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keferon · 4 months ago

Note

Two Peas in a Pod: part 2/?

*slips another piece into your mailbox*

_____________________

Jazz was still feeling a little woozy from his donation in the dark hours of the morning. Blaster had breakfast changed from the usual to something that felt more like a treat, probably a reward for his good behaviour, and to help his body recover. Fish heavy in proteins, fat, all that healthy stuff. Something that normally he would have tried to savour, but he wolfed it down from excitement. Too many questions ran through his head, and most he couldn't bring himself to voice.

The mer, the mer would pull through. Blaster told him about how he had saved their life with his blood. Praised him high and low. Because Blaster knew how Jazz felt about seeing blood, about how hard blood tests were for him, and that was only a tiny vial. Not three big bags of it. Jazz hadn't seen how much they had taken – because he had kept his eye closed until they left in a hurry –, and hearing about it made him dizzy for other reasons, but he honestly felt real proud of himself.

It was a new feeling, different from other moments of pride – like when he figured out the lock codes. Yeah, this gave him butterflies and the drive to help more.

Blaster laughed when Jazz offered that the vets could take more if the other mer needed it. His handler didn't think it would be, but he would pass it on to the vet team.

Jazz's morning checks were a little off, expected with having a little less fluids and feeling off-balance, but it was kept short and quick. Blaster told him that if he learned anything more, he'd tell him next time he came by and then hurried back down to the staff area. Blaster was needed elsewhere, understandably as there weren't many mer experts here, though he did leave Jazz his waterproof stereo if he wanted to play some of his favourites.

But, the orca mer was far too busy causing a whirlpool from the laps he was swimming. He was too excited to sit still, and embarrassment be damned he started practising old vocals. He didn't remember much of his mother tongue, and he was pretty sure that his pronunciation was off, that or had one hell of an accent. Echo-speech was even more rusty. And once he had gone over and over what he could recall, Jazz began to really worry. A few sentences and handful or so of words was all he had? Gods, I hope I can at least make a decent first impression. Blaster said they were just like me, so hopefully, that will give me some starting points.

More than he cared to count, Jazz would swim into the shallow waters of the medical bay and hope to see something through that window. But no one ever came close enough for him to hear any news of the mer. He couldn't even see anything on his radar, wherever they had done treatment, it wasn't in the hospital ward. It almost felt like he was being purposely kept in the dark.

And just when Jazz was starting to worry that things had taken a bad turn, a group of staff turned up around four pm. He wasn't able to ask any questions, or rather they refused to answer. Shooing him away as they got to work. Starting with closing the gate to the bay to 'keep him out'. Jazz could easily climb those walls, but that wasn't the point. Even if the gate window was closed, he could pick up that they were setting up the water hammock. But it wasn't until he heard the cautionary beeping of the hoist lift approaching that it dawned on him – the mer was coming. Now.

"Jazz," Blaster called, "… Jazz," he blew the training whistle and finally got his mer's attention. "Stop pacing and get over here."

"But–" Jazz looked back longingly up the wall.

"Jazz," his tone dropped to a firm one, and Jazz begrudgingly swam over to the pier. The human crouched and made sure that they held eye contact before he spoke. "I need you to promise me that you will stay in your enclosure."

He sunk a little, trying to play into his cuteness, but being far too anxious to really pull it off. "What do you mean?"

"Jazz," now warning him. Blaster knew full well that he was more than capable of getting into or out of places he shouldn't, bloody Houdini mermaid, "this is serious. Things are going well, we want to keep it that way. Which means keeping things calm and feeling safe. You're excited, I get it, we all are. But in about an hour, they'll be waking up and – from past experience seen with wild Mers – they will likely freak out. And the last thing we need is you hauling your tail over that wall and making things worse. Understand?"

The beeping was louder how and the hiss of hydraulics caused Jazz to look up. The arm of the lift was visible over the wall. They're here!

"Jazz," Blaster hopelessly called for his attention once more.

Within moments, a massive bundle was carefully raised, the staff calling out and coordinating. Jazz's gaze was fixed on the black and white fluke poking out, it was the only part of them he could see, and his heart began to race. Once they became hidden by the wall again, Jazz moved back to pacing by the gate without even thinking. Listening to people hopping into the water to unstrap the mer and call back n' forth. "Careful, careful! – Watch the head! – Someone give me a hand over here! – We're clear on this side! – Keep the head up!"

Really starting to sound like a broken record, Blaster chirped the whistle and called out to him again. The expression he wore must have been pretty pitiful because the look on Blaster's face dropped. "If I open the view port… will you promise me that you will wait, that you will stay in your enclosure?"

"I promise," he answered hastily, placing his hands on the gate, over the panel that would slide open.

"And that you will wait until everything is in the clear, till the staff come to oversee the integration. There will be no rushing things and no asking staff when we will open the gate."

"I promise," he repeated, trying not to beg.

Satisfied, Blaster pulled out his radio, "Blaster to Control; when the team is out of the Mer enclosure's medical bay, open the view port. Jazz's stress is mounting without a visual."

"Can do," came a quick reply.

Though, opening the panel was not. Several minutes went by, the hoist had cleared out, and much of the staff had returned to their other duties. Only two remained double-checking the mer's breathing and pulse. The moment that the last of them left, Jazz heard the lock disengage, and he retracted his hands as the panel shifted and began to slide open. The window was too small to get more than his hand – maybe up to his elbow if he wanted to push it – through, and sat just at water level– any movement sending water hopping to either side. But it gave him a clear view of the surface area inside.

Oh.

Oh. Jazz stopped breathing. While the mer's body was mostly supported by the fabric of the hammock, cradling them on their side, effectively hiding most of them from Jazz's angle. Propped up on a soft floating platform was the mer's head, face towards the gate. Sharp features and elegantly shaped finials, with flattering lines of their markings complimenting the peaceful expression as they slept. The butterflies from earlier came back stronger than ever, his heart thundering as words fumbled from Jazz's lips, "he's beautiful…"

_____________________

-GLC

Orca Prowl really is just-- too fucking pretty, omg, I'm living through Jazz in this moment like when I first saw your designs of him.

I'm more than happy to continue writing for you, you bring me so much joy. I screamed when I saw how much you liked it. If you have any requests you would like me to add to the story, leave it in the tags or comments ♡ I now plan to continue until the tsunami and a bit afterwards, maybe more, we'll see~

Upd: There is a next part!

