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Cecil wasn't coming out of the bathroom. Carlos had finished his shower long ago, made dinner, and was now waiting patiently on the couch for his boyfriend to finish up whatever he was doing. The water had stopped running, so Carlos could determine Cecil was no longer cleaning himself up. The scientist had grown quite anxious about his lack of a lover, so he caved and opted to check up on the man boarded up in the lavatory.
"Cecil? Are you all right in there, mi querido?" Carlos called from the other side of the door, his ears faintly picking up the softest whimper imaginable. "Babe? I'm coming in." Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and Carlos could push it open with ease.
"No! Carlos-" but it was too late. They had already made eye contact and Carlos was utterly hypnotized by the sight before him. It was… confusing, to say the least; but like everything else in Night Vale, the confusion is often beautiful. The tattoos, which were usually black, were now bright violet in some places and deep plum in others. It added so much depth to the tentacle, spiral, and geometric images dancing up Cecil's arms. The thing that took Carlos' breath away was the fact that the tattoos were literally, not metaphorically, moving.
"Have-" Carlos choked on his own words, mouth going dry at the sight of Cecil's forearm muscles flexing rhythmically. "Have you always had this… feature?" He rasped through an arousal-tinted haze. Cecil gripped both of his wrists close to his chest and turned away from the prying eyes.
"K-kind of. Only sometimes. It rarely happens anymore. It's just acting up and-" Cecil half explained everything breathlessly, clearly panicking and embarrassed. "And it wants something that I can not give it." Tears brimmed in his eyes, emotion welling up like carbonation in a shaken soda can. "I'm sorry, Carlos."
"Firstly, are you hurt?" Carlos asks, receiving a shake of the head in response. "Alright, that's good. Why are you sorry? You know I've seen way weirder shit in this town." The Burnett crossed the tiled floor to lay a hand on Cecil's shoulder, only to be dodged and left with an outstretched hand. His artificially blonde soulmate had never reacted to his touch in such a way; the visceral reaction left Carlos visibly distraught.
"That's the point. Night Vale is a lot, and I know it overwhelms you at times so- so I did not want this to happen. I am supposed to be your normal. Your constant. And I'm not avoiding you, Carlos, I swear." Cecil's eyes look at his lover with an underlying plea, his breath increasing in pace as he was getting worked up. "I just cant touch you because it wants to..." He looked at the ground as if the words to the rest of his sentence lay on the floor like a wounded animal.
"What does it want, mi querido? You can tell me." Carlos implores, his hand going to touch Cecil again. This time, he did not reach for the exposed shoulder that peaked out from his boyfriend's far-too-large sleep shirt. Instead, Carlos placed his hand on Cecil's lower back, the fabric of the T-shirt between their bodies like an unspoken rule.
"It… it wants more space. I don't have enough skin for it, so… it's antsy, you could say; it makes me… queasy… overstimulated." Cecil seems to subconsciously accentuate this by reaching up to rub lightly at a tentacle inked beneath the flesh of his neck. It squirmed at the touch and attempted to move from Cecil's neck to his fingertips, only to be met with pushback from the lively graphics already there. In almost an act of defiance from not having enough space to spread out, the violet tentacle reached up to encroach on the unmarked skin of Cecil's face.
"I have some skin and not a single tattoo on my body for the little guys to argue with." Carlos offers with a small smile. He could see how frustrated his boyfriend was and only wanted to help lighten his mood. "If it disturbs you to share that with me, then you don't have to. I can draw the curtains in the bedroom, make you some tea, and we can wait this thing out together." The proposed routine was extremely familiar to them. Carlos would receive this treatment when Night Vale became too much for his mortal brain to comprehend, and Cecil would partake whenever his third eye wouldn't tune out the radio tower's endless flow of broadcasts.
After some careful contemplating, Cecil replied. "I think I'll just go to the bedroom and lie down. You don't want to feel this right now." He assured with full confidence in the statement.
They made their way to the bedroom with its black-out curtains and queen-sized bed. The pair had thought about upgrading to a king but figured there would be too much wasted space since they practically slept on top of each other. Once Cecil was cloaked in darkness and blankets, Carlos replied to the last comment made. "I've been uncomfortable before. It's not like I'm neurotypical or anything."
