[He seems to find that amusing. He smudges out a rune, furrowing his brow, fidgeting his bony legs restlessly as Alex beaches herself next to an orca that wiggles and keens in wide-mouthed pleasure. She hopes that Alex will pet her tongue.]
This is tougher than I thought it would be. I think it'll look right, but... it's possible that the result could be unexpected.
[If it's not a chicken costume or a sumo suit, he thinks he can live with it. It's just Alex, after all.]
[ She can’t even answer that, looking at him pitifully over her shoulder. Linden teasing her was such a rare thing.
Remembering why she had her back to him, she faces Cerise again, carefully reaching to touch the orca’s tongue. This was her first time doing so…such an interesting feeling. ]
[Orca tongues are certainly interesting, even alien in their slimy strength. Cerise is sweet, gentle, unassuming, lapping up all the affection Alex might have to offer.
L meets her eyes briefly over his own shoulder, his own bony white ass on full display. Not exactly his greatest asset; not exactly what he wants shown. No matter; his body is a human one, not tremendously irregular, not a trespass. He's here because she asked him to be. If parts of him could be used as a weapon, they are guarded with hunching posture, shameful thoughts.
He's never been with a woman, never lain with a woman. The Merrow's form and figure (and even sex) are alien to him. Not unattractive; maybe that's the worst problem, that he's bisexual, and feeling it at times like these.]
We will.
[Innocuous enough, and his illusion manifests and takes form. it's gorgeous, detailed, careful. It's also wholly inaccurate, because a diving suit would look different. There's more white to this one, more thickness. It's a spacesuit, and L is blinking and staring in his rounded glass helmet as the costume takes form around him.
Does Alex remember an interest in astronomy and space? Is he betraying himself this way? He doesn't know yet, because he thinks he's manifested a diving suit, after all.]
[ She doesn’t look away, her gaze steady, non-threatening, but unlike a predator watching something to play with. But she holds herself back, her hands busy with minding Cerise. The merrow remembers how light Linden was. How easy would it be to toss him around…
But any of those more feral thoughts get thrown out, her head tilting to the side when he suddenly takes the form of… ]
["Close enough" happens to be a bit of a disaster, on a physical level. L makes a small noise in the back of his throat.]
We can...
[And what he means by this is something difficult, excruciating. She doesn't realize, clearly, what she is, and what she can do to a man.]
The question, I think, is whether or not you want to.
[He does, but that goes without saying. He is a dog; he is disgusting. He will ride shamelessly at full mast, against her thigh should she draw so close, hard and hungry. Help him; hinder him. He'd rather sink into the abyss, this way.]
[ Her expression seems to show innocence, though the gleam in her eyes says different, along with how she settles herself right between his legs, her fingers pushing the helmet cover upwards to lock her gaze with his.
Something about Linden made this so…easy. Or maybe just more tempting. His reactions were amusing, always so used to his more collected self behind a book and table. But this was Alex’s area of expertise, one that blended so well with her more merrow-like tendencies.
She smiles, almost teasingly up at him. Was he still talking about just staying? ]
Why wouldn’t I…? But wouldn’t it be stuffy in this?
[ She’s not making it any clearer herself, her other hand now trailing down to his shoulder to try and feel the fabric of the suit. ]
[The suit has no fabric; it's all an illusion, reliant on the charity of one who would not dare to touch and stroke.
He shudders against her, for his skin is bare, his desire exposed for all who would dare to brush against it, awaken it, challenge it.]
Surely, you wouldn't.
[He groans as much, as his fingers curl between their bodies, his own naked and unobstructed. He is not familiar with the Merrow, or even the human female form. His touch is searching, exploratory. There must be some point of pleasure he can brush.]
[ It surprised her when her fingers seem to go right past his ‘clothes’, her fingers coming in to contact with a boney shoulder. He’d filled out a bit since the first time they met. Though it took some time until he’d allow such subtle touches.
But now here he was, reaching out towards her. Albeit awkwardly, though she doesn’t laugh at him for it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she tries to draw a line. There were too many things that could complicate this. But her instincts, strong as they were during this time of year, were drawn to a fondness and attraction that had already been there, slowly nurtured over the past year.
Her other hand rests on top of his as he fumbles by her tail, bringing it higher to press her cheek against his palm. Subtly, she tries to show him where to start, how to build up to it. ]
You don’t believe that I like spending time with you?