Oh. MY GOD. OKAY ALRIGHT OKAY ALRIGHT OKA

I'M ABOUT TO START PACING IN CIRCLES JUST LIKE JAZZ OVER HERE KDLCNFJFLFB PL E A S E THIS IS SO GOOD. The tension?? You can fucking TASTE it IT'S SO GREAT GLC I LOVE YOU

The way it all starts at night and then you (as a reader) have all this additional time to boil in your anticipation?? So fucking great. Like you can really feel how little power Jazz has over the wholse situation. The plot is moving but he doesn't have any saying in it. Well. Yet heheh

Anyway haha. Im normal and I made some art>:D

#apocalyptic ponyo #jazzprowl #jazz #prowl #blaster #ponyo jp writing #GLC #merformers #maccadam #transformers #damn imagine living your whole life with stupid dolphins and pretty much equally stupid captive merfolks #and then meeting a guy with an Engineering degree #must be wild~~~~#Wait I just realized. Those workers never had any experience with sapient merfolks besides Jazz #they all are like “he will freak out” but their understanding is based mostly on animals and captive mers #and those tend to become VERY stressed if they suddenly wake up in some new strange environment and discover they have a company #while with Prowl it would be the exact opposite I imagine??? omg. After all the time he was kept in those tiny ass temporary pools???#having no company besides humans who are constantly poking him and staring at him and making him take their weird medication an-#-d sometimes drugs if he acts aggressively?#like after all this shit???#I have a feeling he would see/hear other orca nearby and his first initial reaction would be OH THANK FUCK there's a company #orcas are very VERY social after all~#I got carried away haha. I LOVE THE FIC SO MUCH #MUAH #this is freaking amazing #.....damn okAY one more thought I just had #there's only a small window for them to look at each other #Prowl wouldn't properly see Jazz ehehehjfkfnfmfj. He would sorta kinda see him right. But then he would ACTUALLY look at him. like.#for the first time see his entire body? and Jazz looks SO wrong #Okay I'm done spamming haha

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vunblr · 2 months ago

Text

Tangled (#9)

Pairing: Cecaelia! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight Angst. Fluff. Slow Burn. Teratophilia.

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Word Count: 8.7k

note: This is one of the works I'm submitting for the @avengers-assemble-bingo event Kinky Bingo. The Prompt is Monster Fucking. Card number KB-014.

Previous Chapter

In the days that followed their kiss on the beach, something shifted. She kept returning to her usual spot near the rocks, sitting with her yarn and humming as if nothing had changed, but the air between them was different. Bucky lingered now. At first, he hovered at a distance, half-submerged, watching with those sharp, unreadable eyes. But as the hours passed, he grew bolder. Every time.

Sometimes he’d curl a single limb around her ankle as she worked, or stroke the back of her hand when she reached for something. Other times, he'd join fully beside her on the rocks, glistening in the sun, with his tattooed arm propping him up behind her like he’d always belonged there. The conversation flowed naturally between them, hesitant at first, then deeper. She asked questions about his kind. He listened to her stories about life before the coast. They learned from each other in fragments.

But it was mating season. And he was trying -really trying- not to crowd her, not to rush. Still, when she leaned back into him, when her thigh brushed his hip, his tentacles would stir without permission. At first, they only wrapped loosely around her waist or leg, but soon they started to roam, mapping the shape of her calves, her arms, the line of her back. He was always watching her face, always waiting to see if she'd pull away. She never did.

She let him explore. She started to touch him back, too. Tentative at first, but curious. They were becoming a slow, simmering thing. It wasn’t just instinct or heat. It was her choosing him, again and again.

One afternoon, as the sun dipped low and cast long golden streaks across the shore, something shifted again. They were lounging in their usual place, with her back to his chest, and his limbs lazily cradling her body like he couldn't help but touch her, because he couldn’t. They’d been speaking in soft tones, his voice low and gravelly near her ear, threading sweet nothings into her skin between slow kisses to her shoulder and jaw.

But then, one venturing limb strayed. A slow, absent-minded movement at first, but it grazed the damp fabric of her underwear, an area he’d deliberately avoided. He’d known touching her there would be different. Too much. He could already smell her arousal when she was near, taste it in the air. But direct contact? It sent a violent rush of sensations through his body, like being plunged into a current he couldn’t fight. Her warmth soaked into his cups, and he froze against her, with his lips parted, and his breath suddenly shallow.

He stopped mid-whisper, clenching his fingers on her waist as his whole body tensed behind her. Her scent and taste, so much stronger now, filled his head like salt and honey and heat. And then she moved. Just a little. A subtle shift. Her thighs parted ever so slightly, angling her hips toward the limb still resting where it shouldn't be.

The invitation was quiet and devastating.

He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. His body moved before he had the chance to reason with it. His limbs tightened around her like a trap of velvet and steel, pulling her flush against him. Another tendril snaked low, slipping beneath the edge of her damp underwear with unerring precision, seeking the heat of her skin. The contact was electric. Her breath hitched, and she curled her fingers around the limb at her waist, not to push him away, not guiding him either. But her thighs stayed parted, and her body pliant in his hold.

A low, guttural sound rumbled from his chest as his lips found the side of her neck, open-mouthed and burning. He didn’t kiss so much as taste, drag his teeth along her pulse like a warning. His cups latched on tender skin, drawing slow, coaxing pulls, tasting her salt, her sun-warmed scent, the spike in her heartbeat that was desire, not fear.

He was unraveling.

His kind didn’t go slow. Didn’t take care. Not like this. And yet here he was, trembling with restraint and still failing, still losing control.

He pinned her. One arm around her middle, another limb curling over her thigh to hold her open, his slick skin pulsing against her core. The tip of a tentacle pressed forward again, slow and reverent. Her breath came out ragged. One more second and-

No.

With a strained, frustrated hiss, he tore himself away. Every limb uncoiled at once, releasing her like she burned him. He dropped low, twisting to the surf with a wild motion, and was gone, vanishing into the sea like a dark shape slipping between waves.

She sat up slowly, dazed, with her skin marked with the memory of his touch, and her chest rising and falling in a shaky rhythm. The place where he had held her felt suddenly empty, and her body was left thrumming with unfinished need.

