#hoping that next year will see more in mermay...I only drew the one this year and thats sad I love fish people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monstersandmaw · 5 years

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Male merman x male reader (nsfw) - Mermay Story #2

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Well, plot happened amid my planned porn. Oh well! Here's 7692 words for you! It’s been up on Patreon on early release. My lovely patrons have just been told who’s up next, so if you want to know, and more importantly be involved in the next poll and get your sticker and reward when I hit 100 patrons, head on over to Patreon and sign up!

Anyway, here's Connor. Light warnings for alcohol and the after-effects of a painful breakup. And... uh... two tentacle cocks. *shrugs*

___

Boxes.

Dozens of badly packed, disorganised, straining-at-the-seams cardboard boxes filled your new small seaside cottage, some marked, others not, all hastily packed, and the thought of dealing with them at the tail end of a long day was just… overwhelming.

In a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable, you simply shut the front door behind you, with its cheery red paint peeling slightly under the influence of many a winter storm, and set off down the quayside with the only thing you’d not even packed away for the move: your camera.

It was your faithful workhorse, a chunky, veritable beast, and it earned you your living, so there was no way you’d risk packing it away in anything other than its soft, protective case for the move. It had sat beside you in the van as you’d driven it down the winding, cobbled streets of the old town of Starfall Springs, heading for your new home. And now as you set out into the spring evening, the pavements gleaming in the wake of a sudden shower, it hung around your neck, the familiar weight a comfort in the constant flux and chaos of moving house.

Seagulls whirled and wheeled overheard in crazy, lazy circles, and the constant lap and slap of the sea against the harbour wall and the hulls of the little pleasure and fishing crafts moored in the weedy harbour formed a constant backdrop to your evening walk.

Groups of locals gathered at the edge of the town to watch the sunset and stretch their legs after work or before dinner.

A minotaur’s hearty laugh made you look round, and you saw a blue roan centaur talking with the tiniest goblin you’d ever seen. She was barely three feet tall, and was standing on a bench to talk to the centaur, but she had him laughing and tossing his head with a very equine delight all the same.

A couple of gnoll cubs scrapped and snarled on the playground just set back from the harbour road, and a shy looking werewolf cub looked on in awe and longing.

You documented the light and the angles, but it was the stack of lobster pots, with their woven, birdcage appearance, that snagged your eye and drew you away from the more obvious spots towards the quieter shadows of the harbour.

Raising your camera to your eye, you tweaked the shutter speed as the light changed, and adjusted the focus with a subtle twist of your wrist.

Behind the network of the crisscrossing lines of the lobster and crab pots, the surface of the sea formed a calm, beaten bronze backdrop, gilded by the sinking sun, the tiny waves like hammer marks in a sheet of polished metal. You lost yourself for a moment, just staring out at it with boats bobbing and the waves nudging against the slimy stone of the harbour wall.

Breaking that magical surface, a figure appeared in the water for a moment, and you adjusted the focus instinctively, framing them as they breached the surface. The figure was one of the merfolk who lived in the area, and you almost regretted taking the photo without their knowledge. This was not a wildlife shoot after all, and despite the lithe, muscular tail, they were no mere fish. You’d worked with a rough and tumble tiger shark mer out on a shoot in the tropics the previous year, but aside from her, you’d had little contact with them. And every shoal and pod was different, especially in their attitudes towards humans. Some were chilled and helpful towards humans, while others were shy and reclusive, and there were those that were even predatory.

You assumed that here in Starfall Bay, the merfolk would be at least tolerant of humans. How tolerant of paparazzi humans they would be was a different matter, and you lowered your camera.

This mer was clearly enjoying the evening sun as much as the landfolk who strolled along the promenade. They rolled onto their back and you saw a long, lean, grey-blue tail rising up to balance them and hold them at the surface as they spread their arms and floated there like a snoozing sea otter; except this ‘sea otter’ had the lower half of a creature as lean and streamlined as a shark, or perhaps a marlin. This was a predator.