[ Her head turns to nuzzle his hand, lips brushing against cool skin. Surely just this much would be fine. ]
[Alex is sweet, if this is her approach, her conclusion, that men are content with what is "fine."
The flats of his fingers' blades search, as though it's a harder and hungrier member, craving to plunge into contours, exploring, curling and caressing.]
I do believe it...
[Now, more than ever, when he could drown easily, or in his mind's eye, haul the half-fish onto the bank, pound her into sand, press and squeeze against her until they were both gasping for breath.
Is it OK...
He takes a calming, careful breath, trying to pretend that her lips against his hand is fine. Enough. Sufficient to calm everything else in this moment, this pool.]
[ At least, she thought that was enough. But the witch just had to start caressing the side of her face, something she couldn’t help but angle her head and lean into. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, her finned ears twitching at the sensation of his fingers exploring a sensitive area.
He really wasn’t making this easy for her…or maybe too easy. She could practically smell the desire he exuded, but she wanted to be sure. Or maybe she enjoyed seeing his restrained reactions.
The merrow catches his thumb between her lips, sharp teeth pressing lightly before she sucks at the digit gently, eyes locked onto his the whole while before letting him go with a pop. ]
Really?
[ Again, an expression that hides her own hunger, all the while dragging his hand down her neck, over her collarbone, then lower still till he’s pressed against her breast. The merrow leans in closer again, barely an inch for him helmet. ]
Then when will you take this off?
[ What felt like a symbol of rejection, how he hid himself from her, like he didn’t want her to see. ]
[How much of it is earnest? How much informed by professional experience, for one who once made a living by stirring desire? There's a delicate sharpness to Alex's ears, something transfixing about the way light shines through the webbed membrane... but is there time to reflect on it?
And indeed, there will be time, to wonder "do I dare?" Shreds of a poem he had committed to memory years ago, difficult, somehow, to put in order with his typical crystal clarity. Everything is moving so quickly; the way Alex's teeth prick into his thumb followed by the indulgent, pressing swirl and suck of her mouth is an unsubtle reminder that she could be doing this elsewhere. He knows; he has come to rely on a deft and adept tongue on the rare occasions he finds himself in a position to be someone's lover, because his mouth is like anyone else's.
The rest of him is stunted, narrow, something to be concealed whenever possible. He's whittled himself down to an acceptable apology, so that anyone might believe he needs anything before the kind of attention Alex is giving him now. A hot meal, a warm blanket, a kind word; cheap things, reasonable things that no one would miss or resent.
He glances over his shoulder at his runes. Rubbing them away would dissolve his illusion, but it's the bit of decency he's clinging to at this juncture. Symbolic at best, he knows; Alex can touch him, after all, pared nearly to bone, parts of him that may have grown more had they been given the proper chance in a very different life.
He's reluctant. Scarcely a man, because while no one would hold it against a prisoner, what kind of man does this to himself?
Her breast might as well be the burner of a hot stove. Is his breath coming more quickly because he's aroused, or afraid? L does not compete where he has no hope of comparing, typically. This is out of his wheelhouse, this is difficult.]
[ His words do bring pause, but her expression turns thoughtful. Sure enough, it’s not as if she couldn’t touch right through the illusion, as his clothes proved. But his hesitation has her considering other aspects about all this. His interest in her was surprising enough, which she might’ve mistaken for eagerness and comfortability. But Linden didn’t reach out to her like this normally, awkward in a way that she had found endearing.
Maybe she was too accustomed to the speed of others, even thinking that she was moving slowly as is.
But merrows were patient when needed, and without the full moon even more so. And if he thought his space suit was more appealing than his own body…that was a whole other issue. One that she wasn’t going to leave unaddressed.
Releasing his hand, she cups both of her own onto the sides of his face, waiting to see what the illusion would do from there, which she hopes is a better view of his face. ]
[Their trust had been built brick-by-brick, and slowly, much like the trust L has for Myr. That makes it stronger, though, able to weather the types of setbacks that just tend to happen unavoidably with L.
She probably thinks you're some kind of pervert, who can only have sex while dressed like an astronaut. Probably better to let this one go, quickly...
