[ 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.]
[ She whispers against his ear as she presses kisses along his jaw. ]
Take your time. You can touch elsewhere too…
[ Linden was smart, a teacher, someone who seemed to learn quick. If he wanted to explore something for the first time, she’d allow him to, gently coaxing and caressing him along the way. ]
Pay attention to how the other person reacts.
[ As if she was separate from the experience, a mindset of being a tool or replacement for somebody still in the back of her mind. ]
[Her voice blends so gently with the sound of the water that he startles when he realizes it's separate, that she is speaking to him and offering suggestions and guidance.
No shame in not knowing, when you have no reason to know.
He nods, accepting readily, but now that they are both so keenly aware of it, will it seem as though he's a scientist meticulously surveying and studying her body if he moves his hands elsewhere? Swallowing, he lifts his left hand, formerly wasted at their sides to grip and knead at lifeless wet sand. He lets the next wave lick it clean, starting at the curve of Alex's hip, sliding up over the warm tan skin of her stomach, her ribs, coming to tentative momentary rest on her breastbone.
Familiar, a place he could touch on any lover, even if the swells of rounded, soft flesh flanking his pale and spindly hand are a new experience. Most of the breasts he's seen in person have been in a morgue, and there's a sudden impulse he acts on to lay his ear against her chest and listen to the sound of her heart and the movement of the air in her lungs as his own breath comes in shallow, quick puffs.
He's hard in her hand. It's the right time, the right context; the whole picture forms something right, not a numbered series of disparate cold pieces frozen on film. Her hand on his cock is not severed, there is no knife in her warm stomach, no rigor mortis in her lithe, graceful arms.
No thoughts, like this, in her gentle mind.
He's tense again, his cheek burning against her breast, warming it with shame. Better not to linger too long, here. He doesn't raise his face yet (so flushed, so transparent), but instead of grasping at her other breast to knead and caress it, his hand goes to rest against the side of her neck, the soft touch of two fingers against her pulse point.
His own breaths, finally, begin to deepen and slow. The vague panic subsides, pulling back like the ebb of the waves.]
Her chest rises with a deep breath as his hand tickles skin and scales, her gaze warm as she watches him feel her. It does surprise her when he suddenly presses his ear against her chest, not what most had done when they would lean into her this way. This felt so much more intimate than she expected, her free hand coming up to gently stroke the back of his neck, teasing his spine lightly.
She could quite literally feel where he was at, when he tensed, was uncertain, and then when he began to settle.
Her thumb brushed over the tip of his cock, doing so in intervals between stroking him slowly. But when his hand reaches for her neck, grazing over sensitive gills, she makes a small sound, her back arching slightly as small jolts of pleasure shoot through her nerves. ]
[There are so many dormant demons. L, master detective and decoder of humans, might not even realize all of them himself. Do they lie in wait, ready to pounce from the shadows, shrinking and softening him until he's as innocuous and docile as a starfish sprawled on the wet sand?
He thinks, often, of how his life might have been different. Likely not better, but different. That's not how it went, though; he's here, now, and his own disgusting doubt threatens the chance his body actively craves.
Shut it up, then...
He inhales sharply at her delicate and more pointed touch, the contrasting techniques adding a sudden new dimension to the contact between them. It serves to busy an active and restless mind, pull him from a crevice he could otherwise fall into and fail to recover from.
He notices, around the same time, that Alex seems to enjoy the tender touch at her neck. Recalling that he's supposed to be paying attention to reactions (and who's to say whether or not she's exaggerating so he can know, whether or not that matters when it seems basically sincere?), he raises himself on his elbow, moving up the length of her body over scales and skin and cradling the back of her head. He busies his mouth against the other side of her neck, kissing along the gills, sucking softly at the Merrow's sensitive skin.]
[ Another sound, a soft gasp as soon as his lips touch her neck, her hand stuttering mid stroke. Her back starts to arch off the sand more, pressing up against his torso while her other hand tightens in his hair.
Had his feelings shifted again? Was he feeling more comfortable? ]
[The way the tracks shift and clicks into place is deliberate, complete. L compartmentalizes, feels most able when he can ultimately separate and extract what he needs from the charred rubble of a difficult series of thoughts.