She stayed there on the rocks long after he vanished into the sea. Her skin still tingled where he’d held her, where his cups had tasted, where his breath had scorched the base of her neck. It hadn’t frightened her, his strength, the way his instincts had flared. If anything, it had stirred something deep and primal, a mirrored longing in her own blood. But he had pulled back. For her. For his word. And though her body ached with the echo of what almost was, her chest ached more with understanding. He feared what he could do to her. And yet… she wasn’t afraid.

----

The next day, she finished up orders. Packed, labeled, and stacked the boxes that had to go out before the week was over. Her fingers worked purposefully, but her mind wandered to the shore. To him. To the way he almost lost control, to the moment they said “another day” they would speak.

Today was another day. And frankly, she was tired of circling the edges of something that had already been decided.

So when the tide began its slow afternoon retreat, and the sky shifted to the soft golds of the early evening, she made a decision. She grabbed a snack, tucked a bottle of water into her pack -and, why pretend?- stuffed a small blanket inside too. Just in case.

She changed into a dress that hit just above the knees, a breezy thing that left her legs free and bare to the touch of the wind… or curious tendrils. Her cheeks warmed just at the thought.

Then, before heading out, she paused by the shelf near the window and picked up the bracelet she’d made months ago. A simple band, crocheted leather strips, with one of the flat, spiraled conches he had gifted her woven into the center. She hadn’t worn it before. Not yet.

She tied it around her wrist and stared at her reflection for a moment. Then she smiled -a little foolish, a little excited- and stepped out into the sea breeze.

----

She didn’t even bother to sit in her usual spot by the rocks. Her mind was too loud, and her body too restless. The moment she arrived, she walked straight to the mouth of the cave with a hammering heart, and her eyes adjusting to the softened light streaming down from the stone chimneys above the place.

“Bucky?” she called, once. Then again.

His voice came from behind her, low and calm. “Didn’t expect you. You weren’t on your rock earlier.”

She spun with a startled yelp, clutching her chest. “You almost killed me.”

He only snorted, and his eyes glinted with mild amusement as he rolled them at her. He leaned back against the damp rock wall, resting his arms behind him, with his body half-floating in the pool. Tendrils swayed lazily with the motion of the water, catching the scattered light like ribbons of ink.

“Had things to do,” she said, trying to slow her heartbeat. “I don’t hunt my food, remember? I have to work to go buy it.”

He quirked a brow, with something unreadable flickering in his gaze as he watched her approach. She moved toward him slowly and sat on one of the dryer rocks near the pool’s edge, tucking her legs beside her.

“I came to talk,” she announced.

“You always talk,” he deadpanned.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” she rolled her eyes, but smiled. “You know what I mean.”

He nodded, slowly, with a guarded expression. “Yeah. I do.” He was about to bring up what happened the day before, but his eyes flicked to her wrist and lingered there. His gaze locked on the bracelet, on the spiral of the conch he'd given her long ago. Woven now with care into leather and worn like something meant to stay.

He didn’t say anything at first, but she watched how the tension subtly shifted across his chest. One of his tendrils stilled mid-motion in the water, then curled inward, like it was thinking.

“You made that,” he finally said, quiet and almost disbelieving.

“Yeah,” she said, suddenly self-conscious. “Months ago, actually. I just… didn’t wear it until now.”

His gaze dragged back up to hers, slower this time. There was something raw in the look he gave her, like that simple gesture had undone some tightly wound thing inside him.

“I noticed,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “It suits you.”

And then, a little quieter, like it escaped before he could stop it: “You kept it.”

“How couldn’t I?” she said, almost like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Her fingers grazed the bracelet. “You gifted it to me.”

Something shifted in him. She saw it. His chest expanded with a silent inhale, and a swirl of pride flickered behind his gaze. Subtle, but unmistakable. That she’d kept it. That she wore it, out in the open, where others could see. She hadn’t just accepted the token; she’d chosen to display it, to carry him with her.

He wetted his lips unconsciously, and without a word, began gliding toward her. The water cradled his body in flowing movements, as his limbs trailed behind like dark ribbons. When he reached the edge of the rock she sat on, he braced himself against it, folding his arms along the rim and resting his weight there. Close, but not quite touching.

His tendrils twitched beneath the surface, brushing the stone, aching to reach for her. But he held back.

“So… yesterday,” she began, her voice was a bit tentative as she smoothed her hands over the front of her dress. “We- well, you know.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You yielded to me.”

She huffed a laugh. “Is that what you call it? I wasn’t exactly resisting, you know.”

“It is what it’s called,” he replied with a hint of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Even when the female is willing and courts us first, she resists before the final moment. It’s… instinct.”

She blinked. “Why resist?”

“Because,” he said simply, “even if we carry the mark of aptitude, they still need to test our strength. To see for themselves what we’re capable of. Whether we’re worthy of strong offspring.”

There was no shame in his tone. No pride either, just fact.

She frowned as she tried to imagine it. “So there’s violence involved?”

“Some,” he admitted. “Until they yield. Until they accept.”

“Oh my god,” she muttered, shaking her head. “No offense, but that doesn’t sound very… nice.”

He shrugged one shoulder, water rippling with the motion. “Nature isn’t always nice.”

She blinked, processing that with wide eyes. “That’s… intense.”

His eyes didn’t leave her face. “It’s instinct. But we’re not only instinct.” His voice dropped a little. “Not always.”

Her hand found the edge of her dress again, smoothing the fabric over her thigh. “So… when I accepted, it wasn’t the same. I didn’t resist. I didn’t fight you.”

“No,” he said, with a slowness that bordered on reverent. “You considered me apt.”

He didn’t say what that meant to him, but she could see it. In the way his pupils dilated, in the subtle way his shoulders dropped, in tension bleeding out of his body, in the small movement of a tendril that came close to her foot, hovering there, trembling slightly, before withdrawing again.

“You’re not… disappointed by that?” she asked, quieter now.

He leaned in closer, resting his chin on his crossed arms, as the water lapped softly against the stone between them. “I wouldn’t have touched you if you’d fought me,” he said, honest and firm. “I wouldn’t have wanted to. You’re human, not like the females of my kind. If you’d resisted… it would be because you weren’t interested. And that you chose me…” He exhaled through his nose. “It means more.”