He reaches back, swiping a hand slowly over the sand. Angles and blades are everywhere; in spite of those who care enough to feed him regularly, L's flesh keeps none of his skeleton's secrets. All of it hangs on a spine that's curved forward, painful and awkward. Cerise, half-beached, turns toward him, watching silently as if gauging whether he's going to try to dive behind her any moment.
He doesn't. He can be a brave man, even if others might overlook that until they know what he's afraid of, and how he's acting in spite of it.
Alright; OK.
Face cupped in Alex's hands, he nods briskly, considering how much to say, whether he should.]
I've never-
[Been with a woman, learned how to please them, felt a body or hands this soft.]
[ So many things could follow after those words right now, for both of them even.
She shakes her head, squeezing his face just a bit more. ]
What do you want to do?
[ That’s what mattered. Small steps, baby steps, she’s alright with moving at his pace. Though she’s also willing to gently push him out of his comfort zone. ]
[He's not sure what his comfort zone even is. The SQUIP pushed him to perform in ways he never would have, naturally. His experiences with Mello were likewise hardly typical.]
I want--
[What? Is it a trick? Will she hear what he wishes for and recoil in disgust at his entitlement, his delusions?]
I want to know? What it's like, how I can...
[Not be this, broken, inadequate, fractured pieces of a male who never quite became a man.
Take me home.]
I've... been with men, before. I know what men like. I like women, but... I don't know what women like. Could you...
[Their mouths are so close. He knows how to kiss, tender and long. He knows that even if his jawline is satin-smooth from any trace of stubble, no partner will consider that a drawback.
He nods. Their lips brush each other's.]
Yes...
[He shifts his lap between them. It's something that feels separate from him, firm, under pressure, wanting to nudge itself blindly into someplace dark and warm. He could lift her, and bring her down again, and again. Would he feel whole, after all?
Never, no. Not you.]
I'm fine.
[Another nod. Resolute, firm. Is it as convincing as he intends it to be?]
[ That’s all she needs to hear before sealing his lips with her own, pressured but not too forceful. She lets it linger, enjoying the small transfer of magic, the warmth of his touch.
A soft sight escapes her as she shifts closer, changing the angle of her head, her tongue teasing the seam of his lips to deepen it. ]
[He tenses against her when their faces are in contact, more than brushing glances. This is territory he knows, is familiar with; though he's only ever kissed men, whose tastes skew his androgynous and delicate direction, mouths are not so different. Alex's lips are fuller, though, plump and pillowy. She smells like sun and sea spray, not so dissimilar to the way Cerise's favorite places smell, and perhaps that means something?
He rocks against her, pushing before he realizes it, coaxing her backwards in a direction that would result in her shoulderblades against the warm sand. Instinctively, he reaches for a member that does not exist, and the heel of his hand settles beneath her stomach, pressing, kneading. He wants guidance; his other hand searches for hers, inquiring and joining.
[ The sudden assertiveness catches her by surprise, but not something she’s against. Her arms slide behind him, allowing him to push her down as she pulls him closer. At the same time, her tail moves against him, pressing between his legs and flush against his hips.
She feels the hand pressing down on her, having a general idea of what he might be looking for. Taking his hand in hers, she guides him towards where he slit hid beneath her scales. It’s not as prominent yet, but he could still feel it, needing a bit more coaxing to be make itself more prominent and ready for him.]
[She's easy enough to push down; is it because he's really so much stronger, or because she's letting him? Does it matter?
It's nice, down here, pressing flush against the Merrow's flesh and scales. He wants to press deeper, hungry, more....
He is immediately attentive when she takes his hand, guides him, moves him towards a place that parts. He glances briefly toward her face before lowering his eyes again, kissing, tongue passing against her upper lip, pressing their bellies flush.
Cerise plays, blithely, in the waves offshore.
He rubs, presses, explores with the longest digit on his right hand, circling the area she guided him towards. It's rough, at first, and scaled. It could be seamless, if she wasn't engaging him this way, but he notices the way it interrupts the smooth symmetry of her tail. He would ordinarily shift and drop, for a man, take an unresponsive appendage into his mouth to rouse and awaken it... but having never given oral to a woman or a mer, he's not sure where to start.
He has an idea. He kisses fervently, and presses a questioning finger against her, looking for folds and secrets, petals, caverns.]