He feels like he has something separate, isolated, concentrated. The fingers of his left hand curl through the long, dark hair on the back of her neck, and the fingers of his right hand curl insistently elsewhere, against the parts of her tail that have perhaps softened and parted enough to yield for him, by now.
He doesn't think of Mello. Perhaps he should. Perhaps this will come back to sock him in the jaw when he least expects it, but he has long been vulnerable to Alex's kindness.]
[ She feels his fingers slip past soft flesh, stretching her slowly. Hot breath grazes his ear as she buries her face against the side of his head, her tail rolling up to urge him to go deeper. ]
That…feels nice..
[ Words of encouragement, something she hopes helps to pet him know he’s doing alright. Though it was strange being on the teaching end of things. ]
[The give feels sudden; two fingers are swallowed by heat and pressure, and he throbs in Alex's hand at the notion of where this could lead, what could follow. He presses deeper, burying his fingers past the second knuckle; her breathed encouragement assures him, at least, that this isn't painful.
The reversal is truly strange. For all that L slips naturally into the role of a teacher, though, he's equally eager to learn, equally willing to set aside ego and pretense when his knowledge and experience are lacking.
A kind of comprehension begins to dawn, an instinctive awareness of the way things move and work together, like riding a bicycle. His mouth is fine where it is, kissing along her neck. His left hand lowers to move a slow and careful circle at her breast, the fingers of his right hand continue to explore an elastic organ that stretches to accommodate, squeezes to reward pleasure.
His thumb brushes her; what he's searching for isn't immediately obvious, but he's persistent, attentive, certain that Alex will let him know if he's successful, guide him if the subtlety escapes him.]
[ His experimental way of exploring her almost felt teasing, even if that wasn’t his intention, her already more sensitive body and heightened desire making her ache for more while he moved at his pace. It wasn’t uncomfortable nor upsetting, but almost like waiting for delayed gratification.
She squeezes around his fingers, as if trying to swallow him in, to keep him inside of her. A soft whine comes from the back of her throat, shifting to a hummed moan when he does brush more sensitive nerves, hips bucking up to let him know he found what he was looking for. Her grip around his length tightens slightly, pumping him a little faster. ]
[Taking things slower is the right call, was from the beginning when Alex urged him to take his time with his exploration. Rushing is how people make mistakes, fumble where they wouldn't if they were just taking a few extra moments to appreciate how the experience might be new, and how it might actually be more familiar than they'd anticipated before they knew anything at all about it.
He doesn't withdraw; that tensing from the inside, combined with the soft keening sound, drive his long fingers deeper, to the point where the faint scars from their severing and reattachment are glancingly visible at best.
Maybe, now would be the last chance to really decide this isn't the best idea, that there's someone famous for his jealousy who might take issue with this union. The heat rises to his cheeks, flushing them as her hand moves faster along his shaft, urging him past a certain threshold. Not that one, yet, but at least the one where they could both easily pull back, laughing breathlessly, blaming the ambience of the sea and the sand and the soft and gentle mood of the day?
They could both go home blameless, no secrets to keep that were even worth calling secrets, then. Maybe, if the way she quivers and sighs and holds him so tightly didn't come from such a place of unassuming, encouraging gentleness.
He curls his fingers inside her, keeping his touch at her breast soft and careful as though it's some ripe fruit he's concerned about bruising. His knees, on either side of her tail, sink slightly as the water smooths the sand under them once more, and they're so close. They could join wetly, almost casually, they are so very close.
Whether or not they should seems a further question, scarcely a suggestion before it's snatched away on the breeze. They both want each other this way, and even L is convinced.]
[ A voice in the back of her head, the small bit not clouded by the instincts of her monster form, calls out to her, scolds her. Yes, M had said at the beginning that it didn’t matter what she did with whom, that wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. There was nothing wrong with what they were doing, but… Linden was such a sensitive topic for M. Someone Alex was so certain he had deep feelings for, even if he won’t say it out loud. Knowing that pricked at her heart, wondering how much this could hurt him. But what of her own feelings? The fondness for her teacher and friend that had built over the past few months. A connection formed through M, tended to and maintained because of his loss, but solidified because of their own time together. Their closeness was as natural emotionally as it was physically, just like their proximity now.