Your feet took you, almost without your realising it, towards the end of the harbour wall, and as you neared the final few yards of the curving stone cob, you felt a wild and bold urge sweep through you. You sat down on a rusty old cleat and dangled your feet off the edge, well clear of the waves, but it was obvious that you were watching the mer.

After no more than a minute, they saw you. Long black hair trailed in the water, and sharp, wet cheekbones glimmered in the sinking sun. A lopsided grin flashed, and they flipped over and swam a little closer. “Enjoying the show?” came the question in a husky, rich tenor voice.

“I didn’t mean to stare,” you said.

“Sure. Not been this close to a mer before?” he said playfully, and in a flash of his powerful tail, he was mere metres from your dangling feet. If he’d wanted to, he could have darted up and yanked you into the water. The thought gave you a strange thrill. Instead, he floated there and looked up at you with dark eyes glittering.

“Just once,” you said carefully.

He raised a sculpted eyebrow at you. Gods, but he was handsome. He had one of those faces that could have been painted by an Old Master and hung in a gallery somewhere; all sharp angles that caught the light perfectly, and framed by a curtain of shoulder-length black hair. You’d have loved to have taken his photo in that moment, with the light playing so beautifully on his features. He had a row of pointed teeth too, like a shark. He tilted his head. “Oh?”

“She was a tiger shark mer,” you said, without elaborating further. Let him infer what he chose from that.

The mer grinned broadly, showing off all those pretty white teeth. “You like us dangerous I see…”

You snickered at that and leaned back on your hands, your camera resting on your chest. “She was helping me with a job.”

The mer turned from playful to curious in a heartbeat. “What kind of job?”

You waggled your DSLR at him. “Photography. We were trying to film green sea turtles for a program on endangered species, and she was one of the mer who guarded the reserve where they’re being protected.”

“Sweet,” he said. “Nice to see our two species actually working together for a change.” A tinge of bitterness crept into his voice, but you let it slide.

“I know. We both had a blast doing it.”

He grinned and then the smile slipped from his face and he turned away, webbed hands waving slightly in the clear water of the harbour to keep himself above water.

“You… ok?” you asked hesitatingly.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Fuck.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate. All the fun seemed to have gone out of him, like the sparkle of a bubble suddenly pricked and burst. He sighed and his shoulders drooped. He dipped beneath the surface and raked his clawed fingers through his long hair, scraping it back off his handsome face.

“What are you doing here in Starfall Springs?” he asked after a moment. “No endangered species here. Unless you’re documenting humans, that is…” he added with a wry smile. “Not too many of those here…”

“I actually just moved here,” you said gently, hoping that whatever it was that had darkened his mood would pass as swiftly as a scudding cloud.

He turned and looked directly at you. “Really?” he said. “Why did you settle on this place?”

You shrugged. “The lady I’m renting from had really good rates, and I want to expand my personal portfolio,” you said, camera in hand. “The landscape round here is amazing, particularly the coast.”

He smiled. “It’s gorgeous,” he agreed. “If you head slightly north there’s this huge sandy bay with enormous rock arches, and sometimes you can find fossils in the cliffs.”

“Sounds great,” you said, eyes going wide.

He paused. “I could show you if you like?” he said after a moment.

Your brows knitted. “You serious?”

He grinned. “Sure, why not?”

“I mean… you don’t exactly know me…?”

Again, the mer shrugged, a twinkle coming back to his eyes that made you lick your lips subconsciously. “So?” he said. “You free tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah,” you said. “Anything to put off unpacking all the boxes from the move…”

He laughed, a sound like sunlight on still water, and you found yourself beaming back at him.

“Ok, meet me tomorrow at 10am on the old bridge into town.”

“Wait, what?”

He simply grinned and disappeared with a flick of his tail, leaving you with about a million questions and no one to ask.

The next morning you made your way through the winding old streets of Starfall Springs and hurried towards the old bridge. You were wearing your usual ‘photography-ramble’ clothing - namely a nondescript and slightly nerdy t-shirt, and scruffy jeans - and the day was fast warming up. The bridge was empty when you arrived, but you checked the time and realised you were fifteen minutes early anyway.

