My Cameron Chapter 1

I was promised little green men, not octopus people with a name that had so many random letters in it the news people were having conniptions trying to pronounce it right. And the debates over the right way to use it in a sentence were even worse. Was it supposed to be said like “They were from Greece” or “They were Greek?”

The debate from the science guys on one of the morning talk shows got so vicious, they’d actually had to cut to an early commercial break when one scientist slugged the other. Daytime television had never been more insane.

But as annoying as it all was, I was just grateful that politics wasn’t the biggest issue anymore. When the aliens who’d invaded weren’t little green men but multi-tentacled things that asked for asylum and wanted to pay taxes, everything else took a back seat.

Especially when they’d settled in New York and tried to use the sewer system as a secondary subway. That had been an epic mess that had dominated the top news feeds for weeks until regulations could be put in place. It’d been nuts.

And as a plumber, I’d know.

I’d made more in the first six months of their “invasion” than I had in the previous three years combined. Every housewife in America wanted a screen or mesh installed in their shower and a lock on the toilet.

And damn if that hadn’t created the best memes in the history of the internet.

As I finished getting everything cleaned up in my van and started heading up the stairs, dinner became a priority. Ordering something for delivery used to be easy and hard to screw up. Not anymore. Instead of just having to choose between Chinese or pizza, the options had started to include all kinds of crazy fish and weird stuff that the new neighbors preferred.

The new food and restaurants were causing another debate as well.

How many fish restaurants were actually necessary when they moved into an area?

Every pizza place had started to create the craziest combinations to draw in the new customers, and the Chinese restaurants had gotten even more creative. I’d learned to cook for myself fast after the first pizza where the fish still seemed to be alive.

On the bright side, I’d lost ten pounds.

Looking hotter hadn’t made it any easier to get laid or find a boyfriend, though. With the hours I worked, making time for someone was hard. And once everything had changed, with aliens popping up in everyone’s bathrooms, people had either gone uber-religious like the world was going to end, or they’d gotten weird.

Like tentacle porn weird.

I just hoped it all settled down before I was too old for sex.

Finally making it up to my apartment, I got inside and slammed the door, ready for the day and the week to be over. Putting the thought of food on hold for the moment, I set my keys down on the table and went into the kitchen for a beer.

I was hot and tired, and the first one went down entirely too easily. Grabbing another beer from the fridge before I left the kitchen, I headed back to the bedroom, feeling slightly better than I had when I’d gotten home. I might look built and fairly masculine, but I was a bottom who absorbed alcohol like a teenage girl getting drunk on wine coolers for the first time.

Heading straight into the bathroom, I turned on the shower and started stripping off my clothes. By the time the water heated up, I’d finished the second beer and was feeling relaxed and well past buzzed. Food first probably would have been a good idea, but I was looking forward to getting off and relaxing.

Stepping into the shower, I closed my eyes and leaned against the tiled wall as the water beat down on my chest and cock. As exhausted as I was, I shouldn’t have been hard, but my cock was getting tired of my right hand and had started to protest our lack of sexual partners lately. Unfortunately, the only options recently had been bad news or just bad ideas.

Reaching for my dick, I gave it long, slow strokes trying not to rush through to the finish, but with it just being me, there wasn’t any reason to make it last longer. Tightening my grip, just enough to make my toes start to curl, I started moving my hand faster.

I loved the bite of pain when I jerked off, and it was even better when someone else was doing it to me. But finding partners who knew when to stop and how far to go was hard. They were either too enthusiastic, too fast, or too nervous—and the old joke about men and directions wasn’t a lie.

Or at least men who were dominant tops.

As my balls began to tighten and I could feel my orgasm start to rush through me, a soft caress to my foot had me screaming like a teenage girl in a horror movie. “Damn it, George, you’ve got to learn some fucking directions!”

My neighbor was personable, quiet, helpful when you had to lug too many grocery bags up the stairs, and blessed with absolutely no sense of direction. Even after living in the building for a month, he’d still popped out of every pipe in the building.