His hips were close enough for him to graze his length along her slit, though her hand doesn’t guide him just yet. Did Linden even want to go that far? His movements fluctuated between keen interest and uncertainty, desire and restraint. What if what happened between him and M happened with them?
But the more his fingers dove in, curled, and pleasured her, the more her greed was amplified by those feral instincts. She liked Linden, wanted to be closer to him, to feel good with him, to find that connection from their temporary bond in another way. But her hands slide to his shoulders over his shoulders, hugging him tight. She had every intention of making him feel good, to get him off if that’s what he wanted, but she’ll let him decide how. Though she might be urging a particular way with how she rolls her hips against his, grinding his tail against soft scales. Did he still doubt that she wanted him…? Because her doubts were fading away. ]
[L is likewise not technically tethered to anyone. He's admitted attraction to Myr, and accepted that it's not what's best for him at this time, if reluctantly. He's astonished at how much Light's very soul seems to pull at his, culminating in explosive physical chemistry that is definitely not what's best for him. Prospective romances who actually know him, the way a close friend or a Bond would, are aware that sex complicates him, makes him vulnerable, seems shackled with unspoken but highly palpable baggage and pitfalls. His history, beginning abruptly and intensely in Aefenglom a few months after his arrival, does not dispel the notion; getting this close to L was impossible, for years, for a reason. The potential to absolutely destroy him by offering a hand of friendship, the suggestion of kinship and mutual understanding, is one he responds to like a child led, willing to manufacture any trust he does not feel so he can feel a connection with another being, however brief.
Myr is terrified of this trust and the power it could give him over his Bonded. Light, doubtless, is well aware of how he could use it to his advantage. But Alex has no deeper knowledge, no ulterior motives, no reason to try and break him down this way. To her, he's just a slightly-starved man, a lonely friend, a teacher not inappropriately older she admires intellectually.
They're just getting to know each other better, in a world that rewards and encourages multiple connections of this sort. Whatever he might know in his heart, he can convince himself on an intellectual level that this is not inherently a betrayal of Mello.]
I... don't have any sort of prophylactic, or..
[His words are murmured quickly, hinting at sheepishness, enough to absolutely communicate the practical concern he has. He's never had reason to worry about being the cause of a pregnancy before.
He probably doesn't, now; in fact, he rather assumes his own sterility as a result of medically complicating his body's growth and sexual maturity for years. But it's a way, isn't it, of communicating what he wants, where he wants to venture next, an apology that's also a way of surreptitiously asking if she can hold him with the velvety heat of her body, the way she holds him with her arms.
The roll of her hips dislodges his fingers; his hand goes to the small of her back, a place where scales and skin blend into one another. He pulls her close, hides his face against her cheek. There's nothing in the way now; a shift of the hips from either of them could slot them neatly together, but there's something almost blessed about the pain of wanting, the ache unfolding his curled limbs and radiating blindly toward a goal.]
Oh. She’s assuming he means a condom? That’s usually what comes to mind at this point. Even now she’s learning things, something she smiles about to herself as she nuzzles against his face affectionately. Her fingers tuck some of wet strands of black hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ]
It’s okay…you don’t need it.
[ She doesn’t say this recklessly, of course. It seemed more than mere luck to not have been knocked up with what she’s done during her stay here. She could only assume that she’s unable to have any, whether that’s an effect of becoming a monster or having traveled worlds, Alex hadn’t thought about too much.
Cupping his cheek, she turns him to face her, letting the kiss linger a moment, relishing the mixed taste of salty water and sweets. ]
I don’t mind.
[ She reassures against his lips, blue eyes slowly opening to meet his. They were painfully close, mere threads of worries holding them back, snapping one after the other. ]
I want you.
[ An assertion, not a suggestion, not a hope. Just clear, honest want. ]
[In this situation, L is really like any other man. Predictable, maybe pathetically so. Reduced to a single panting urge, even his most considerate thoughts are drawn to a swollen, red point.