Cecil let out a heavy sigh. "I know, but… If you were to take it in, the experience would be much different." Even through the darkness, Carlos could see the blush on Cecil's face. This was also mainly due to the glowing violet swirls dancing along the stiff man's skin like water. It turned the radio host into a breathing, anxious glowstick. "It only makes me slightly uncomfortable because I've grown accustomed to the feeling. If it were to crawl onto you, it would get excited... to say the very least."
"Are you saying that the tentacles would want to fuck me? Like in hentai?" Carlos tried not to laugh, he did, but the chuckle leaked through his teeth nonetheless. Cecil did not favor this, and immediately retorted with a scowl.
"No, Carlos. Not like in hentai. They are 2-dimensional, might I remind you! It doesn't want to 'fuck you', similarly to how I don't necessarily want to. It's a part of me, so we share the same morals and mindset. There will be no penetration whatsoever." Cecil said with finality.
"From what I'm gathering, you talk about the tattoos like they are separate beings because they have a mind of their own, similarly to how people with Tourettes have a persona for their ticks." Carlos utilized the extent of his psychological course from college. "And if I were to receive some of the extensions of you, I would feel pleasure because you want to see me in pleasure. Although it would not actively try to bring me to the brink, because you are uncomfortable taking that step physically. Correct me if I'm wrong."
Cecil stays silent for a moment, his hands raising to the growing inky patterns that illuminate up to his jawline. One tentacle even had the will to slither behind Cecil's ear and across his cheekbone. "No, that's not wrong… It's completely right." The blankets were pulled tighter around Cecil, the fabric appearing to slither from the shifting light-covered hands. His violet eyes stared blankly at the sheets, a single strain of sanity left in his soul. "Carlos… I-... I am very hesitant to get intimate in any way when such an influence is involved. Please, please get out right now if you are uncomfortable. I can feel it pulling towards you and I am so, so close to just grabbing you."
"I'm not leaving." Carlos sits in his place firmly, swinging his legs onto the bed to get comfy. He wasn't on the Asexual spectrum, unlike Cecil, so nothing about this frightened him. He was prepared to feel a little turned on; heck, Carlos was usually horny whenever Cecil was within a fifteen-mile radius. He was byfar the sexiest man ever in the scientists eyes. "Take your shirt off, mi querido."
Cecil complied wordlessly. First the blankets, then the shirt were shed to reveal every square inch of the blonde's tattooed flesh. The patterns have become so tightly packed together, squirming in what seems like agony. Cecil kept his leggings on and his hair in a ponytail, not entirely in the mood to be exposed. He then turned his elbows at a 90-degree angle, palms faced upward and stiff. Carlos stripped down to his briefs, ready to receive whatever sensation Cecil desired to subconsciously bestow upon him.
"I'm going to place my hands on yours slowly. Just breathe, baby." Carlos exhales slowly, his palms descending till they lay on Cecil's. It was an immediate feeling, a sharp, tantalizing, mind-numbing wave that crashed across Carlos' entire being. It left his mouth open, jaw slack in pleasure. "O-Oh fuck." Carlos moans shamelessly as his body becomes a slave to the feeling; to the inky lines that snake over his arms instantly.
Cecil exhales shakily in relief as the pressure is relieved from under his skin. Sadly, this sensation from both sides only lasted a couple of seconds. Carlos retracts his hands swiftly, inhaling cold air as if it will grant him access to heaven. "W-why did you stop?" Cecil asks, his eyes begging for that liberating feeling to return once more. All of the tentacles and patterns whipped back over to Cecil's arms, enraged at being compressed back into the compressed space.
"It- it was just way more intense than I expected." He replied, voice quivering. With that, Carlos grabbed a white pillow from the head of the bed and positioned it between his thighs, his knees placed firmly into the mattress. "Alright, I'm ready." Carlos braces himself for the inevitable as their skin connects again. This time, when the overwhelming bliss courses through Carlos' being, he counters it by grinding down on the pillow. The tension caused by the tendrils blooming against his skin was received as it was given, resulting in the most orgasmic moment of Carlos' life.