You leaned your body against the ancient stones of the wall and peered over the edge. The water rushed down, clear and quick, from the eponymous springs above the town, and swept away into the harbour and out to sea. The way the water weed danced in the current was mesmeric, and, yes, incorrigible as ever, you whipped your camera out for a closeup of the textures and play of light on the water. It rippled, and yet was smooth as blown glass, and it caught your attention so fully that you almost didn’t notice the person approaching you until he came to a halt right beside you and leaned his backside against the wall and laughed, folding his arms across his slender chest.

You jumped, almost dropping your camera in surprise, though luckily the neck-strap earned its keep and saved the camera from a plummet to a soggy doom below (and not for the first time). You turned and had been about to scowl disapprovingly at the young man, both for invading your personal space quite so closely, and for interrupting you mid-photo, but the words died on your tongue when you recognised the handsome figure a second later. You knew your jaw was hanging open in shock, but you couldn’t wipe the stupid expression from your face.

The mer - who now had legs and clothes - simply tipped his head back, his long, blue-black hair tied in a low, scruffy bun at the nape of his neck, and laughed. “Oh man,” he said, eyes watering. “You should see your face.”

“But… how?” you faltered.

“Brackish mer,” he said. “We can shift at will. Though I still find these fuckers… weird,” he said, slapping one lean, skinny, denim-clad thigh with the palm of his hand. He wore a plain grey t-shirt and nondescript, slightly baggy jeans which rode invitingly low on his narrow hips. Your mouth went dry and you looked away.

“Well, that’s… unexpected,” you finally said.

“I’m Connor, by the way,” he said, holding out his hand to you. His fingers bore traces of webbing between them, stretching between the first knuckles of his fingers. Another reminder that although he walked on human legs, he was not, in fact, the same species. Your eyes darted to his neck and, sure enough, you saw three faint, almost scar-like, lines where his gills should be. Or perhaps they were still there but had closed over for his time on land. Merfolk anatomy was still very much a mystery to you.

You shook his hand as you introduced yourself by name, and felt how cool his skin was against yours. His grip was strong, his hands hard and smoothly callused. You wondered fleetingly what they’d feel like on your body. Fuck. Not helping.

Even in this new human form, he still had his row of pointed, predatory teeth, of which you were granted a beautiful view when he hitched his lips up into a lopsided grin and said, “Ready?”

You nodded mutely and allowed him to lead you through the town towards the northern side. A wide road led out of Starfall Springs, and Connor talked a mile a minute about everything as you passed it. He pointed out the marketplace on your left, and added, “I sell my catches there on Fridays.”

“You mean… you’re…”

“A fisherman,” he said. “Yes. There’s literally nothing, save for maybe another marlin mer, that can out-swim me. Even the tuna. I work with a team of open-water fishermen. We catch tuna and other fish and bring ‘em to market once a week. Sometimes we’re out for longer though.”

“How long?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a month or even six weeks sometimes? Depends on what we want to catch.”

“Do many of your kind do that sort of work? Are the rest of your crew merfolk?”

Connor shook his head. “Nah. It’s just me with the fish-tail on the team. And… most of my folks just keep to themselves, you know? They don’t get why I like humans and landfolk so much, and even though they can shift, they don’t.”

You tilted your head and snatched a sidelong look at him as you walked. He was lean and clearly very fit, with no sign of being puffed or overly warm despite the growing heat of the summer day. You on the other hand were getting distinctly warm under the collar, though you weren’t sure if it was the sun or the presence of the gorgeous merman walking beside you that was causing the reaction. You had your suspicions, though you kept those firmly to yourself.

Connor caught the look you gave him and tossed you another carefree grin. “Not quite sure what you’re thinking, but I’ll take a wild guess. Not all merfolk can shift, you know? And not many can shift the way we do. The more we do it, the easier it gets. Though it still hurts like a bitch.”

“What’s so fascinating about us? I mean, why do you do it?” you asked. As you did so, you caught sight of a butterfly sunning itself on an old, stone mile-marker and paused to focus your camera on it. The two of you had come to the edge of the town now, and the rolling countryside slid away from you in a series of gentle, undulating slopes adorned with orchards and vineyards to the north west, and the coastal road slid away to the north east.