There was a moment of silence between them, charged and delicate. Then she smiled softly, leaning a little closer, just enough that her knee brushed his arm.

“Good,” she said in barely above a whisper. “Because I meant it.”

He sighed deeply, and the sound echoed faintly off the damp stone walls of the cave. One hand raked through his hair, slicking his damp strands back as he gathered himself. The water beaded along his skin, catching the fading light in the cave.

“I…” he started in a low voice. “I’ve been drawn to you since the autumn days. Since you first started coming here. It has nothing to do with what’s happening to me now.”

Her chest felt lighter with something close to relief. Without thinking, she reached out to take his hand, but he shook his head gently, stopping her.

“Please don’t touch me. Not until we talk.” His voice cracked just a little, betraying the strain. “It’s not easy for me.”

She curled her fingers back into her lap, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

His shoulders relaxed just barely at her understanding.

“I want to try what you do. What your kind does for bonding, to last, to share things. It’s not something purely sexual.” His gaze lifted to hers, raw and hungry and full of intent. “Still, I desire you. I want to mate with you. To make you mine, and no one else’s.”

Of all the confessions she might’ve expected, it wasn’t that, at least not said like that. With that kind of depth. Warmth bloomed in her chest, fierce and radiant, and she couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips.

But then, his expression shifted.

“But…” he looked away. “I won’t trick you. You deserve to know what I am. What I’ve done.”

She nodded slowly, leaning forward without thinking, as if her body was reaching to understand before her mind could catch up.

“About... eighty winters ago,” he began, in a low voice, almost guttural, “far away from here, I was captured. Tricked by a human man who pretended to be my friend.”

His expression went somber, and he pressed his lips into a thin line. Her breath stilled.

“I was... naïve back then. Trusting. I thought the stories they told us -to stay away from the land, from humans- were exaggerations. I believed we somehow could coexist.” He paused and clenched his jaw. “Until we couldn’t.”

His eyes darkened with memory. “One night, I came to see him... and what I found was a group of men waiting for me. They overwhelmed me. Weakened me with harpoons and bound me. Then they dragged me into a ship like some cursed trophy.”

She drew in a sharp breath, horrified, but she didn’t interrupt, pressing her fingers hard into the stone beneath her instead.

“I was probed. Studied like a thing. And I was awake for it.” His voice cracked there, but he pushed on. “They... broke me. Rearranged me. Then... they used magic -something ancient, dark- to twist my mind. To bend my will.”

His voice was hollow now, haunted.

It was the first time she’d heard of magic being real. But she couldn’t question it, not when he sat there before her, a real and breathing myth, scarred from things she couldn't even begin to imagine.

“That’s... terribly painful and hard-”

“I’ve killed people.” His voice snapped through the air like a whip, silencing her.

Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

“Countless men,” he went on, looking not at her, but through her. “And... my kind too. I was made to fight. To hunt. To destroy. And I did.”

He swallowed, and the motion looked thick and pained. “That is why I was attacked. Because of what I did, because I was one of them for too long.” He didn’t move. Didn’t look at her. Just waited. Braced himself.

And she -heart pounding, emotions torn between anguish, fury, and an ache she couldn’t name- still didn’t back away.

"How... how did you get free?" she murmured, her voice barely more than breath.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and the silence stretched before he answered. “Spent twenty winters under their control. Until a friend man-hunted me and cut me loose.”

Her brows furrowed. “A friend?”

“Yeah,” he exhaled, and his fingers clenched slightly on the edge of the rock. “I told you that my kind doesn’t bond. We’re proud, isolated. Weakness is despised. But... Steve and I were together since we were pups.”

He finally looked at her. “He was so small. So weak. Couldn’t have survived those first independent years on his own. And I... I don’t know. I couldn’t just leave him. It felt wrong. So I stayed with him.”

Her chest clenched at the image of a young Bucky, already protective, already different.

“We stuck together most of the time. He got stronger. Better. There was a witch involved in that,” he added with a flicker of disdain, “but it wasn’t my business. He didn’t ask for my opinion anyway, hot-headed as he was.”

She gave him a soft, understanding smile. “And... where is this friend now?”

He hesitated. The word friend seemed to sting.

“I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “He mated a human woman. Chose to live among them.”

Something brittle and old bled into his tone.

“I was hurt. Felt betrayed. After what they did to me, what they made me become... he chose to be with a landwalker. Right after freeing me.”

His jaw tensed, and his lips curled slightly in frustration. “I was thankful. But angry, too. So angry.” he admitted. "I distanced myself from him, the only one who gave a shit to bring me back and not just put me down. But the feeling of betrayal was stronger. I was... broken. In more than one sense."

Her heart twisted at his confession. So much pain, layered over time like the rings of a wounded tree. She knelt down at the edge of the pool, and reached out without hesitation. Screw the warning from earlier.

"Who could blame you for that?” she murmured, folding her arms around his damp shoulders. “You suffered too much. You can rationalize it now, but at the time... you were raw.”

He stiffened under her touch, and every muscle in his back went tense. But he didn’t pull away.

She pressed her cheek to the crown of his head, and his breath hitched once against his crossed arms, his face still hidden from her. He stayed like that, tense, quiet.

Then slowly, as if it took a great effort, as if some part of him was still waiting to be punished for being vulnerable, his other limbs responded. Tentacles slithered up around her waist and lower back, coiling loosely, cautiously. Not to hold her in place, not to restrain, but to seek. To self-soothe.

He didn’t speak again. Just let himself be enveloped by her arms. Let himself rest, for a moment, in the warmth of someone who didn’t flinch.

Eventually, he found his voice. “Now you know what I did. You can turn back. Leave. Despise me, if you want. It wasn’t fair to let you be with me without the truth.”

She didn’t flinch or loosen her arms from around him.

“Why would I despise you?” she asked softly, pulling back just enough to see him. “Look at me. Hey,” her hand brushed the damp strands of hair from his temple, coaxing him gently, “let me see your pretty eyes.”

He scoffed -more out of habit than defiance- but he lifted his head anyway, meeting her gaze with a reluctant flicker. There was a storm behind his irises, old and violent, but he let her see it.

She cradled his face, grazing his cheeks with her thumbs.

“You were a victim,” she said firmly. “They made you do things you wouldn’t have done if you’d had a choice. I do not think less of you because of what you told me.”