He nods; whether or not she knows or guesses his situation, he believes her when she reassures him, seals it with an indulgent kiss on the lips. He sinks into it, feels it pulling him like the sand at his knees and the appetite between their hips.
Her words cause him to freeze, glancing up, breath catching. Those three words, coming from someone desired, are so very powerful. It's more than being allowed, it's being invited; it's enough for him to read the accurate sincerity, and answer with careful, shuddering intrusion past scales, into muscle like silk.]
[ She tried to hold his gaze, but as he pushes in deeper, her eyes can’t help but close at finally receiving the contact she’s been craving. It was such a base desire, but how could she deny the sensations of it. While this wasn’t the peak of it, it was closer than they were earlier, each step forward its own reward.
Her head tilts back slowly, the cool water doing nothing to the heat of her body as she arched of the sand, seeking more of him, pushing against his weight. She’s careful not to dig her claws in too deep, drawing light pink lines along his back as she draws him towards her. ]
[There's a tense and strange moment where L is frozen, feeling disassociated. Is this hungry, demanding thing a part of him at all, or something disembodied?
The prick of her claws is a grounding reminder of where he is, what he's doing, where he retains control and agency. He presses more deeply at her urging, feeling the head of his member press past firm ridges that squeeze him as he goes. They squeeze in such a snug way, in fact, that he momentarily forgets that there are men more well-endowed than he is.
The pulsing instinct is such a natural thing. Alex knows it, and urges it; L's body knows the same. This is another thing that seems to vary little between male and female bodies; the one encased will want to move, and do so at a pace that suits him, that carves pleasingly at the hunger he feels behind his navel. He impales with what he has, stopping only when no more length can be spared and their bodies are fully joined, panting raggedly. He pulls away only so he can feel the slide of her inner walls against him, the contoured squeeze and sweetness, as he plunges in again, more quickly, with the confidence of one who has felt it before.]
[ Alex can barely control her tail from moving on its own, her more primal mind wanting to wrap herself around him and move him herself. But Linden wasn’t prey to her or some poor fool she could play with on a full moon. That is not to say she didn’t feel good at that moment, the slow drag of his shaft along her walls spreading pleasure like an unfurling ribbon up her spine.
And then it becomes a strong jolt, his next thrust more assertive, more purposeful, her back curving as a gasp is pushed out of her. ]
[L might not be prey, but there are ways he doesn't particularly mind being taken hold of. Narrow-boned and slight as he is, his place in couplings with other men is more typically a submissive one. He doesn't view it as emasculating; it would be worse to fail at screwing someone else, like someone diminutive attempting to reach a shelf too high with no stool. Hopping up and down, ineffectual, reaching without success for a goal that is obvious to all.
Alex might be being kind, by letting him be on top, permitting him this attempt at earnest lovemaking. It could be a generous token to let him actually try when no late night in any dark bar would have ever led to an encounter like this one. It's an intense exercise in trust, as well, because the road to coming feels like a tense walk atop a tightrope, at times, in constant battle with his paranoia and self-doubt.
Terrible distractions, all things considered, when he's hugged so tightly and wreathed in a space that feels made for this purpose. It urges and prompts movement, and his mouth returns to her neck to kiss at the gills there as he establishes a brisk rhythm that only falters at first. Both of his hands grasp her hips, now, creating a mental and physical boundary to pulse toward.
He's probably sterile. Even so, the notion of spilling over inside of her tight confines is exciting, makes him throb so hard in anticipation that he is careful to rein back his pace. Is it because a part of him relishes the risk? Some loosely-defined and latent desire to procreate? Or does he just want to leave his mark on someone Mello feels jealous over?
He drives a bit faster, a bit harder, fingertips grasping at Alex's hipbones, teeth grazing her neck. He wants to leave the kind of small, sucking bruise that would incite questions; he does not, recognizing that it would hardly be fair to his benevolent partner. He's a thief in the night; he need not be a brazen one.]
