[It seems too favorable an outcome, to be real. He's momentarily taken out of it, flummoxed, but she's so honest. He's demanded that she look in his eyes before as she speaks so that he can ascertain the truth, and he saw no lie then; clutched inside of her living flesh, now, he is equally certain that Alex's reactions aren't theatrical performances meant to stroke his ego.
He doesn't mind the challenge. He doesn't mind the sand or the surf, and his own phylax is in fact in her element just offshore. He's never in his life backed away from something difficult, or decided that anything he wanted was just too much trouble because he was inconvenienced. At this moment, he wants Alex, and he wants to come, and he wants her to come. If she comes, after all, it means that she is not thinking of the bird's-eye view of his bony ass beating up and down, pale and comical as his thin limbs scramble for purchase on the ever-shifting bank.
What's firm, and certain, is the fact that he is nestled to the hilt in stroking, indulgent darkness.]
[ If she doubted whether he was alright with this, the way he rutted against her answered that well enough. She wondered if he was doing it on purpose, keeping at that same angle after that, but her thoughts were soon muddled with heightened pleasure, a tightness coiling in her stomach. Despite how attentive her partners have been in Aefenglom, Alex still found it so novel for the other party to care for her pleasure, to not only seem their own.
Red lines marred his back as her nails dragged across him, doing her best not to sink her claws him in an attempt to draw him even closer. She was close, the way she twitched and squeezed around his cock more than telling. ]
[He is a fast and fixated learner. That’s always been the case, and likely always will be. He knows that whatever he’s doing with his cock is yielding a desirable and sincere result; he’s confident that it exceeds Alex’s acting skills. Even if he’s wrong, and it’s all pretense? He’s sure he can overlook it for this shimmering rush, this enthralling home stretch before he pumps all of he pent-up longing into one willing and open.
Her claws are a sharp reminder that the woman he’s gripping by the hips and driving against the wet sand is a monster. He shivers; the pain is not precisely a turn-on for him, but it’s grounding. He needs that sometimes, and knows it. He needs to remember that this flesh is his, and he’ll make her come so he can let go, himself.]
[ It takes a few more of those perfectly angled thrusts before she finally climaxes, her tail slapping hard against the water and sand as it arches to meet him, her whole body shuddering as she muffles a cry against him, filling her senses with his touch, his scent, his taste.
Her walls convulse around him, squeezing tight and milking him for everything he had to offer. Pleasure washes over her like a wave, keeping her under as she trembles beneath.
[Likely, it feels longer than it is, more of a labor however sweet, because of what an effort he expends not relinquishing his hold on himself. He could, and he doesn't doubt that it would be sublime, a moment of explosive bliss to cloud his thoughts in a way that drugs or alcohol never could with their soggy prolonged stupor. Wouldn't it also be thoughtless, barbaric and inelegant, something of a faux pas?
He tries, holding back more than he wants to, his rutting thrusts gentle enough as to be almost careful. He likes the way she smells, revels in the way she feels as she slides against his cock's measured movements, and when he feels her clench around him like some satin-gloved and dextrous fist, he knows it can't be long.
He buries his face against her shoulder as his pace quickens and harshens in tempo. The inevitable emission feels like an indiscretion, something rude and disgraceful. More so because it's been so long, has massed in his loins and grown full and heavy.
When he does, he comes and comes into her tender warmth, clutching her hips with both hands, breath catching and cheeks burning against her soft neck as he spills and can't seem to stop until, panting, it relents and he feels suddenly soft and spent. He simply breathes atop her for a few moments, the last aching phantom twitches nestled and buried as he sighs.]
[ His breath tickles her neck, her scales sensitive to his heat. It was almost fascinating, having been used to seeing Linden be so calm and collected, now disheveled, panting, gripping her tight as he empties himself into her. It’s a pity, that he won’t let her see his face, the kind if expression he was making in the throes of pleasure.
The merrow turns enough to nuzzle against the side of his head, pressing soft, lazy kisses to his temple, trying to let him know she was pleased. Her monstrous side could certainly keep going, but she was sated enough to not want to push him like that. ]
[His breath shudders as the sounds leave him. He tries to gauge whether or not it's a good time to withdraw, whether the continued intimacy is good, or his increasingly slackening member is humiliating.
He defaults to staying, for just a moment. Maybe a moment will present itself to disentangle that feels natural.]
Thank you, for that...