Her voice wavered, but her eyes didn’t. “If anything… it takes courage. To carry it. To speak it. And to tell me, give me the choice to know something you could’ve easily hidden forever? That’s not something a coward does. That’s someone who respects me. Someone I… care about.”

His breath caught, and his tentacles shifted slightly around her, like they were trying to pull back, but couldn’t quite let go.

“I know you think you’re too broken to be wanted,” she murmured. “But you’re not. Not to me. I don’t see a monster when I look at you, Bucky. I see someone who survived. Someone who protects. Someone who still knows how to care.”

He blinked slowly, as if her words took a second longer to reach his mind through all the layers of shame and pain. The weight behind his gaze didn’t lift, but it softened.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead gently against his. “I still want you. That hasn’t changed.”

His arms didn’t move, still crossed tightly over the edge of the rock, but one of his tendrils coiled slowly up her spine, tentative in its touch. “…You’re not scared of me,” he said at last, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not,” she answered. “I trust you.”

He closed his eyes, and the tension in his shoulders bled out by degrees. Then, in a voice edged with something old and bitter, he said, “There were moments I thought I’d never speak again. Never be seen again. But then you came here… and sat on that rock every day like I was just an equal in a cave and not a thing swimming in shadows.”

His lashes lifted, and his eyes searched her face. Then, with a slow breath, he pushed himself upright.

Water slid down from his torso in long, smooth rivulets, and his damp hair clung to his temples and neck as he turned and eased himself onto the flat rock beside her. He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to spook her, though his limbs remained loosely coiled around her hips and lower back, more by instinct than intent now. A tactile confirmation she was still close, and still his, even if only in this fragile, flickering moment.

Before he could speak -before he could thank her or tell her what she’d just given him- she leaned back slightly.

Just enough.

Her teeth caught her lower lip, and holding his gaze with purpose, she tilted her head, baring her throat in invitation.

A heartbeat passed.

His pupils dilated instantly, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply, sharply, drawn forward by the sudden clarity of her scent, wanting, open.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“…You’re doing that on purpose,” he murmured, voice rough with restraint.

She didn’t look away. “Yes.”

His tendrils twitched, curling tighter for a breath before easing again, their grips were gentle but possessive.

“I said I wouldn’t rush you,” he murmured, with his eyes locked on her exposed neck “but… you're making it very hard.”

His hand finally reached for her, slowly, brushing the hair from her shoulder as he leaned in -not to touch with his mouth, not yet- but to breathe her in again, filling himself with her essence.

Bucky inhaled again, and his eyes fluttered half-closed as her scent bloomed around him. Then came his teeth' soft, sharp click, an unconscious sound of instinct and want.

He drew back just enough to meet her gaze with a hooded and serious expression.

And then -slowly- he turned his head and lifted his chin, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat to her. The tendons shifted beneath his damp skin, and the pulse was faintly visible just beneath the surface. She moved without hesitation.

Leaning in, she mirrored his gesture, lifting her chin and echoing what he'd just done. Her lips hovered near his jaw, not quite touching, but her intention was unmistakable. Her acceptance was not passive.

Bucky’s eyes burned with heat, his entire body was tense with desire and control, the coils of his limbs flexing around her waist, her thighs.

And then, her hand rose.

She didn’t go for his face or chest. She reached instead for his arm, brushing her fingertips over the intricate tattoos swirling across it. The marks were dark and sinuous, almost alive under the dim light, telling a story she had yet to learn. Her touch was reverent, following the curves and lines with slow, deliberate pressure, circling her thumb over a spiraled sigil inked with a star in its center.

Bucky stiffened, and a tremor coursed through his limbs.

“You know what you’re doing,” he wanted to confirm, his voice thick and low.

“I do,” she whispered, eyes never leaving his. Her touch slid further over his marked skin, splaying her fingers over the spiraling designs, warmly and sure.

He pressed closer, clenching his arms around her, with his chest nearly brushing hers now. One of his tendrils curled behind her knee, not yet demanding, just present.

“Then you know what comes next,” he murmured.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she breathed. “And I want this. I want you.”

He groaned low in his throat, and the sound vibrated against her cheek, as his mouth found hers in the next breath with no hesitation, no tentative brush of lips. And his limbs -no longer restrained- finally explored her as they had longed to. Tendrils slid beneath the hem of her dress, curling around her thighs with reverent pressure, mapping every inch of skin.

She gasped into the kiss, gripping his shoulders as his touch coaxed a tremble from her legs.

Then he pulled back slightly, just enough to speak against her mouth, his breath hot and uneven. “This attire is... conveniently made,” he muttered, brushing the edge of the fabric with a smirk in his tone.

She huffed a soft laugh. “How perceptive of you,” she teased, grazing his lips as she spoke.

His grin was a flash of white teeth, brief and crooked, before he captured her mouth again, rougher now, more claiming.

The tendrils on her thighs caressed with unhurried confidence, coaxing her knees further apart as one traced the sensitive inside of her leg. Another curled around her waist, pulling her flush against the firm plane of his body.

Everything about him enveloped her: his heat, his scent, his voice, low and gruff in the moments their lips parted for air. One of his hands braced against the stone, the other cradled the back of her head, and still, his limbs kept moving, pulling reactions from her that made his pupils blow wide with hunger.

“Say it again,” he breathed into the curve of her neck. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” she repeated, without a shred of doubt.

His limbs moved with growing confidence now, sure in their purpose. Two of them slid higher underneath her dress, teasing along the hem of her undergarments, while others coiled around her waist and shoulders, holding her gently but firmly in place.

She shivered against him, not from fear, but anticipation.

Another tendril, slick and warm, brushed up her spine beneath the dress, making her arch with a gasp. He used the movement to pull the fabric upward. The dress peeled away, gathered slowly above her hips, then over her head as one limb coaxed her arms up while another tugged the garment free.

He pulled back just far enough to look at her bare before him with nothing but the bracelet on her wrist and a flimsy cloth over her sex. His pupils were blown wide, and his chest rose in shallow pants as he took her in.

“I dreamed of this,” he confessed, in a hoarse voice, “Of you. Like this.”

She touched the edge of his jaw, brushing the corner of his mouth with her thumb. “Then don’t wait. I’m right here.”

That undid him.