A vibration ran through the bottom of the floor. I knew he was probably apologizing, but verbal sounds didn’t translate well when they went all oozy on you. Some guy on TV had tried to explain it while trying to convince people to stop calling 911 every time a new neighbor got lost, but it was too complicated to remember.

All I really knew was that they looked fairly human shaped on land, aside from the whole tentacles part, but when they wanted to, they could squeeze into almost anything and looked more like something that should be swimming around in the ocean.

I’d gotten used to their appearance pretty fast after letting one after another out of drains and pipes. After the third alien in a day, they weren’t so startling. Something about their flatter features and smooth skin was actually attractive once I’d gotten used to the differences.

George wrapped an appendage around my foot and gave it a caress. It was probably another apology—they seemed to be a touchy-feely group—but my cock had other ideas. “It’s alright, just go back to your place and look at the map again.”

They really needed to learn to use public transportation.

I didn’t know if he was just feeling frisky or if he’d realized what I’d been doing, but his tentacle just tightened and started easing its way up my leg. Stubborn old goat. If there hadn’t been something about him that made me want to get to know him more, I’d have been more frustrated. But it was too hard to stay mad when he smiled at me. “I’m not going out with you. Stop that.”

It would have probably sounded more threatening if I hadn’t moaned.

He’d asked me out several times, but I had a firm policy not to date anyone I lived in the same building with. You could never tell what would happen when you broke up with someone. The nicest guys were the ones who’d usually go apeshit on you, and the big bossy tops were the ones who’d cry every time you got stuck in the elevator together.

Nope. I wasn’t doing that again.

But George’s…hand was making it hard to remember why I’d said no. “Damn it, George, you can’t do stuff like that.”

Yeah, the breathy whine wasn’t helping me sound convincing.

He must have realized that because a second arm came out. We were all still learning the socially acceptable terms, but it was confusing when some were for walking and some were for carrying things, but they all looked like legs—just tentacle legs.

George wasn’t taking no for an answer when it came to the date, though. His not-so-subtle glances and teasing had made it very clear he knew I wasn’t saying no because I was turned off by him. I wasn’t sure how to judge which of them were hot or not because the cultures were so different, but he was nice, and something about him came across as dominant enough to turn me on.
Like not taking my wimpy, needy “no” for an answer in the shower.

“This doesn’t mean I’m going to dinner with you.” I really shouldn’t go to dinner with him. It was a bad idea. But that probably shouldn’t have been my biggest concern when he was stroking my leg in the shower.

Yeah, my screwed-up priorities might have been part of the reason he wasn’t giving up.

I felt another vibration through the floor, but I didn’t even try to guess what he was attempting to say. The first tentacle was entirely too distracting. He’d either spent time watching human porn, or as a species, we were entirely too easy to figure out, because he started teasing around my cock with the perfect pressure.

He must have known better than to come all the way into the shower—we hadn’t even been on a date yet—but he justified a third tentacle pretty easily before he stopped coming up the drain. I was either going to have to date the guy or buy a drain screen after letting him jerk me off in the shower.


As the first limb started to wrap around my dick, tightening perfectly, the second started teasing at my ass. Thank god. There’d been no good way to ask if he was a top while I was telling him that I wouldn’t go on a date.

And no good way to explain what a top was if he hadn’t figured that part out already.

Can you say sending mixed signals?

The water and the smooth texture of his body made sliding into me easier than I would have expected. It probably helped that his limb started out thin and then got thicker as it got closer to his body. As he slowly got deeper, he tightened the other limb around my cock, distracting me, and all I could do was moan.

He didn’t go too fast, but he didn’t take it easy on me either. I wasn’t going to even try to guess how he knew exactly what would be perfect. All I wanted to do was let him keep fucking me with his smooth, surprisingly flexible body.

George seemed to be able to tease at my prostate with the tip and fuck me with the rest. The friction was just enough to make me ache, but in the most incredible way. I was going to feel it later, but at that moment it was perfect.