[Sincere, grateful. It's significant that he does not assume she would require money, for the displeasure of letting him press his sputtering, mucusy output into her body. Where it resides, now, substantial, sticky and warm, seeming to melt their joined flesh together.
He clears his throat. It sounds hilariously formal and professorial given the current circumstances.]
[ The show of gratitude was oddly…flattering? She can’t help but chuckle fondly as she keeps him close with a hug, rolling them over so she could get a proper look at his face, her hair falling around them as she looks down at him warmly. Reaching up, she brushes stray locks away from his face, gently caressing his cheek.
Their new position also keeps him snug inside of her, some of his seed dripping down around the base where they connected. ]
I thought so too. That you were really good.
[ Considering it was his first time, and with a merrow on the shore at that. What could he do in more favorable conditions, she wondered. ]
[The shift in position causes his overlarge eyes to widen; the curtain of wet hair is decidedly erotic. He could be hard again in a few minutes, he's sure, even if coming again makes him wince, the thought of a dry and empty chamber in a gun, pulling the trigger.]
You don't have to-
[Say that, claim that, flatter me in that way, but maybe it's true? Maybe something nice can be true for a change.]
I'd do it again...
[Neither of them are addressing the elephant in the room. Someone they both know, someone who won't like that this happened for multiple layers of reasons.
Best to speak of it when they're not steeped in each other, perhaps. He tries not to think of how he will flop like a boned fish outside of her when she raises her tail off of him.]
[ Now? She thinks, the merrow in her quite pleased with the thought, her ears perking and her eyes twinkling with excitement, the soft muscles of her tail squeezing around him. But…it dawns on her that he might another time, elsewhere, outside of this cave.
No longer away from the subject neither of them have brought up, choosing to drown themselves in seemingly innocent passion. But someone was affected by all this, someone that Alex particularly cared for.
How selfish was it of her, to crave for both of them. ]
Can we?
[ once they leave this place? Again the debate of what was harmless and what wasn’t starts to creep into her mind. ]
We can... I'm not with anyone else, not officially.
[Nothing wrong with it. No sin, no deception. He wouldn't lie to Light about this, or Myr. Or Near, although he thinks that the latter would care the least of all his Bonded.
There's another successor, though. One who might care, just as much as Near wouldn't.]
[ Which was true, really. But…it’s more of who Linden was that made it complicated. Because of the nature of their relationship, Alex was certain he wouldn’t ‘not’ care about this.
Her gaze lowers a moment, crossing her hands over his chest to lean down, her mind wandering to how to approach her Bonded about this. ]
M said it didn’t matter to him who I’m with, but…
[ Meeting his eyes again, she knows Linden is smart enough to know why she’s concerned. ]
[The conversation is an awkward one when his softening body is still buried in hers, his seed dripping down onto his stomach. He swallows, reaches for a nearby seashell to center himself. His thumbs stroke it as the color remains high and bright in his cheeks.]
Why should I be different?
[Soft, still defiant. In spite of knowing, L should be allowed to be like any other lover Alex might take, blithely wreathing himself in her scent of sea spray.
[ Did he still not know until now…? He was more observant than that, she thought. She gives it a moment, as if he might answer the question himself, but then she continues. ]
You’ve… always been different.
[ And maybe part of her curiosity of him stemmed from that. How he affected M as much as he did, what kind of person was his mentor? The mentor who somehow became her own teacher, changing their odd and awkward dynamic of random encounters on the street to intentional meets ups that she looked forward to. But her fondness for Linden was nothing like what M felt, something she could only tap into sometimes through their bond.
If she really thought about it, a part of her might’ve been jealous even. But how much more terrible a reason would that be? Her fingers trace over his chest idly, trying to distract her from her own thoughts. ]
You’ve mattered to him for a long time. More than anyone else, I think.
[He lets the seashell fall, suddenly, reaching to grasp her slender wrist.]
Can't you say that I'm the same?
[He wants it, in this moment. Blissful anonymity, that could disappear like foam on the sea. No encounter of great consequence, a clamoring union that was pleasure and nothing beyond that. Alex, he expects, is better at chasing such encounters from her mind, where they all blend together in a kind of miasmic orgy.]
It's sick, what we are to each other. What he called me, what... my work made him into.
[He's completely soft inside her now, almost curled in shame. His back etches up against the sand, pulling inch-by-inch away. No sense remaining. He's spent and flaccid and vaguely grotesqe, like a slug.]
