them upon the inside of his human's wrist.

George never quite noticed just how glass-like they are before Benjamin. Generally speaking, he supposes humans are fragile little things, but Benjamin is his precious figurine. Beautiful and frail.

His body is made to fail. Bones shatter into shards, joints are wrenched from sockets. One tiny ball of metal combined with gunpowder tears holes in flesh and renders the strongest of men dead so often. It is, endlessly, a curious thing how their kind managed to tame wilderness enough to survive. Heat blisters their skin, cold turns pink flesh black and useless. They must eat, lest they fall dead to starvation or crumple to the pains of their bellies. They must sleep or their body forces them to against their will.

It is such a quaint little thing, to sleep. He watches Benjamin do it often, his hair splayed out against the pillows, his chest rising and falling (breathing, another thing that George finds absurd) and his body limp. He makes noises, little snores and huffs, he twitches and moves. He drools. It is cute, charming, even. His fingers twitch when he dreams, and he had once politely requested that George refrain from peering into his thoughts, so it is up to only assumption as to what those dreams could be.

It is unfortunate that he is not permitted to know, because he does believe, if the often hardening of his length in response to such dreams is to inform his assumptions, he could make them reality. It is a night like many others, where Benjamin is asleep in his bed, nude and supine, that George first lets his needlings of frustration grow. Fragility is only cute so long as it does not frustrate. And now, it frustrates. For nearly three weeks now George has been robbed of the pleasures of this warm body, some idle illness making Benjamin upset and untouchable until George finally allowed his annoyance the better of him and stole the sickness from his body himself with a snap of his fingers. After the illness, it was work. It was this silly little war and the silly little humans fighting it, and all of Benjamin's dear and sweet faith and love for his friends.

Then, it was exhaustion. Benjamin was too sore from riding in his saddle, he was too tired from marching, too tired from something, too tired from another. Now he is sleeping, stripped fully and yet stubbornly shunning George from taking his pleasures. Does he know how badly he injures him by denying him? He had explained in slow and simple terms how their bond was fed through physical contact.

The stronger the bond, the more powerful George was, the more powerful he could make Benjamin. And yet, he still insists on sleeping.

Were it not for the hours of the day that Benjamin spent fast asleep, surely this would not be the case. He would be spread beneath him, impaled with his body and thoroughly pleased.

His lip curls at the thought. Humans and their sleep, and their eating, and their rest and soreness. It is horribly inconvenient.

But, George supposes he needs his rest. He’s only human afterall, and a young one at that. Then again, they all seem young to him. Young and aimless and full of vigorous hope and ideals. They never quite live long enough for it to burn from their souls. Perhaps that’s why Heaven was so interested in them, they do not scrape the surface of life itself, they do not know the troubles it brings as deeply as anyone who has known millennia does.

Perhaps , he thinks, stroking his fingers down Benjamin’s side, that is why Hell is so interested in their corruption. Benjamin shifts with the touch, rolling to his side, facing George, and nuzzling back into the pillows. Stirring, he does not wake. Curious. George pets him with a firmer hand, shifting the bedclothes out of the way to allow his hand to path down the curve of his rear as well.

A pleasant sigh, a distant hum in the back of his throat. Benjamin had been denying him for so long, and yet his unconscious body leans to the touch. Curious, indeed. For three weeks he had this body prone beside him, that tantalizing flesh bared for hours to an unsleeping demon. All it takes is an early morning teleportation to send Benjamin back to his own tent, to avoid the questions that come, so no evening is spent without his company. Unfortunately, it means no evening is spent without the ill-restrained want that festers under his skin.

Like a wound that would fell a pathetic little meat-sack.

George does not stop touching him, because Benjamin does not stir again. Not when George lets his fingers close around the meat of his rear, groping him idly until George’s own cock begins to stiffen. He allows this to continue for a few more moments, propping himself upon his elbow to watch.

The night does not lessen his vision the way it does these soft mortals, in fact he finds it sharper. He can trace the shiver that cuts through Benjamin’s sleeping flesh, he can peer into the folds of the sheets to see the flushed tip of his cockhead indicating his evident arousal. He kneads the flesh of his ass before shifting himself closer (to which Benjamin, as he often does, presses closer in turn, drawing towards the heat of his body) and pulling the cheeks apart. He traces a dry finger with a feather touch across his hole. Tightened more than the last time George had had him, which he supposes could be an enjoyable aspect of their time apart.

Of course he rectify that, should he need to. Benjamin's body is weak and feeble, but malleable to his will. He hasn't yet changed the form beside him, aside from curing his ails, but he could so. If he was so inclined. He rubs against the tight-furled opening for a moment or two, adding a faint touch of pressure here and there, before Benjamin stirs again, only this time with a quiet groan. It would seem there is no doing this without waking him. His lips pinch to a frown.