[ Another moan rolls past her lips as he sucks at her neck, fingers lost in dark hair as she keeps him close. She could feel everything like this, down to how he throbbed inside of her, her muscles contracting in excitement at the thought of him getting closer to filling her. He moves faster now, harder even, something was grateful for. Even the way he pressed his fingers into her hips encouraged her to move against him, meeting his thrusts.
His lips felt so good against her neck, pleasantly surprised with how good it felt. Did he even know how sensual he could be with them? ]
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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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[ She whispers against his ear as she presses kisses along his jaw. ]
Take your time. You can touch elsewhere too…
[ Linden was smart, a teacher, someone who seemed to learn quick. If he wanted to explore something for the first time, she’d allow him to, gently coaxing and caressing him along the way. ]
Pay attention to how the other person reacts.
[ As if she was separate from the experience, a mindset of being a tool or replacement for somebody still in the back of her mind. ]
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No shame in not knowing, when you have no reason to know.
He nods, accepting readily, but now that they are both so keenly aware of it, will it seem as though he's a scientist meticulously surveying and studying her body if he moves his hands elsewhere? Swallowing, he lifts his left hand, formerly wasted at their sides to grip and knead at lifeless wet sand. He lets the next wave lick it clean, starting at the curve of Alex's hip, sliding up over the warm tan skin of her stomach, her ribs, coming to tentative momentary rest on her breastbone.
Familiar, a place he could touch on any lover, even if the swells of rounded, soft flesh flanking his pale and spindly hand are a new experience. Most of the breasts he's seen in person have been in a morgue, and there's a sudden impulse he acts on to lay his ear against her chest and listen to the sound of her heart and the movement of the air in her lungs as his own breath comes in shallow, quick puffs.
He's hard in her hand. It's the right time, the right context; the whole picture forms something right, not a numbered series of disparate cold pieces frozen on film. Her hand on his cock is not severed, there is no knife in her warm stomach, no rigor mortis in her lithe, graceful arms.
No thoughts, like this, in her gentle mind.
He's tense again, his cheek burning against her breast, warming it with shame. Better not to linger too long, here. He doesn't raise his face yet (so flushed, so transparent), but instead of grasping at her other breast to knead and caress it, his hand goes to rest against the side of her neck, the soft touch of two fingers against her pulse point.
His own breaths, finally, begin to deepen and slow. The vague panic subsides, pulling back like the ebb of the waves.]
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She could quite literally feel where he was at, when he tensed, was uncertain, and then when he began to settle.
Her thumb brushed over the tip of his cock, doing so in intervals between stroking him slowly. But when his hand reaches for her neck, grazing over sensitive gills, she makes a small sound, her back arching slightly as small jolts of pleasure shoot through her nerves. ]
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He thinks, often, of how his life might have been different. Likely not better, but different. That's not how it went, though; he's here, now, and his own disgusting doubt threatens the chance his body actively craves.
Shut it up, then...
He inhales sharply at her delicate and more pointed touch, the contrasting techniques adding a sudden new dimension to the contact between them. It serves to busy an active and restless mind, pull him from a crevice he could otherwise fall into and fail to recover from.
He notices, around the same time, that Alex seems to enjoy the tender touch at her neck. Recalling that he's supposed to be paying attention to reactions (and who's to say whether or not she's exaggerating so he can know, whether or not that matters when it seems basically sincere?), he raises himself on his elbow, moving up the length of her body over scales and skin and cradling the back of her head. He busies his mouth against the other side of her neck, kissing along the gills, sucking softly at the Merrow's sensitive skin.]
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Had his feelings shifted again? Was he feeling more comfortable? ]
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He feels like he has something separate, isolated, concentrated. The fingers of his left hand curl through the long, dark hair on the back of her neck, and the fingers of his right hand curl insistently elsewhere, against the parts of her tail that have perhaps softened and parted enough to yield for him, by now.
He doesn't think of Mello. Perhaps he should. Perhaps this will come back to sock him in the jaw when he least expects it, but he has long been vulnerable to Alex's kindness.]
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That…feels nice..