Tendrils slid down her sides, curving to trace the lines of her waist and her thighs. One hooked beneath the last scrap of fabric between them and tugged slowly -teasingly- down, baring her completely to him, and for a beat, he just looked. She was breathing heavily beneath the curl of his limbs, and when his gaze fell to her chest, he stilled completely.

Slowly, as though touching something sacred, one of his limbs rose and coiled gently beneath her breast, lifting the soft weight into his grasp. It filled his grip in a way that made his throat tighten, and awe and hunger tangled inside his chest. His other limb followed, mirroring the shape, reverently wrapping around it, cups pulsing softly against her skin as they explored the warmth and texture.

She gasped when he touched her nipples -sensitive, already peaked- and his entire body responded to the sound. One of the cups latched gently, suckling with a subtle, exploratory pull.

Her eyes flew open. “It feels like you’re… like your mouth is sucking on it,” she moaned, breath catching on the words.

He plucked at the stiffened peak again with more intention this time, watching, feeling her react, seeing how her body arched into his grasp, how her scent sharpened with each motion. His pulse thudded in his ears, and his limbs were trembling with restraint as her thighs shifted and parted beneath him.

When he slid a limb down to test between them, it came away wet, soaked in her desire. Her taste, carried in the fluid that filled his cups, made him reel. He groaned low in his throat, a raw, unguarded sound.

Then, bolder, he plucked the other nipple between his cups as her moans spilled freely.

Her lips parted on a sigh, and her eyelids fluttered low when his tentacle returned to that place between her legs, rubbing with slow, deliberate pressure against the sensitive folds. The slick heat, and when his cups grazed a small, firm nub tucked just above her entrance, her body jolted like he’d struck lightning beneath her skin.

She wanted to touch him back, show him what she felt, drag her fingers down his body, trace the hard line of his jaw, kiss the shell of his ear, but she couldn’t. He was everywhere. Beneath her, around her, holding her firm with strength that somehow managed to be gentle. Each movement, each probing touch, each curious flick of his suckers pulled another soft moan from her lips.

The cups latched on instinct, closing over that pearl-like flesh, tugging gently, then more insistently with each pass. Her reaction nearly unraveled him. She arched, shuddered in his grasp, her thighs trembled around his limbs. She grabbed his forearms with a desperate grip, as if she might fall apart without him holding her, though he never would’ve let her.

Hard, quick gasps poured from her lips with every pull of his cups. Her hips twitched before she could stop them, trying to follow the source of that delicious tugging pressure, and he felt it all, through the taste in his mouth, the grip of her fingers, the slickness against his limbs.

He tilted his head, puzzled, fascinated. “What is that?” he asked, lifting her slightly with his limbs to get a clearer look at the glistening bundle of nerves nestled between the soft folds of her sex.

She groaned, covering her face with both hands. It was far too late to be shy, but the gesture was instinctive. “That’s… that’s my clit,” she mumbled from behind her fingers.

He blinked. “What is its purpose?” His voice was curious, gentle even, as his fingers replaced the cups and stroked it carefully.

She flinched, “Um- it’s… it’s for pleasure. Just pleasure,” she managed to say, as her hips chase the contact without her control.

His breath hitched. That concept -just pleasure- made him freeze in awe. “We… don’t have anything like this,” he murmured, almost reverently. “Everything we have… it serves a function. This… this is only for you?”

She nodded, slowly lowering her hands from her face to meet his gaze. “Yeah. It’s sensitive. It… feels good when touched.”

His pupils were wide, blown with wonder and something much darker. “Then I want to learn everything about it.”

Before she could answer, he eased her back onto the mossy, softened stone beside the water. The cool air kissed her bare skin, and he was right there, around her again, his limbs braced to either side, one still coiled beneath her back, another curling around her calf. The others, she couldn’t keep track anymore. One was wrapped gently around her breast, another smoothing over her waist, her hip, her belly, and lower.

He kissed her thigh without warning.

"Just like a clam", he commented as he spread her lower lips with his thumbs, "a clam and its precious pearl."

"Never thought about it like that" she chuckled, but was interrupted by a moan when he circled her clit with his lips and sucked, tracing his tongue along her slit after satisfying his curiousness.

Then he had an idea. He leaned back and lifted her, almost sitting her on the cradle of his tentacles, and grasped the back of her neck, tilting her head up to make her look at him. Then, one of his limbs slide back between her legs to nestle on her mound, and used a cup to suckle at her clit intently.

"Oh my god" her voice trembled as her hips ground shamelessly against his appendage.

His gaze was dark, enjoying every shift of her blissful expression for the pleasure he was giving her. He. No other.

"I'm- don't stop" she whined, and he tilted his head again.

"You what, mate?" he asked, still having her by the neck, forcing her to look at him through hooded eyes.

"I'm going to cum" she breathed.

He touched one of his canines with his tongue and then clicked his teeth. The words were foreign to him, but he understood their meaning. "Show me then. Show me what I do to you," he murmured, going further, sliding the tip of his tendril inside her wet heat in tandem as the cups kept suckling on her. Her body tensed, and her lips parted in a silent scream as the orgasm hit her, clenching around his limb, clawing his shoulders, arching her back in an impossible angle as the wave of pleasure made her tremble under his touch.

Her head lolled forward, resting on his shoulder, and her breath came in soft, broken bursts against his damp skin as her body slowly relaxed in his grasp. His tentacles cradled her like something precious, but they were twitching now, with restraint, with want.

Bucky exhaled through his nose, heavy and shaky. He pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering there for a moment as if centering himself.

"I pleased you," he murmured, low and hoarse, his voice vibrating against her skin. “You came apart in my arms. Let me see it, feel it. You gave that to me.”

His hand, large and warm, settled at the small of her back. The limbs encircling her shifted with less grace and more urgency now, tightening slightly, drawing her closer.

"My body…" he started, pausing, jaw clenching as if trying to hold himself back one last time. His gaze flicked down to where their bodies pressed together, then up to meet her eyes, dark and searching. "I need to mate with you, now. I’ve waited, held back, but- It hurts to keep it inside.”

One of his limbs slid slowly along her spine, not to tease but to soothe, to keep her present. “You said yes. You chose me. And now my whole body is calling to answer that choice.”

From the haze of pleasure still coursing through her body, she blinked slowly, registering the slight tremble in his voice, in his hold. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb across the high arc of his cheekbone.