All the while you snuck closer to the butterfly, Connor stayed silent and still on the road behind you, and when you’d got so close you could see the feather-like mosaic of colours on the butterfly’s wings through the view-finder, you snapped some shots, checked them reflexively, and then pulled back and blushed slightly to find him staring at you.

“What?” you challenged gently.

Connor only grinned and said, “Nothing. I just… wouldn’t have noticed that. You’ve got a quick eye, you know?”

You answered his gesture with one of your own. “Comes with the career, I guess.”

He led you off down a rugged footpath, having left your question about the fascination of landfolk unanswered, and as you passed by a battered-looking hut on your right, nestled among tall, flowering grasses dotted here and there with poppies, he said, “A friend of mine lives there. He’s a mer too, but he actually spends most of his time on land. Fuck though, you should see him as a mer. He’s got this big orca tail and these gorgeous markings…” he sighed.

“Sounds like you’ve got a crush,” you blurted.

Connor barked a laugh. “I did,” he admitted. “As a teenager, I crushed so hard on him that I forgot how to swim once and crashed straight into a wreck. He never let me live it down. We actually dated for a while when we were a bit older. Didn’t work out, but we’re still close.”

“That’s nice,” you mused, staring at the ramshackle cottage covered in honeysuckle and creeping ivy. “My exes don’t tend to want anything to do with me.”

“Is that a human women thing, or…?”

“Men,” you said absently, raising your camera to your eye to snap a quick shot of a passing seagull soaring just off the high cliffs below you.

“Oh,” he said, and when you looked back at him, he was staring at his shoes.

You smiled a soft, wonky smile, and continued in silence for a little bit, until the cove below opened up fully before you, and you gasped. “That’s gorgeous,” you breathed.

“Isn’t it?” He raised his hand, his bare, slender arms muscular and so inviting, and pointed at the rock arch at the end of the sweeping, sandy bay. “There are often fossils in that bit. You want to go take a closer look? See what we can find?”

His playful attitude was infectious, and the two of you were soon scrambling down the sandy, scree-slope path to the beach. At one point your soles slipped on the gravelly surface and you sat down hard on your backside with a grunt. Connor, three paces ahead of you on the narrow path, turned abruptly and snorted at the sight of you. “You alright?” he asked. When you nodded, a bit winded, he held out his hand again, and you accepted it without question and let him yank you back onto your feet.

The tide was creeping slowly out, leaving a swathe of dark, hard, wet sand behind, and the beach was littered with little shells and other gifts that the retreating water had left behind. Connor drifted away towards the waves and began to toss bits of debris at passing gulls, never close enough to hit, but accurately enough to make them wheel away, shrieking indignantly, which only made the mer laugh and yell at them.

In the short few hours you’d been with him, you’d come to love that laugh. His voice was husky and rough, like the rasp of dune marram grass disturbed by the wind, and his dark hair glimmered with a hint of blue in the strong sunlight. But there was something else to him that spoke of hidden currents beneath the surface. In moments when he thought you were otherwise occupied, the laughter died in him and a hollow sadness crept in at the edges.

It felt as though he were trying to forget something, trying to put something behind him, and he was focusing on you as an excuse to do it.

You barely knew him, so you didn’t press, but as you neared the cliffs and he wandered over to them, running his fingertips over the jagged, crumbling surfaces of the sandstone, you watched him more closely. He walked recklessly close to the base of the cliffs, picking at flaky portions of the rock until a rain of bits and dust scattered to the sandy beach at his feet.

“Connor?” you asked after watching him for a while.

“Mm?” The mer did not look up.

“What are you doing?”

He paused but still didn’t turn round. “Looking for fossils. Sometimes you can find ammonites and belemnites and…” he trailed off when he turned and saw the look on your face.

You shook your head. “I mean… why are you doing this with me? You saw some human taking photos at the harbour yesterday, and the next thing you’re volunteering to take me fossil hunting along the coast.”

“Can’t I want to do something nice for a handsome stranger?” he asked, a slight bite to his playful tone.