[ An emboldened Linden was intriguing to her, but she’s too lost in the kiss to think too much on it. She chooses to relish it instead, her tongue meeting his own, drowning soft moans.
His finger teases along the slit of her tail, more experimental than deliberate. The scales start to part slowly, exposing softer flesh below, more sensitive as her back arches off the sand.
The water is calmer here, gently washing over them as they move against the bank, cooling the heat building slowly building up within her. The merrow lets one hand tangle in wet, black hair, the other slipping between them to feel for and wrap around the length of his cock, finding a steady rhythm. ]
[There's something nearly adolescent about the encounter, where L is concerned; this kind of fumbling foreplay never happened for him, when he was younger. There were never peers to engage in it with. He's caught up quite a lot, since, but in fairness to him, it's not like a boy from his world was likely to encounter a mermaid at all, much less in this way.
Only in songs and poems and fever dreams, after many long days nights at sea.
He stiffens as she touches him, his entire body going tense and rigid as she grasps and strokes an appetite that requires no coaxing. Gradually, his braced limbs soften against her, melting as if the water lapping against them has soothed the anxious moment. The worst is over, if she's held his delusional and impudent arousal in her hand, and still seems to want him.
He tries to let the whispering rush of the waves and the salty, seaweed-scented breeze etch it from his thoughts, the notion that fondness and pity inspire her to pretend for his sake.
He bucks and presses forward into her hand, not immune to instinct and the pace it sets. Not nearly as sure, he smooths a hand against scales that seem to soften, open and invite as Alex, herself, awakens to the shared desire between them.]
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[He seems to find that amusing. He smudges out a rune, furrowing his brow, fidgeting his bony legs restlessly as Alex beaches herself next to an orca that wiggles and keens in wide-mouthed pleasure. She hopes that Alex will pet her tongue.]
This is tougher than I thought it would be. I think it'll look right, but... it's possible that the result could be unexpected.
[If it's not a chicken costume or a sumo suit, he thinks he can live with it. It's just Alex, after all.]
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Remembering why she had her back to him, she faces Cerise again, carefully reaching to touch the orca’s tongue. This was her first time doing so…such an interesting feeling. ]
I guess we’ll find out?
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L meets her eyes briefly over his own shoulder, his own bony white ass on full display. Not exactly his greatest asset; not exactly what he wants shown. No matter; his body is a human one, not tremendously irregular, not a trespass. He's here because she asked him to be. If parts of him could be used as a weapon, they are guarded with hunching posture, shameful thoughts.
He's never been with a woman, never lain with a woman. The Merrow's form and figure (and even sex) are alien to him. Not unattractive; maybe that's the worst problem, that he's bisexual, and feeling it at times like these.]
We will.
[Innocuous enough, and his illusion manifests and takes form. it's gorgeous, detailed, careful. It's also wholly inaccurate, because a diving suit would look different. There's more white to this one, more thickness. It's a spacesuit, and L is blinking and staring in his rounded glass helmet as the costume takes form around him.
Does Alex remember an interest in astronomy and space? Is he betraying himself this way? He doesn't know yet, because he thinks he's manifested a diving suit, after all.]
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But any of those more feral thoughts get thrown out, her head tilting to the side when he suddenly takes the form of… ]
An astronaut?
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That's not what it was supposed to be, but... if it's the same...
[A cowardly cop-out, perhaps, for one subconsciously hoping]
I hope you'll just take me home.
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Already?
[ A scaled hand reaches up to lightly tap on the glass. ]
Can’t we stay a bit longer?
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We can...
[And what he means by this is something difficult, excruciating. She doesn't realize, clearly, what she is, and what she can do to a man.]
The question, I think, is whether or not you want to.
[He does, but that goes without saying. He is a dog; he is disgusting. He will ride shamelessly at full mast, against her thigh should she draw so close, hard and hungry. Help him; hinder him. He'd rather sink into the abyss, this way.]
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Something about Linden made this so…easy. Or maybe just more tempting. His reactions were amusing, always so used to his more collected self behind a book and table. But this was Alex’s area of expertise, one that blended so well with her more merrow-like tendencies.
She smiles, almost teasingly up at him. Was he still talking about just staying? ]
Why wouldn’t I…? But wouldn’t it be stuffy in this?