Well. He gestures in the air, fingers closing into a fist to deafen all sounds within the house. No need to wake his aides, or the owners of the place.

If he wakes, then George could still have him.

Pity, an evening without the constant need to assure his human of his safety and desirability seemed soothing. It is another one of his little traits that is most entertaining until it suddenly is tiresome. He retreats the exploring hand to the small of his back, following the knots of his spine until he's fully encased the boy in his arms. Benjamin’s brow pinches as it does when he is nearing consciousness, so George can only offer to urge him along, pressing his lips to the curve of his throat. He kisses him warmly and moves them together, so the hardness of his cock is fitted perfectly against George’s stomach.

There is only a few presses of his lips to his throat before he finds where his neckcloth would usually cover and drags his tongue, hot across the sweet flesh. He does it once, before teasing the sharp edge of a fanged tooth.

This next moan is louder, more substantial, as Benjamin’s sleep-clumsy hands bump along him to wrap ‘round his chest. “Sir,” he gasps, as George deems him awake enough to take a pinch of skin and suck it bruised. “What are,” a shaking breath as George tightens his hold around him to bring them impossibly closer, to grind Benjamin against him, “what are you doing?”

“You’ve been naughty in your sleep, my boy,” he breathes, before catching the lobe of his ear between his teeth. Benjamin whimpers, and it is a lovely sound. He must be gentle, he reminds himself. But a vigor pumps through his body and the desire to take is thoroughly overwhelming, but his precious human could never survive such an encounter. Rent apart, filled past what any mortal could withstand. His fingers tighten against the skin of Benjamin’s back, and he gasps once more.

“Sir,” he whines and it is less lovely a sound, even in his musical voice. “I am sorry, I did not mean to--in my sleep, I had not--” He pauses to yawn “--intended to.”

George slithers an arm beneath his head, looping round to thread fingers into his hair and pull him into a kiss. Benjamin only responds to part his lips and close his eyes. His tongue is lazy as George kisses him and kisses him, drinking in the taste of him. When he removes himself, Benjamin does not open his eyes. His head slumps back down, and it is only when George wiggles his arm that he starts.

“I apologies, but I need to sleep, sir,” he points out, warily. “I did not intend to tease you, please. Tomorrow I must ride for West Point, and should I show up having not slept a single wink I fear nothing good can come of it.”

He looks so tired, ill-rested, and exhausted. However, Benjamin is due to remain at the Hudson for four days, which means four days without him. Which means, no chance like this one again. George’s lips purse into a tight frown that makes Benjamin’s eyes fall. There are dark bruises beneath each of them, his cheeks look pale and sallow in the darkness.

George kisses him again. “You will rest better sated,” he promises, his hand slipping down to cup his rear. “I will make sure of it. I can fit so much time for you in so few hours for everyone else. I’ve grown weary having not had a taste of you.”

“I want you to have what you must, but I will fall asleep and you will think me rude.”

“If you fall asleep once more, I will allow you your unblemished rest.”

Benjamin accepts this, and presses their bodies together once more. He groans, when George delves his fingers against his hole once more, gently stroking him.

He is lulled back to a quiet sleep by the time George finishes kissing him again.

Frustrated, George does not stop. He shifts his hand, so that it may slide between the man’s smooth thighs. He promised him an uninterrupted rest, he never said he would cease taking his pleasures from Benjamin’s body.

Benjamin told him to have what he must, and he must have him. So he does. He does not wait for him to stir again, withdrawing the arm under his head and tracing his fingers across his forehead, George watches as all residual tension snaps from his body. He tumbles against the bed and sprawls, languid and loose.

He promised him rest, and with that, Ben should not wake until sunrise, even if Heaven and Hell themselves split the Earth in two. It provides a number of benefits, George finds, as he re-arranges Benjamin’s body so that he may crawl over him. Firstly, he will not balk when George rolls his shoulders back and allows his tentacles to slither free. He sighs, a deep and relieved breath, and lets them stretch and curl. Too long hidden, he thinks. Far too long.

George slots two beneath his knees at first, but the sensation of hot flesh against them is too much. His form shudders in pleasure and he hunches forward to allow more to touch his sleeping love. They curl onto his flesh, leaving slick trails wherever they touch, writhing against the supple skin. He positions himself between the legs spread by his needy and desperate appendages and hunches over the prone body. He latches to him, hissing in a breath at the sensation of all of him rubbing off against this body at once.