The symbol matters to him.
[He detests me.]
I'm a man, I'm not a symbol.
[She knows he's a man. His sweaty scrotum is against her warm scales, his slug-soft member precarious inside of her firm walls.]
[ Alex wonders, if he means from M’s perspective or her own. As she listens to the way he describes himself and M, she wonders if this is why he didn’t take to her compliments well. She didn’t know the details, but if thy were made to be how they are at such a young age, it couldn’t have been anything a child should go through. ]
Is that what he told you?
[ Feeling him try to pull away, she rolls her hips subtly, languid in its motion as she helps him slip out of her, a bit disappointed at the slightly emptier feeling. Mating season was a terribly tedious time indeed. Rising up by one hand to presses i to the sand by his side, smiles down at him. ]
I can’t speak for M, but… I’m glad you’re different.
[ Different from the men she was used to, the ones who demanded, hit her if she did even the slightest thing wrong in their eyes, who didn’t care about how she felt. Thankfully, those were people from before her time in Aefenglom, although their impact remained with her. The bar set for her partners, really. ]
[He rolls aside once she's off of him, curling around his sensitive snail like a shell of his own making.
Softly, he speaks.]
It's what I know. In more honest ways, than being told.
[He'd stake his life on it, based on what's happened, what he's seen and felt.
He doesn't know if he is different. He doesn't know if he wants to be. He swallows thickly and nods, knowing that the swim back won't pile on difficulty. She's seen him at his most awkward, after all.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
He doesn't mind the challenge. He doesn't mind the sand or the surf, and his own phylax is in fact in her element just offshore. He's never in his life backed away from something difficult, or decided that anything he wanted was just too much trouble because he was inconvenienced. At this moment, he wants Alex, and he wants to come, and he wants her to come. If she comes, after all, it means that she is not thinking of the bird's-eye view of his bony ass beating up and down, pale and comical as his thin limbs scramble for purchase on the ever-shifting bank.
What's firm, and certain, is the fact that he is nestled to the hilt in stroking, indulgent darkness.]
no subject
Despite how attentive her partners have been in Aefenglom, Alex still found it so novel for the other party to care for her pleasure, to not only seem their own.
Red lines marred his back as her nails dragged across him, doing her best not to sink her claws him in an attempt to draw him even closer. She was close, the way she twitched and squeezed around his cock more than telling. ]
no subject
Her claws are a sharp reminder that the woman he’s gripping by the hips and driving against the wet sand is a monster. He shivers; the pain is not precisely a turn-on for him, but it’s grounding. He needs that sometimes, and knows it. He needs to remember that this flesh is his, and he’ll make her come so he can let go, himself.]
no subject
Her walls convulse around him, squeezing tight and milking him for everything he had to offer. Pleasure washes over her like a wave, keeping her under as she trembles beneath.
no subject
He tries, holding back more than he wants to, his rutting thrusts gentle enough as to be almost careful. He likes the way she smells, revels in the way she feels as she slides against his cock's measured movements, and when he feels her clench around him like some satin-gloved and dextrous fist, he knows it can't be long.
He buries his face against her shoulder as his pace quickens and harshens in tempo. The inevitable emission feels like an indiscretion, something rude and disgraceful. More so because it's been so long, has massed in his loins and grown full and heavy.
When he does, he comes and comes into her tender warmth, clutching her hips with both hands, breath catching and cheeks burning against her soft neck as he spills and can't seem to stop until, panting, it relents and he feels suddenly soft and spent. He simply breathes atop her for a few moments, the last aching phantom twitches nestled and buried as he sighs.]
no subject
The merrow turns enough to nuzzle against the side of his head, pressing soft, lazy kisses to his temple, trying to let him know she was pleased. Her monstrous side could certainly keep going, but she was sated enough to not want to push him like that. ]
Are you alright, Linden…?
no subject
[His breath shudders as the sounds leave him. He tries to gauge whether or not it's a good time to withdraw, whether the continued intimacy is good, or his increasingly slackening member is humiliating.
He defaults to staying, for just a moment. Maybe a moment will present itself to disentangle that feels natural.]
Thank you, for that...
[Sincere, grateful. It's significant that he does not assume she would require money, for the displeasure of letting him press his sputtering, mucusy output into her body. Where it resides, now, substantial, sticky and warm, seeming to melt their joined flesh together.