I’d forgotten about the third tentacle until it started plucking at my nipples hard enough to make my body shake and my chest arch away from the shower wall. “Oh, fuck, yes…please don’t stop.”
I sounded like some kind of porn star, but I’d never had sex with anyone who could play with my ass, my cock, and my nipples at the same time and not lose focus on something. Part of me wondered what he could do with all of his limbs, but I wasn’t ready to tell him to come all the way in yet.

Yeah, it was a stupidly thin line that didn’t mean shit—but I wasn’t ready to cross it. At least, not until I’d said I’d hang out with him and see if we were compatible anywhere else besides the shower.

As he pushed deeper into me, all I could do was moan and try to fuck myself faster on his body, but he wouldn’t let me. Every time I’d start to fuck myself faster, he’d pull out and wait. It was maddening, and so hot I thought I’d lose my mind.

“Damn it, I want to come.” The demand had him slapping the head of my dick with the tip of his tentacle just hard enough to make me shake and cry out so loud I knew people on the next floor could hear me.

“Please…I’ll be good…please…” It’d been years since anyone had sent me that high. If I’d been able to stretch out and relax under his touch, I knew I would’ve been flying, but standing made it too hard to chase subspace.

George went back to fucking me and teasing at my body like he was going to keep me on edge for as long as he wanted. It wasn’t up to me. It wasn’t under my control. It was incredible. He kept me shaking, the pleasure just out of reach until the water started to cool and the tub couldn’t drain fast enough with him blocking most of the pipe.

When he finally let me come, it was like fireworks exploded inside of me. His grip tightened around my cock, and he pulsed around it so it was almost like I was fucking someone, but the limb up my ass was a clear reminder about who was fucking who.

One last pinch to my nipple and I was gone. Wave after wave of explosions rocketed through me, and he kept it going until I was drained and beyond. My cock was so sensitive that every touch was too much, but I couldn’t find the words to beg him to stop because the pleasure just kept going.

I didn’t know how long he would have kept going if my legs would have kept me upright. Once they started to wobble, he slowly started working his tentacle out of my ass and carefully making sure I could stand.

He really was a nice guy.

That was about all my brain could acknowledge at the moment.

Fuck. I was going to have to go out with him.

As he pulled away down the drain and I reached for the faucet to turn off the rapidly cooling water, I sighed. “One date. That’s it.”

The hum of pleasure that vibrated through the floor was unmistakable.

Gloating asshole.

“And it better not be that wiggly fish pizza.”

One last caress of my foot and he was out of my shower. If he hadn’t shown up in every pipe in the building, I would have thought I was being played, but after he’d accidentally ended up coming out of Mrs. Hannity’s tub, I’d given up thinking he was doing it on purpose.

She was eighty and no one, not even Mr. Hannity, wanted that image in their head.

As I stumbled out of the shower and grabbed a towel, all I wanted to do was curl up and go to sleep. Wiping myself down just enough that I wouldn’t drip all over the floor, I tossed the towel on the counter and slowly made my way to the bedroom.

Throwing myself down on the bed, utterly spent, I yawned and closed my eyes. He’d better not be boring or an ass, because after sex like that, I was ready to keep the guy. As sleep crashed over me, the wicked images of everything he could do with the rest of his limbs ran through my head. Oh yeah, it would be a crime if it didn’t work out.

Want to read the rest?

He knows better…but he can’t help himself.

Dating someone who lives next door is a disaster waiting to happen. Cameron knows better than to agree to date the sexy new alien that’s moved into his apartment building. Just because George is confident and persistent doesn’t mean it would be a good idea. It also doesn’t mean that George understands what Cameron is really looking for in a partner…a Dom who can push him right to the edge.

Aliens landing and asking for asylum was supposed to be the plot of a sci-fi movie, not a sexy romance that’s hotter than anything on cable. But maybe the Dom of his dreams won’t come in the package Cameron always expected. Maybe Mr. Right has tentacles.

Author's Note:

While the heat level in this story is higher than some of my books, and there are tentacles involved, it is very much a sweet romance at heart.