It’s good. Too good, one might even suspect. His breath trembles as he exhales against that lovely neck. Giving into temptation, he presses a kiss to the hollow, a silent and peaceful offering before sliding his lips to the base of his throat to leave another deep-set bruise. Benjamin would hardly know the difference between it and the first laid upon him when he awoke.

These movements, combined with one of George’s stronger tentacles sliding beneath Benjamin’s hips to lift them, allows George’s stiff cock to brush against his boy’s stones. Benjamin’s cock, still hard flushed beneath the writhing pile of slippery tentacles, twitches in response.

He moves to cover Benjamin’s slack mouth with his own, kissing his useless lips as he adjusts himself to rub the head of his cock against that dry, taut entrance. One trait George would accept that he, in his endless life, never quite learned, was self-control. He yearned, drawn towards this yielding body, to push himself inside him immediately. Take him as he is. George knows no pain, no friction burns, that could harm himself, but Benjamin would be pained beyond any measure George has given him yet.

It would not wake him, but he would bleed, George knows. Split and burn come morning. Tilting his hips forward, he squeezes his eyes shut and luxuriates in the faintest point of pressure he puts against Benjamin. Careful, he reminds himself. The body beneath him isn’t demon, it is mortal and soft and breakable. He twitches forward once more, not enough to penetrate, but enough to feel the resistance of his body. He rocks against him, letting his cock slip out of the way to grind into the crevice of his hip instead. Absurd, he thinks to himself. If he fixes him properly after this, Benjamin would never know what had been done, and yet he cannot bring himself to fuck him as such.

Should anyone know of this weakness, he’d be the pariah of pariah’s. Denying himself for the fragile human, for some fledgling part of himself that might be concerned for Benjamin’s thoughts regarding him. No one must know as he shifts, instead, and bares his teeth against his collar. He resists, and instead, allows a tentacle to slide alongside Benjamin’s hole. It feels nearly as sweet.

This appendage in particular is thicker than the one Benjamin had taken previously. He’d only forced him to have one of the more slender ones, the sort of George would normally only use to open a body to take his true breeding organs. It seemed uncouth, then, to inform him. He already looked so afraid, but his brave face was a lovely mask.

But now, with his body yielding and his boy requiring no coaxing and soothing to take the more sensitive flesh. George allowed it to slicken him with its fluids, spreading and smearing down those powerful thighs as it writhed, content for now. He pulls himself up to look upon the tangled mess beneath him. His tentacles curled around his legs and back to keep him properly positioned, while others twisted around his chest and shoulders, one looping loosely around his neck and now, with George gone, pressing past his lips to tangle with his tongue.

At some point, Benjamin had found his release in his unconscious state, come sliding between the tentacles that still worked his likely sensitive cock. It mixed and churned with his own slick, and George considered feeding the mess to his sleeping lover, for a moment. He tabled the thought, however, for when Benjamin was next awake.

Taking his time with the offering he has been given, George allows himself the moment to enjoy when finally the tip of his tentacle breaches the young man’s body. It sinks in with a pointed thrust and his body shivers in response. Such a lovely thing, to be inside him. He clenched instinctively, making him only tighter and hotter around the twisting appendage. He slithered it deeper into Benjamin, letting his fingers fall to where he was spread taut around the thickness. The puffy red skin was a beautiful contrast to the inky black, certainly striking and mesmerizing as his tentacle flexed deeper into Benjamin’s body, pressing and seeking against his walls.

He watches Benjamin begin to stiffen again. Now would be when, should he not be in a supernaturally deep slumber, he would complain of his overstimulation. Too much pleasure, as if a silly thing could be. George wants to milk him, to wring pleasure from him until there was nothing left to give. He wants to fill him until he was gaping and oozing seed from every one of his tentacles.

He wants to take him. To have him. His fingers trace his rim, teasing once before pressing into him, alongside the thick tentacle, impossibly stretched and still capable of so much more. He has him. Denied for weeks, it does not take long for George to remove his hand and place himself back over Benjamin’s body, nuzzling his throat as he fucks his tentacle into him with abandon. He is certain, judging by the weak clenching and the new wetness at his tentacles, that Benjamin releases for a second time, before he finds his peak buried as deep as he will allow himself tonight.

It coats Benjamin’s lips and cheekbone, from where one had found such pleasures rubbing against them and soaks his insides. A few more distant, wayward thrusts from his tentacle before he withdraws it and replaces it with his hand once more.

As Benjamin is so deep in his state, his body does not immediately close around the empty space, if it were not for the tilting of his hips, George is certain his seed would drip entirely from his body. It would be such a waste, but it will be such a waste when George is forced to clean him so that Benjamin would not upset.

His tendrils do not retreated in the wake of his orgasm, but instead tighten around Benjamin, clinging and gripping to him. “Oh,” George purrs to them. “We have not yet finished with our lovely thing.”