He clears his throat. It sounds hilariously formal and professorial given the current circumstances.]
It was really good.
no subject
Their new position also keeps him snug inside of her, some of his seed dripping down around the base where they connected. ]
I thought so too. That you were really good.
[ Considering it was his first time, and with a merrow on the shore at that. What could he do in more favorable conditions, she wondered. ]
no subject
You don't have to-
[Say that, claim that, flatter me in that way, but maybe it's true? Maybe something nice can be true for a change.]
I'd do it again...
[Neither of them are addressing the elephant in the room. Someone they both know, someone who won't like that this happened for multiple layers of reasons.
Best to speak of it when they're not steeped in each other, perhaps. He tries not to think of how he will flop like a boned fish outside of her when she raises her tail off of him.]
no subject
No longer away from the subject neither of them have brought up, choosing to drown themselves in seemingly innocent passion. But someone was affected by all this, someone that Alex particularly cared for.
How selfish was it of her, to crave for both of them. ]
Can we?
[ once they leave this place? Again the debate of what was harmless and what wasn’t starts to creep into her mind. ]
no subject
[Nothing wrong with it. No sin, no deception. He wouldn't lie to Light about this, or Myr. Or Near, although he thinks that the latter would care the least of all his Bonded.
There's another successor, though. One who might care, just as much as Near wouldn't.]
Another time. I would.
[Open-ended. No pressure.]
no subject
[ Which was true, really. But…it’s more of who Linden was that made it complicated. Because of the nature of their relationship, Alex was certain he wouldn’t ‘not’ care about this.
Her gaze lowers a moment, crossing her hands over his chest to lean down, her mind wandering to how to approach her Bonded about this. ]
M said it didn’t matter to him who I’m with, but…
[ Meeting his eyes again, she knows Linden is smart enough to know why she’s concerned. ]
You’re different.
[ No one could shake M like Linden could. ]
no subject
Why should I be different?
[Soft, still defiant. In spite of knowing, L should be allowed to be like any other lover Alex might take, blithely wreathing himself in her scent of sea spray.
no subject
You’ve… always been different.
[ And maybe part of her curiosity of him stemmed from that. How he affected M as much as he did, what kind of person was his mentor? The mentor who somehow became her own teacher, changing their odd and awkward dynamic of random encounters on the street to intentional meets ups that she looked forward to. But her fondness for Linden was nothing like what M felt, something she could only tap into sometimes through their bond.
If she really thought about it, a part of her might’ve been jealous even. But how much more terrible a reason would that be? Her fingers trace over his chest idly, trying to distract her from her own thoughts. ]
You’ve mattered to him for a long time. More than anyone else, I think.
no subject
Can't you say that I'm the same?
[He wants it, in this moment. Blissful anonymity, that could disappear like foam on the sea. No encounter of great consequence, a clamoring union that was pleasure and nothing beyond that. Alex, he expects, is better at chasing such encounters from her mind, where they all blend together in a kind of miasmic orgy.]
It's sick, what we are to each other. What he called me, what... my work made him into.
[He's completely soft inside her now, almost curled in shame. His back etches up against the sand, pulling inch-by-inch away. No sense remaining. He's spent and flaccid and vaguely grotesqe, like a slug.]
The symbol matters to him.
[He detests me.]
I'm a man, I'm not a symbol.
[She knows he's a man. His sweaty scrotum is against her warm scales, his slug-soft member precarious inside of her firm walls.]
no subject
Is that what he told you?
[ Feeling him try to pull away, she rolls her hips subtly, languid in its motion as she helps him slip out of her, a bit disappointed at the slightly emptier feeling. Mating season was a terribly tedious time indeed. Rising up by one hand to presses i to the sand by his side, smiles down at him. ]
I can’t speak for M, but… I’m glad you’re different.
[ Different from the men she was used to, the ones who demanded, hit her if she did even the slightest thing wrong in their eyes, who didn’t care about how she felt. Thankfully, those were people from before her time in Aefenglom, although their impact remained with her. The bar set for her partners, really. ]
no subject
Softly, he speaks.]
It's what I know. In more honest ways, than being told.
[He'd stake his life on it, based on what's happened, what he's seen and felt.
He doesn't know if he is different. He doesn't know if he wants to be. He swallows thickly and nods, knowing that the swim back won't pile on difficulty. She's seen him at his most awkward, after all.]