You simply looked at him flatly. “Sure you can,” you said. “But…”

“Forget it,” he said, shaking his head. Sections of his dark hair had come loose in the stiff breeze, and they whipped across his pale face and into his dark eyes.

You nodded. “Sorry I pushed,” you muttered, turning away and walking along the cliffs for a bit, hoping that a moment of privacy would give him a chance to recover.

The mood was different after that. The wind seemed to have a chill to it that you’d not noticed earlier, the calls of the seabirds almost mocking now, and as Connor slouched along the wet sand, he scuffed his heels and kept his hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’m hungry,” he said after perhaps half an hour of walking along the beach. “You want to head back to town?”

“Sure.”

The house martins’ high, trilling calls filled the air above as they darted in and out of their nests in the eaves of the old buildings with their terracotta roves and sandstone walls. You watched them and tried to snap some shots of them with your long lens. Connor watched you curiously and when you turned back to him he smiled softly, some of the warmth returning to his face. His skin was pale and smooth as porcelain, save for a few scars here and there, his cheekbones high and sharp, and his lips… there was something inviting about his soft lips. They curled slightly at the corners, making you think of stolen kisses and secret smiles.

He walked with you back to your house in near silence, but when you asked him inside, he shook his head. “Nah, I should to get back to the sea. Too much time on land isn’t good for me. Not just… physically…”

“Right. Well, thanks for today… for showing me around a bit. I had fun.”

Connor shrugged one shoulder, hands still in his pockets. “Figured it’d be a nice thing to do, you know? Since you don’t know anyone here yet.”

“I appreciate it. Let me know if you want to meet up again some time…”

A little light kindled in his dark eyes and he flashed you a sharp-toothed grin. “Alright,” he said. “I will. And I look forward to seeing your photographs in the gallery sometime soon…”

You answered him with a shy smile of your own and watched him walk away down the narrow, cobbled street, his hands in his pockets, his head bowed and his gaze fixed on the road directly in front of him.

After a day which had turned out in an entirely different way from the one you had imagined for yourself when you’d woken up, you settled down later that evening, having edited all your photos of the trip, and sank onto the old, squashy, comfy sofa, and sighed. There were still boxes everywhere, but now, with at least a fleeting connection made, you felt more tethered to the place. The task of unpacking didn’t seem so daunting, somehow. It seemed… worth it.

A bashing at your door just after ten o’clock frightened the living daylights out of you.

You stood and cautiously went to the front door, heart hammering in your chest, almost louder than the pounding on the wood. No one here knew you yet, and there was no call for anyone to be thudding away at the little red door at this time of night, surely?

Peeking through the tiny, warped glass window, you saw a pale face and frowned. It looked like Connor, but he’d said he was going back to the sea.

You opened it and found him listing heavily to one side, like a ship floundering on a reef, leaning all his weight against the thick wall of your cottage, his hair hanging loose into his face. “Shit,” he said when he saw your eyes wide with surprise. “Shit, I shouldn’t… Fuck.”

His words were thick and slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Connor? What happened?”

“So… I didn’t go back after all,” he said, swaying again and staggering as his body tried to adjust and correct. “Fuck.”

“Here,” you said, stepping forward and scooping your arm under his to help him inside. “Sit down before you fall down.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you chuckled. You’d dealt with drunk friends before, and manoeuvred him easily enough onto the sofa you’d just vacated.

“Walking is fucking hard,” he commented when you were halfway there. “I mean… I can just about manage at the best of times, but fuck me… I mean, you don’t have to do that. That’s not why I came here. You are gorgeous though. But… ah… fuck.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” you smiled, easing him down onto the sofa and taking a look at the greenish tinge to his cheeks. “Hey, you gonna throw up?”

“Maybe?” he said. Then, the more he thought about it, the greener he got.

“You sit tight. I’ll find a bowl or something. And a glass of water.”

When you came back, he was leaning forwards with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, trying to steady his breathing. “I’m… I’m gonna…” he said, and you instinctively shoved the bowl into the space in front of him. Just in time.

His body heaved and you rested the bowl on his knees while you held his hair back out of the way. You’d done this for girls at college who’d had hair as long as his, but you’d never done it for a guy. Somehow it felt different. More intimate, despite the fact that he was still practically a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say again between heaves.