“It hurts… to keep it inside?” she asked softly, almost wondering.

He nuzzled faintly into her palm, like the simple touch soothed something primal. “I didn’t want to scare you,” he admitted, a little gravel in his voice now. “So I held it in.”

“Oh.” Her brows drew in gently. “Oh, you mean your… okay. So, it’s inside you?”

“Yes,” he nodded slowly, pupils blown wide and locked on her. “It… grows when I’m aroused, like a human male’s. But it’s concealed. Normally, one just…” he hesitated, then made a gesture, vague but suggestive, like something unfurling. “Just let it out. But-”

“You didn’t want to scare me,” she finished for him.

He gave a barely-there nod.

There was a pause.

“Should I?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper now. “Be scared?”

His eyes flicked to hers. “It shouldn’t hurt,” he answered honestly. “I think. But it’s… different. Not like what you’ve known or seen.”

She smiled, small and sure. “You’re not like what I’ve known or seen either,” she said, tracing her fingers along his skin. “But that didn’t stop me from choosing you.”

He made that low sound again, a rumble that seemed to rise from the depths of his chest and echoed softly off the cave walls, vibrating through the water between them. His grip on her softened, but tension still prevailed in his body like a storm barely held back.

And then… something shifted.

Just beneath the sculpted lines of his abdomen, down the center of his Adonis belt, she saw a movement, a hidden seam parting with organic grace. It unfurled with a subtle flex, almost like how some mollusks opened under sunlight. And then, without warning, there it was.

He had wanted to reveal it slowly. To give her time. But his restraint had burned to cinders the moment she told him she trusted him. That she wanted him. The moment she climaxed in his arms. There was no holding back now, not with the fire coursing through his veins and her scent heavy on his skin.

She stared, with her lips slightly parted. It wasn’t grotesque or monstrous. Just… different. The same black and blue patterns of his limbs trailed over the shaft, the surface gleaming faintly like polished shell and velvet. Not exactly human, not exactly beast. Thick and ridged in places, with a subtle pulse that told her he was very much alive with want.

Definitely not in the small category. But it wasn’t disheartening. In fact, it sparked something else entirely.

She bit her lip. “Can I touch it?”

He didn’t speak. Just clenched his jaw, and a muscle twitched near his temple. But he nodded once, deliberately, with his eyes fixed on her every move like a predator.

Her hand reached forward, slow but sure, grazing the ridged surface with her fingertips. It twitched in response, and so did he, every muscle in his body going tense as if her touch sent lightning down his spine.

“God,” she whispered, brushing down its length, marveling at its weight and heat. “You really were holding back.” She stated, looking at him while giving a tentative squeeze.

He didn’t smile. Not this time.

“Is it… of your liking?” The question came low, strained, like it cost him something to ask. He wasn’t just teasing or fishing for praise. He was uncertain, genuinely. And she could tell that wasn’t something that happened often. He’d spent a life being feared or desired, and now… he was asking her, the one person he trusted, if this part of him -this exposed, vulnerable part- was acceptable.

Her eyes dropped again to the hard, pulsing length that stood rigid between them, black and blue like his limbs, ridged in a way no human man could ever be. She could see why he’d worry.

It was definitely different. But it wasn’t frightening. Not to her. She didn’t stop touching him. Her fingers explored gently, tracing the contours, watching the way his breath hitched and his jaw clenched tighter. The ridges, texture, and subtle shift in her palm were unfamiliar, but not frightening. Actually… it reminded her of a night, long ago, giggling tipsy with a friend, scrolling through some ridiculously NSFW novelty site and stopping on a selection of fantasy dildos. Some textured like tentacles, some curved or ridged. Some of them… kind of hot.

And this one? Real. Warm. Alive.

“I think it's beautiful. You are beautiful. I find it-” She hesitated, then bit her lip and met his eyes again, trying -and failing- to wrap her hand gently around him. “I wonder how it would feel inside me.”

His pupils dilated instantly, the ocean-blue swallowed in black. His tentacles shifted around her hips, drawing her in unconsciously, as if her words triggered a primal response in him he could no longer suppress. His throat worked around a groan, and one of his hands came up to cradle her cheek with reverent care.

“You want to find out?” he asked, with a low, wrecked voice, barely holding control.

She didn’t answer, not with words. She leaned into his hand, brushing her lips over the rough pad of his thumb before kissing the center of his palm. That was enough. That was more than enough.

And then he moved.

His limbs shifted, cradling her body, circling her waist and her thighs. She gasped softly, and her hands instinctively flew to his shoulders for balance, but there was no real danger of falling. He was everywhere. Beneath her, around her, holding her like she was already part of him.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, like a vow, even as his pupils stayed blown wide. “Unless you ask me not to.”

He spread her legs farther, and his mating shaft brushed up the soft skin of her inner thigh before guiding himself with his hand, rubbing against her slick and probing at her entrance. She whimpered as he stretched her with his engorged tip, and he froze, staring at her face for a sign that she wanted him to back off. Maybe his limb wasn’t enough to prepare her for what was coming.

Her eyes fluttered open when he stopped moving. “Please, don’t stop.” She pleaded.

So he didn’t, instead pushing all his length inside her, feeling something in the process he had no parallel for. Mating with his kind had been nothing like this, maybe because she was smaller in size. He retreated and pushed again, and again, as her fingers clawed at his arms and her moans and whimpers grew more frantic. This time, he had no doubts about the sounds she was making, especially since she whispered the words deeper, and more as he pushed into her.

Her hips swayed with his thrusts, and she already felt another orgasm building embarrassingly fast. He kept tugging at her clit and nipples like sucking kisses, at compass with his cock that stretched her deliciously with every drag. His limbs clenched around her body, creeping across her skin, and leaving little marks in their wake. It was an indescribable feeling that was so erotic that she couldn’t speak, beyond begging him in barely coherent words not to stop.

He pulled her closer to his body so her chest was against his, so she grasped one of his shoulders more firmly and leaned forward to kiss and lick the strong column of his neck, and he moaned. She decided she wanted to hear that again, so she nipped softly at his pulse point, which resulted in another moan and a harder thrust that made her cry out.