[ She’s not making it any clearer herself, her other hand now trailing down to his shoulder to try and feel the fabric of the suit. ]
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He shudders against her, for his skin is bare, his desire exposed for all who would dare to brush against it, awaken it, challenge it.]
Surely, you wouldn't.
[He groans as much, as his fingers curl between their bodies, his own naked and unobstructed. He is not familiar with the Merrow, or even the human female form. His touch is searching, exploratory. There must be some point of pleasure he can brush.]
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But now here he was, reaching out towards her. Albeit awkwardly, though she doesn’t laugh at him for it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she tries to draw a line. There were too many things that could complicate this. But her instincts, strong as they were during this time of year, were drawn to a fondness and attraction that had already been there, slowly nurtured over the past year.
Her other hand rests on top of his as he fumbles by her tail, bringing it higher to press her cheek against his palm. Subtly, she tries to show him where to start, how to build up to it. ]
You don’t believe that I like spending time with you?
[ Her head turns to nuzzle his hand, lips brushing against cool skin. Surely just this much would be fine. ]
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The flats of his fingers' blades search, as though it's a harder and hungrier member, craving to plunge into contours, exploring, curling and caressing.]
I do believe it...
[Now, more than ever, when he could drown easily, or in his mind's eye, haul the half-fish onto the bank, pound her into sand, press and squeeze against her until they were both gasping for breath.
Is it OK...
He takes a calming, careful breath, trying to pretend that her lips against his hand is fine. Enough. Sufficient to calm everything else in this moment, this pool.]
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He really wasn’t making this easy for her…or maybe too easy. She could practically smell the desire he exuded, but she wanted to be sure. Or maybe she enjoyed seeing his restrained reactions.
The merrow catches his thumb between her lips, sharp teeth pressing lightly before she sucks at the digit gently, eyes locked onto his the whole while before letting him go with a pop. ]
Really?
[ Again, an expression that hides her own hunger, all the while dragging his hand down her neck, over her collarbone, then lower still till he’s pressed against her breast. The merrow leans in closer again, barely an inch for him helmet. ]
Then when will you take this off?
[ What felt like a symbol of rejection, how he hid himself from her, like he didn’t want her to see. ]
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And indeed, there will be time, to wonder "do I dare?" Shreds of a poem he had committed to memory years ago, difficult, somehow, to put in order with his typical crystal clarity. Everything is moving so quickly; the way Alex's teeth prick into his thumb followed by the indulgent, pressing swirl and suck of her mouth is an unsubtle reminder that she could be doing this elsewhere. He knows; he has come to rely on a deft and adept tongue on the rare occasions he finds himself in a position to be someone's lover, because his mouth is like anyone else's.
The rest of him is stunted, narrow, something to be concealed whenever possible. He's whittled himself down to an acceptable apology, so that anyone might believe he needs anything before the kind of attention Alex is giving him now. A hot meal, a warm blanket, a kind word; cheap things, reasonable things that no one would miss or resent.
He glances over his shoulder at his runes. Rubbing them away would dissolve his illusion, but it's the bit of decency he's clinging to at this juncture. Symbolic at best, he knows; Alex can touch him, after all, pared nearly to bone, parts of him that may have grown more had they been given the proper chance in a very different life.
He's reluctant. Scarcely a man, because while no one would hold it against a prisoner, what kind of man does this to himself?
Her breast might as well be the burner of a hot stove. Is his breath coming more quickly because he's aroused, or afraid? L does not compete where he has no hope of comparing, typically. This is out of his wheelhouse, this is difficult.]
You... don't think it would spoil the mood?
[L's so good at it. He probably just did.]
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Maybe she was too accustomed to the speed of others, even thinking that she was moving slowly as is.
But merrows were patient when needed, and without the full moon even more so. And if he thought his space suit was more appealing than his own body…that was a whole other issue. One that she wasn’t going to leave unaddressed.
Releasing his hand, she cups both of her own onto the sides of his face, waiting to see what the illusion would do from there, which she hopes is a better view of his face. ]
I prefer seeing you.
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She probably thinks you're some kind of pervert, who can only have sex while dressed like an astronaut. Probably better to let this one go, quickly...
He reaches back, swiping a hand slowly over the sand. Angles and blades are everywhere; in spite of those who care enough to feed him regularly, L's flesh keeps none of his skeleton's secrets. All of it hangs on a spine that's curved forward, painful and awkward. Cerise, half-beached, turns toward him, watching silently as if gauging whether he's going to try to dive behind her any moment.