[ Words of encouragement, something she hopes helps to pet him know he’s doing alright. Though it was strange being on the teaching end of things. ]
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The reversal is truly strange. For all that L slips naturally into the role of a teacher, though, he's equally eager to learn, equally willing to set aside ego and pretense when his knowledge and experience are lacking.
A kind of comprehension begins to dawn, an instinctive awareness of the way things move and work together, like riding a bicycle. His mouth is fine where it is, kissing along her neck. His left hand lowers to move a slow and careful circle at her breast, the fingers of his right hand continue to explore an elastic organ that stretches to accommodate, squeezes to reward pleasure.
His thumb brushes her; what he's searching for isn't immediately obvious, but he's persistent, attentive, certain that Alex will let him know if he's successful, guide him if the subtlety escapes him.]
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She squeezes around his fingers, as if trying to swallow him in, to keep him inside of her. A soft whine comes from the back of her throat, shifting to a hummed moan when he does brush more sensitive nerves, hips bucking up to let him know he found what he was looking for. Her grip around his length tightens slightly, pumping him a little faster. ]
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He doesn't withdraw; that tensing from the inside, combined with the soft keening sound, drive his long fingers deeper, to the point where the faint scars from their severing and reattachment are glancingly visible at best.
Maybe, now would be the last chance to really decide this isn't the best idea, that there's someone famous for his jealousy who might take issue with this union. The heat rises to his cheeks, flushing them as her hand moves faster along his shaft, urging him past a certain threshold. Not that one, yet, but at least the one where they could both easily pull back, laughing breathlessly, blaming the ambience of the sea and the sand and the soft and gentle mood of the day?
They could both go home blameless, no secrets to keep that were even worth calling secrets, then. Maybe, if the way she quivers and sighs and holds him so tightly didn't come from such a place of unassuming, encouraging gentleness.
He curls his fingers inside her, keeping his touch at her breast soft and careful as though it's some ripe fruit he's concerned about bruising. His knees, on either side of her tail, sink slightly as the water smooths the sand under them once more, and they're so close. They could join wetly, almost casually, they are so very close.
Whether or not they should seems a further question, scarcely a suggestion before it's snatched away on the breeze. They both want each other this way, and even L is convinced.]
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His hips were close enough for him to graze his length along her slit, though her hand doesn’t guide him just yet. Did Linden even want to go that far? His movements fluctuated between keen interest and uncertainty, desire and restraint. What if what happened between him and M happened with them?
But the more his fingers dove in, curled, and pleasured her, the more her greed was amplified by those feral instincts. She liked Linden, wanted to be closer to him, to feel good with him, to find that connection from their temporary bond in another way. But her hands slide to his shoulders over his shoulders, hugging him tight. She had every intention of making him feel good, to get him off if that’s what he wanted, but she’ll let him decide how. Though she might be urging a particular way with how she rolls her hips against his, grinding his tail against soft scales. Did he still doubt that she wanted him…? Because her doubts were fading away. ]
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Myr is terrified of this trust and the power it could give him over his Bonded. Light, doubtless, is well aware of how he could use it to his advantage. But Alex has no deeper knowledge, no ulterior motives, no reason to try and break him down this way. To her, he's just a slightly-starved man, a lonely friend, a teacher not inappropriately older she admires intellectually.
They're just getting to know each other better, in a world that rewards and encourages multiple connections of this sort. Whatever he might know in his heart, he can convince himself on an intellectual level that this is not inherently a betrayal of Mello.]
I... don't have any sort of prophylactic, or..
[His words are murmured quickly, hinting at sheepishness, enough to absolutely communicate the practical concern he has. He's never had reason to worry about being the cause of a pregnancy before.
He probably doesn't, now; in fact, he rather assumes his own sterility as a result of medically complicating his body's growth and sexual maturity for years. But it's a way, isn't it, of communicating what he wants, where he wants to venture next, an apology that's also a way of surreptitiously asking if she can hold him with the velvety heat of her body, the way she holds him with her arms.