It wasn’t long before he recovered enough for you to be able to leave him and deal with the bowl. When you returned, you found him, ashen-faced, sipping the water and looking frankly about as miserable as a wet raccoon. He even had the shadows under his eyes too, for sure.

“What happened?” you asked tentatively, sitting down beside him.

“Got thinking,” he said without opening his dark eyes.

“About?”

“Him.”

“Who’s ‘him’?” you asked, instantly knowing you were going to regret bringing this topic up.

He swallowed. “My ex.”

“Ah.”

“I had fun today, you know?” Connor said, casting you a careful, sideways look through squinted eyes. His dark gaze was still unfocused and glassy, but the pain in his eyes was clear as day. “It was nice. But it made me think…”

“Yeah, that can happen,” you said.

“He was a human too,” he said. “Is. He’s still around. Doing fine. Moved on to someone easier to be with, I guess. Someone who doesn’t need to sprout a fucking tail and go back to the sea. Hey, you know what he said? Right before he broke up with me?”

This was not a healthy line of conversation, but for now, you allowed it, sensing that he needed someone new with whom he could talk this through. He’d probably exhausted his friends with it already. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘you’ve got a nice ass, Connor, when you’re a human. It’s just a shame I can’t fuck a fish!’”

“Thats… wow, that’s callous.”

“Right? I’m not even a fish! Mer aren’t fish. We’re not mammals either. Fuck knows what we’re classed as. I don’t even care. But you can definitely fuck a mer. That’s for sure.”

“So, tell me then… how does alcohol affect mer?”

“Can’t you see?” he said sourly. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“Yeah, but… you gonna be ok?”

“I’ve been drunk before.”

“Why didn't you go back to the sea earlier? Have you been drinking all this time?”

Connor shook his head and then rapidly looked like he regretted it. He groaned and sat back on the sofa, eyes fluttering closed once again. “I walked up to the springs for a bit. I’m not… I’m not normally like this,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I don’t normally get drunk.”

The sadness in his tone struck you deeply. “I get it,” you said. “Breakups suck.”

“He sucks,” Connor retorted petulantly. “Ah, fuck. I should go. I don’t want you to see me like this. Not when… not… not after…” he broke off, shaking his head. He tried to stand but his knees gave way a little and he veered sideways.

You shot up to catch him before he face-planted onto the floor and, laughing gently, you laid him back down on the sofa. “You stay right there,” you said, helping him to lie down. “Sleep it off. Let me grab a blanket.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his eyelids already drooping.

By the time you returned with a blanket from a box upstairs, he was sound asleep. He was going to have one wicked hangover in the morning though.

You took his shoes off for him, surprised by how cold his feet were despite the socks and the temperature of the room. Maybe merfolk just ran cold; you recalled the coolness of his palm from earlier and shrugged. Somehow, he was still gorgeous, even pass-out drunk on your sofa.

You left the, now clean, bowl within hurling distance and hoped he wouldn’t need it, and made sure he was lying comfortably on his side with a cushion beneath his head. He didn't wake as you lifted him gently and slid the small cushion under his cheek, but you were surprised when he let out a deep, sleepy moan at your touch.

“Sleep well,” you said as you headed upstairs, leaving him with a large glass of water.

Morning came and you stretched groggily. It was only as you thought about taking yourself in hand to ease out the tension of your morning wood that you remembered that you were not alone in the house. Lying there for a little while longer, thinking about Connor and the sharp, chiselled planes of his face, did not help matters, and eventually you relented and closed your fist around your cock. You gasped at the rush of pleasure, and it wasn’t long at all til you were spilling into your hand, thinking about what it might be like to be with the merman. Guilt rushed in to replace the elation of your release when you remembered that he was not long into the first stages of post-breakup hell, and thinking about him that way was probably not the most appropriate thing in the world.

After a perfunctory clean up, you dressed and headed downstairs. The moment you reached the bottom of the staircase, you froze. The sounds drifting from the living room were not the sounds of morning pleasure. In fact, at a faint little whimper, you shot forwards into the room and saw that Connor was lying on his back on the sofa, writhing weakly and gasping.