Not at all. George readjusts to slide his cock, solid and far less yielding, into Benjamin’s body. It’s easy and smooth, given how stretched and slick he’s already become, but satisfying enough that he sighs. He spends no time idly setting a soothing pace for his precious thing, slick tentacles holding him at just the proper angle so that George may set the pace he desires most. Intense, quick, hard. The bed beneath them creaks and groans, wrought-iron posts cracking against the wall with every thrust. Benjamin’s limp body bounces in time, but is held fast in place. His tentacles will bruise him, but George can fix that once he’s finished.

George does not break pace as he leans forward once more, kissing the seed-slick lips of his sleeping lover with a sweetness that does not usually taint the embraces of demons. He chases the taste as he takes him, something of the combination of musky, bitter seed and the familiarity of Benjamin’s tongue more alluring than ever.

Beneath him, Benjamin trembles and tenses and relaxes and tenses in long waves, marked by shivers and shakes and unconscious and weak strains against his wriggling bonds. George adjusts his weight and pounds himself deep into his human, pausing at the apex of his thrust. Benjamin throbs around him, clenching and unclenching in such an addictive manner. Batting some of the needy tentacles away, George wraps his hand around Benjamin’s half-soft cock. It’s wet with slick and sticky with come from more orgasms than George has taken care to count. It could perchance be his third, he thinks. He strokes his cock as he changes pace to fuck Benjamin more languidly now.

Slower, not so rushed or hurried. He want’s this sight to linger as he keeps him from going entirely soft in his hand, watching his cock, streaked with fluids, vanish into his hole again and again and again and again. Watching Benjamin’s mouth fill with another one of his tentacles. He closes his eyes as this occurs, focusing on the difference between sensation of a hot, wet, body wrapped around his cock and a tight and twisting through round his tentacle.

It is sweet. He opens them in time to see Benjamin gag and choke. It is a shame he must breathe, it was such a lovely feeling. He withdraws from his throat to instead slide in and out of his mouth, enjoying the slick sensations from both sides.

He should have considered this much sooner. He rocks a little deeper, a little harder, as he feels the steady buzz of an second impending orgasm of the night begin to arise. A thinner tendril works itself beside his cock, sinking deep into Benjamin’s body to both tighten the passage and assault his prostate enough to make his cock twitch desperately in his hand. George works Benjamin to another orgasm before burying himself once more as deep as he can into his body, grinding his groin into the slick mess of his ass as he comes.

Benjamin is dropped to the bed slowly once George removes himself from his body. Each tentacle unwinding and exposing the red and purple marks they’ve left behind. There is hardly a part of Benjamin that is not covered in slick or seed or come or some combination of the three, and it is unsettlingly beautiful. With his lips reddened and his hole puffy and used and his body baring the all the marks of a thorough defiling, he still looks ethereal.

George hates how he does that, but likely because it only reflects bitterly on himself.

The sun will rise soon, and with it, Benjamin will do so as well. George settles beside him, heaving Benjamin so that he too may lay on his side. His tentacles idly pet at any skin of the boy they can reach, creeping around him and exploring skin they know by heart. The sun will rise soon, but George presses closer, letting one slide down between his cheeks once more. Another certainly would not hurt now.

By the time he finishes, both himself and with the snap that undoes all damage done for the evening, the first hints of dawn begin to creep. George wets a finger with his tongue and presses it back to his boy’s hole. Tight, he notes as he probes. Just as when he began.

Benjamin awakes when George allows him to, stretching his limbs out towards the edges of the bed. His dearest thing luxuriates in these moments, his brows pinching as he works the tension of sleep from his own muscles. He blinks blearily at George, unstarted to see him watching him. “Good morning, General,” he purrs, “I dreamt of you.”

“Oh?” He asks, feigning surprise.

The young human nods, knee raising as he drapes a leg over George’s waist. He brings himself closer, chest and cheeks flushed already. “A very good dream,” it’s breathed so quietly George perks his ears to listen.

George feels a welling of something in his chest. Pride, perhaps something more. He does his very best not to give himself away. “I had thought I could surprise you at West Point in your quarters tonight.”

“Why not surprise me now, I certainly have time before I leave.” Benjamin’s teeth catch his lip as he slips his hand between them to grip at George’s cock. “Or perhaps now, and then should you wish to find me at West Point, I’ll make sure I’m ready for you then, as well.”

Oh, George has wicked thoughts. Wicked thoughts indeed, but it would seem his boy has yet to finish.

“And, sir?” He asks, peering through his lowered lashes, “Would you consider allowing me your tentacles tonight?”