Suction cups kissed her trembling inner thighs, adding to the overwhelming sensations, and more of them stroked over her waist. One wandering limb prodded at the tight hole next to where his mating shaft pumped inside her. She shivered as he explored, not making any move to stop him until he pressed too deeply inside. He stopped as soon as he felt her tense, and moved away to trail light suction kisses up her back instead.

She nipped at his neck again, a teasing bite just below his ear, and the sound he made in response was feral. A low, guttural growl that vibrated through his chest and straight into her pussy. His fingers tangled in her hair in a possessive fist, tugging her head gently but firmly to the side, baring her neck.

Then his mouth was there, hot and open over her pulse, where it thundered beneath the skin. He licked once, slow and deliberate, before closing his teeth over the spot in warning. His breath was ragged, lips brushing her skin as he spoke.

“Want to mark me, mate?” he asked, voice thick and raw.

The way he said mate spiked her desire.

“Because I want to mark you. I’m going to mark you, so everyone knows-” he changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting deeper inside her, making her scream, “that you are taken, and only respond to me.” Her moans and whimpers echoed inside the cave, and the wet sound of her body being obscenely ravaged filled their ears.

Then he bit her.

Not hard. Not cruelly. His canines extended just enough to sink into the flesh where her neck met her shoulder, right at the place where instinct screamed and trust made her melt.

The pain was barely there, more like pressure followed by a dizzying, radiant burst of pleasure that licked through every nerve ending of her body. Her breath caught in her throat. Her thighs clenched instinctively. A moan escaped her lips before she could stop it, digging her fingers into his back as her body tightened hard and rhythmically on his cock. The feeling of her pulsing heat dragging him deeper and deeper like heartbeats, and the taste of her marked flesh against his mouth, was overwhelming. He thrusted one last time inside her and followed her climax, pouring his hot, thick load deep inside her in pulsing waves. The sensation of her inner walls milking him, coaxing out every last drop of his seed, sent him into a frenzy of post-orgasmic bliss.

He stayed there, buried as far as he could go inside her, with his softening cock plugging all his sperm within her body. His mouth kept latched onto her neck like he was branding her with something more than teeth.

With a gentle lift, he carefully extracted his cock from her still-clenching heat, and a small river of seed followed suit. He watched, captivated, as it copiously dribbled down her thighs. His body still trembled with aftershocks, but his voice was a low, satisfied growl.

“You wear me now,” he mumbled, flicking his tongue out to taste the spot on her neck once more. “No one will come near you. Not with this on you.”

She let out a breathless laugh, resting her cheek against the broad expanse of his chest. “No one, hm?” she murmured, tracing her fingers idly along the edge of his collarbone. “Are you referring to your kind?”

The muscles beneath her shifted. His grip around her waist clenched just enough to make her gasp softly, and a hiss escaped through his teeth, sharp and instinctive.

“No one.” His voice left no room for ambiguity.

She tilted her head to look at him, eyes still heavy-lidded with afterglow, but her tone had a teasing lilt. “So mating season made you more possessive.”

His eyes flicked to hers, and something flashed in them. Acknowledgment, maybe, or the faintest trace of guilt. He didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. Not when every part of him was still vibrating with the primal satisfaction of claiming her, of feeling her body still warm and pliant against him, filled with him, marked by him.

“But you understand I have to socialize in my world, don’t you?” she added, softer now, one hand reaching up to brush back his damp hair from his brow.

He tensed again. Subtly, but she felt it. Something primal in him bristled at the thought, the very idea of her walking around among others, vulnerable in a place where he couldn’t always be with her.

But he also knew. Knew she wasn’t his to keep in some cave or tidepool. Knew that what they shared only worked because it was chosen, not forced.

He drew in a breath, slow and deliberate, and pressed his forehead to hers. His voice, when it came, was roughened by restraint. “I know. I don’t like it... but I know.”

She smiled then, warm and open, and he focused on that. On her scent clinging to his skin. On the mark, pulsing gently at her neck. On the heat of her body, still pressed to him.

----

He was perched semi-upright against the cave wall, half-sitting, half-reclining with her settled between his limbs. Her back was pressed to his chest, and his arms and tendrils draped around her like he was still afraid she might drift away. The blanket she’d pulled from her backpack was now wrapped loosely around them. His limbs hadn’t ceased their attention; even in the calm, they continued exploring, fondling lazily her thighs, trailing over her hips, giving little affectionate tugs with the suction cups that made her shiver from time to time.

Twilight had crept in almost unnoticed. The deeper parts of the cave were cloaked in shadow now, and the ocean outside was a distant hush of sound against the stone.

“The tide will start rising in a couple of hours,” she murmured, finding his fingers with her own and squeezing gently. “I already can’t see a thing… you’ll probably have to guide me out or I’ll land on my ass four times before reaching the exit.” she tried to joke.

He tensed behind her, and she could feel it, not just in the way his chest rose with a sharp breath, but in the shift of the limbs tensed around her. Her words, so casually spoken, reminded him of something he hadn’t wanted to think about. That eventually… she would leave. That their perfect little moment, suspended in warmth and skin and breath, would end.

A low sigh escaped his lips, and with a subtle flick of his wrist, six soft blue orbs rose into the air, like glowing will-o’-the-wisps. They hovered above and around them, casting a gentle illumination over the cave walls, their skin, and their closeness.

She gasped, and her eyes widened at the soft lights flickering to life. “You didn’t tell me you could do that.”

“You never asked,” he said with dry amusement.

She gave him a look. “You can do more magic, then?”

He shook his head slightly. “No. We all can- more or less. It’s not magic. It’s a hunting trick for the depths. To lure prey.”

“It’s beautiful,” she said, still marveling.

“And dangerous,” he countered softly.

She rolled her eyes, then turned her face up slightly to press her cheek to his jaw. “Doesn’t make it less beautiful.”

He hummed, low in his throat. One of his limbs slid lazily along her leg beneath the blanket, his suction cups giving a gentle tug against her skin like he couldn’t bear to let her forget him, not even for a second. “Dangerous things are often the most captivating,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to her shoulder where his mark now pulsed faintly. “You proved that.” She tilted her head back slightly to glance up at him, and despite the low light, she caught the glimmer in his eyes, not just desire this time, but something warmer.

The orbs pulsed softly, casting shadows along the walls, and the tide sang its distant lullaby. The real world was creeping back in, but for a moment longer, they stayed in their own.

Next Chapter

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