The roll of her hips dislodges his fingers; his hand goes to the small of her back, a place where scales and skin blend into one another. He pulls her close, hides his face against her cheek. There's nothing in the way now; a shift of the hips from either of them could slot them neatly together, but there's something almost blessed about the pain of wanting, the ache unfolding his curled limbs and radiating blindly toward a goal.]
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Oh. She’s assuming he means a condom? That’s usually what comes to mind at this point. Even now she’s learning things, something she smiles about to herself as she nuzzles against his face affectionately. Her fingers tuck some of wet strands of black hair behind his ear, pressing a kiss to his cheek. ]
It’s okay…you don’t need it.
[ She doesn’t say this recklessly, of course. It seemed more than mere luck to not have been knocked up with what she’s done during her stay here. She could only assume that she’s unable to have any, whether that’s an effect of becoming a monster or having traveled worlds, Alex hadn’t thought about too much.
Cupping his cheek, she turns him to face her, letting the kiss linger a moment, relishing the mixed taste of salty water and sweets. ]
I don’t mind.
[ She reassures against his lips, blue eyes slowly opening to meet his. They were painfully close, mere threads of worries holding them back, snapping one after the other. ]
I want you.
[ An assertion, not a suggestion, not a hope. Just clear, honest want. ]
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He nods; whether or not she knows or guesses his situation, he believes her when she reassures him, seals it with an indulgent kiss on the lips. He sinks into it, feels it pulling him like the sand at his knees and the appetite between their hips.
Her words cause him to freeze, glancing up, breath catching. Those three words, coming from someone desired, are so very powerful. It's more than being allowed, it's being invited; it's enough for him to read the accurate sincerity, and answer with careful, shuddering intrusion past scales, into muscle like silk.]
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Her head tilts back slowly, the cool water doing nothing to the heat of her body as she arched of the sand, seeking more of him, pushing against his weight. She’s careful not to dig her claws in too deep, drawing light pink lines along his back as she draws him towards her. ]
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The prick of her claws is a grounding reminder of where he is, what he's doing, where he retains control and agency. He presses more deeply at her urging, feeling the head of his member press past firm ridges that squeeze him as he goes. They squeeze in such a snug way, in fact, that he momentarily forgets that there are men more well-endowed than he is.
The pulsing instinct is such a natural thing. Alex knows it, and urges it; L's body knows the same. This is another thing that seems to vary little between male and female bodies; the one encased will want to move, and do so at a pace that suits him, that carves pleasingly at the hunger he feels behind his navel. He impales with what he has, stopping only when no more length can be spared and their bodies are fully joined, panting raggedly. He pulls away only so he can feel the slide of her inner walls against him, the contoured squeeze and sweetness, as he plunges in again, more quickly, with the confidence of one who has felt it before.]
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And then it becomes a strong jolt, his next thrust more assertive, more purposeful, her back curving as a gasp is pushed out of her. ]
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Alex might be being kind, by letting him be on top, permitting him this attempt at earnest lovemaking. It could be a generous token to let him actually try when no late night in any dark bar would have ever led to an encounter like this one. It's an intense exercise in trust, as well, because the road to coming feels like a tense walk atop a tightrope, at times, in constant battle with his paranoia and self-doubt.
Terrible distractions, all things considered, when he's hugged so tightly and wreathed in a space that feels made for this purpose. It urges and prompts movement, and his mouth returns to her neck to kiss at the gills there as he establishes a brisk rhythm that only falters at first. Both of his hands grasp her hips, now, creating a mental and physical boundary to pulse toward.
He's probably sterile. Even so, the notion of spilling over inside of her tight confines is exciting, makes him throb so hard in anticipation that he is careful to rein back his pace. Is it because a part of him relishes the risk? Some loosely-defined and latent desire to procreate? Or does he just want to leave his mark on someone Mello feels jealous over?
He drives a bit faster, a bit harder, fingertips grasping at Alex's hipbones, teeth grazing her neck. He wants to leave the kind of small, sucking bruise that would incite questions; he does not, recognizing that it would hardly be fair to his benevolent partner. He's a thief in the night; he need not be a brazen one.]
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His lips felt so good against her neck, pleasantly surprised with how good it felt. Did he even know how sensual he could be with them? ]
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