"C-Cecil- oh god. Ah! F-fuuuck~" Carlos' eyes rolled upward uncontrollably. The rutting of his hips could only increase in speed and pressure, leaving his mind a white slate of nothing but ecstasy. He barely registered the words that Cecil sighed out in his own brain-melted haze.
"That… huh- that's it, darling. You're doing so well. J-just ride it out, my love." The luminescent marks on Cecil's chest were now divided among the two men, allowing Cecil to finally breathe. "They usually fade when they're satisfied with the amount of space provided… Fucking hell, you are a mess." He breathed out, all three of his purple eyes glowing with desire. It took a lot of raw emotion to bring out the third eye; Cecil was sure that the intense feeling was pure desire. Seeing Carlos with his marks brought out a whole new level of Cecil's claiming kink.
"It- Hng!- it feels so- fuck!" The scientist half sobs, his hard cock grinding down to subdue the burning hunger. "M-more." Carlos leans in, his hands gliding up Cecil's forearms while keeping them pressed flush together. "Yesyesyes-" With one swift motion, the Brunette smashed their torsos together. The ink shifted fully onto Carlos, then Cecil, then Carlos, and continued that cycle of confusion like sloshing water. The tentacles didn't know where to land and stay.
"Carlos! Carlos, can you please- you're going a little too fast for me- C-ah! Carlos, please back up!" Cecil was reliving that awkward feeling from his teenage days when the tattoos first began to surface, swirl, and elect erotic thoughts from him in the middle of the night. He could hear his mother screeching his name from down the hall, the door handles to his locked bedroom door jiggling as she tried to get in. She would tell him that he was monstrous; the thing he saw in the mirrors would kill him; and that this was unnatural; that he was an unholy sinner without a chance at redemption. The markings were surely placed there by god as a punishment. What else could they be?
Cecil felt so ashamed for liking the sensations that those once small tattoos brought. He shouldn't have layed paralyzed on his bed in euphoria; it was just wrong. Was he killing himself by doing this? His body was saying that this feeling was only the love that his brain wished to expel. The guilt was far heavier than the pleasure, so over time, it became less personal and more controlled.
Now, as an adult Cecil didnt veiw it as an act of "self-love". It was some other 'thing' doing this to him. He would control it. Never let others see, and try to be as normal as possible. Carlos knows that this does not change how normal Cecil is, right? Because in this very second they were dealing with the problem, and it in no way reflects an ounce of what he is like. Well, Carlos was the one dealing with this, actually. Cecil was just sitting there, zoning out and fucking reminiscing like an utter trainwreck.
The tattoos were fading, the blissful feeling on Carlos' face tightening as his climax came nearer. His hips were still thrusting into the mattress with vigor, eyebrows knitted tightly in arousal, and arms slung around Cecil's shoulders as the crest of his desire came in a blinding white light. "Yes! Oh C-Christ- Aah! Cecil~ I'm cuming- Fuck!"
Cecil didn't know when it ended. He just realized that for the first time in hours, he didn't feel like utter shit. Just partially now, but that was due to the gnawing guilt of feeling turned on again from the mysterious powers of his now motionless tattoos.
"Cecil? Are-... are you hard right now? Would you like me to help?" Carlos called softly with slight concern. He had never EVER seen Cecil Baldwin Palmer erect, so he did not know how to approach this situation whatsoever. "Or I can leave if you'd like."
"No, I'm okay. I… I think I'll just ignore it. Thank you for the offer though, Carlos. And the help. They-... I am still kind of buzzed." Cecil touched the black ink that was motionlessly pressed into his being. "It's me." He says like it's a new revolution. To Cecil himself, it kind of was new, like an old treasure you find while cleaning out the attic. Carlos was just confused. "These marks are a part of me. It's not some other thing lurking inside. Dispite everything, its still… me."
No more words were said that night. Cecil learned more about himself during that heated night and Carlos had unlocked a new side to his boyfriend. They slept missing one pillow, stomachs empty without dinner, yet with fuller hearts than they had started with. It was a weird, beautiful, messy, and irreplaceable night.