He doesn't. He can be a brave man, even if others might overlook that until they know what he's afraid of, and how he's acting in spite of it.
Alright; OK.
Face cupped in Alex's hands, he nods briskly, considering how much to say, whether he should.]
I've never-
[Been with a woman, learned how to please them, felt a body or hands this soft.]
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She shakes her head, squeezing his face just a bit more. ]
What do you want to do?
[ That’s what mattered. Small steps, baby steps, she’s alright with moving at his pace. Though she’s also willing to gently push him out of his comfort zone. ]
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I want--
[What? Is it a trick? Will she hear what he wishes for and recoil in disgust at his entitlement, his delusions?]
I want to know? What it's like, how I can...
[Not be this, broken, inadequate, fractured pieces of a male who never quite became a man.
Take me home.]
I've... been with men, before. I know what men like. I like women, but... I don't know what women like. Could you...
[Show me? Tell me?]
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Everyone’s different. But generally…we like to build up.
[ Drawing him closer, she stops her lips just a hairsbreadth away from his own. ]
Are you okay…?
[ with me?
He knows, so he has more of a choice. ]
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He nods. Their lips brush each other's.]
Yes...
[He shifts his lap between them. It's something that feels separate from him, firm, under pressure, wanting to nudge itself blindly into someplace dark and warm. He could lift her, and bring her down again, and again. Would he feel whole, after all?
Never, no. Not you.]
I'm fine.
[Another nod. Resolute, firm. Is it as convincing as he intends it to be?]
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A soft sight escapes her as she shifts closer, changing the angle of her head, her tongue teasing the seam of his lips to deepen it. ]
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He rocks against her, pushing before he realizes it, coaxing her backwards in a direction that would result in her shoulderblades against the warm sand. Instinctively, he reaches for a member that does not exist, and the heel of his hand settles beneath her stomach, pressing, kneading. He wants guidance; his other hand searches for hers, inquiring and joining.
Like this?]
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She feels the hand pressing down on her, having a general idea of what he might be looking for. Taking his hand in hers, she guides him towards where he slit hid beneath her scales. It’s not as prominent yet, but he could still feel it, needing a bit more coaxing to be make itself more prominent and ready for him.]
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It's nice, down here, pressing flush against the Merrow's flesh and scales. He wants to press deeper, hungry, more....
He is immediately attentive when she takes his hand, guides him, moves him towards a place that parts. He glances briefly toward her face before lowering his eyes again, kissing, tongue passing against her upper lip, pressing their bellies flush.
Cerise plays, blithely, in the waves offshore.
He rubs, presses, explores with the longest digit on his right hand, circling the area she guided him towards. It's rough, at first, and scaled. It could be seamless, if she wasn't engaging him this way, but he notices the way it interrupts the smooth symmetry of her tail. He would ordinarily shift and drop, for a man, take an unresponsive appendage into his mouth to rouse and awaken it... but having never given oral to a woman or a mer, he's not sure where to start.
He has an idea. He kisses fervently, and presses a questioning finger against her, looking for folds and secrets, petals, caverns.]
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His finger teases along the slit of her tail, more experimental than deliberate. The scales start to part slowly, exposing softer flesh below, more sensitive as her back arches off the sand.
The water is calmer here, gently washing over them as they move against the bank, cooling the heat building slowly building up within her. The merrow lets one hand tangle in wet, black hair, the other slipping between them to feel for and wrap around the length of his cock, finding a steady rhythm. ]
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Only in songs and poems and fever dreams, after many long days nights at sea.
He stiffens as she touches him, his entire body going tense and rigid as she grasps and strokes an appetite that requires no coaxing. Gradually, his braced limbs soften against her, melting as if the water lapping against them has soothed the anxious moment. The worst is over, if she's held his delusional and impudent arousal in her hand, and still seems to want him.
He tries to let the whispering rush of the waves and the salty, seaweed-scented breeze etch it from his thoughts, the notion that fondness and pity inspire her to pretend for his sake.
He bucks and presses forward into her hand, not immune to instinct and the pace it sets. Not nearly as sure, he smooths a hand against scales that seem to soften, open and invite as Alex, herself, awakens to the shared desire between them.]
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