“Connor?”

“Help,” he rasped, clawing at the blanket. As it slid slowly off him, you realised with a jolt of shock that the pile of clothing on the floor was his discarded jeans and t-shirt from the night before. Your eyes shifted back to his legs and you gasped. His skin was in the process of fusing together, turning dark and shadowy, his legs pressed together and clearly trying to become a tail.

“What do I do?” you asked helplessly. “Connor…”

He wheezed and jutted his head back, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. His hands were clawed now, the webbing stretching right up to the tops of his fingers, and visible as he flexed and balled his fingers in obvious pain. He looked across the room at you with his large, dolorous eyes, and tried to smile. “I…” a long, rattling inhale followed, and when he was finally able to speak again, he added, “I should have gone back to the sea. I -” he broke off with a sharp cry as his legs fused into a tail and his skin darkened to the familiar grey-blue you’d glimpsed in the water. The fan of his tail spread across the far end of the sofa, looking strangely like crumpled tissue paper.

“You’re gonna be heavy,” you said, “But I could probably carry you to the harbour from here if you need to be in the water. It’s not far. Maybe only a hundred yards or so?”

“Would you?” he asked, gratitude surging in his expression. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you said. In fact, you were the one worrying. He looked dried out, and probably the alcohol from the previous night wasn’t helping in the dehydration stakes. “C’mon. Let’s give it a go.”

You opened the front door and grabbed your keys before turning back to the merman who had now completed his transformation and was lying limply on the couch, breathing rapidly and shallowly. There was still a tight wheezing to his breaths, and you noticed how the gills on his neck had opened in a futile attempt to draw in more air.

“You good?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I will be. Shit, I’m so sorry. I tried to hold it off but… I can’t stay ‘human’ on land for too long. I pushed it by staying last night.”

Connor’s pale cheeks flushed crimson as you stooped and slid your arms under his tail and around his torso. He immediately latched his arm around your neck, and you rose, staggering slightly.

“Fuck, you’re heavier than you look…” you grunted.

“Isn’t that romantic,” he quipped, turning his face away. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it,” you said. “It’s been an interesting time lately for you. And nothing says ‘getting to know a guy’ like carrying him ‘bridal style’ to the water and tossing him in… you know?”

Connor managed a weak laugh. “I knew you were a good’un when I first saw you.”

“No you didn’t,” you retorted, letting the front door slam shut behind you.

“You’re right. I just saw a good looking guy and thought I’d try and get into your pants to make me feel better. Happy now?”

“You’re not in my pants…” you pointed out, grunting again as you adjusted his weight.

“No, but I’m in your arms. That’s pretty close…” He turned serious and added, “But you deserve more than some rebound fuck… I’m… I’m sorry. For all of this.”

“I’m not,” you said. “My back might be tomorrow, but…”

Connor laughed again, and buried his face at your collarbone. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Let’s get you to the harbour first, and then we can talk about making up. Or out…”

His grin was broad and toothy and genuine, and it went some way to reassuring you that he’d be ok.

It was a long, hard slog to the harbour, but you made it and just pitched him over the wall so that he fell, undignified and flailing, into the harbour mouth with a disgruntled squawk that made you laugh. The splash of his landing got you all the way up the front, but you sat down on the edge of the wall as he circled a little in the water, drawing water through his parched gills, and then bobbed up at the surface again, looking sheepish.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes fixed on his hands as he floated there in front of you.

“No problem,” you replied. “Seriously. I know what it’s like to go through a rough breakup. It’s shit. You seem like a good guy, and I’m happy to be here for you. I’d like to get to know you better anyway… regardless of what… you know… might happen down the line. Or not.”

Connor’s smile was as broad and white as it had ever been. “Thanks. I… I’m not sure I deserve that, but thanks anyway.”

“Look, I’ll let you get sorted out for now, but if you’re free tomorrow, meet me at the cove with the fossils again? You don’t have to come on legs this time either.”

He nodded, seeming surprised at your last comment. “Alright. I’ll see you there. What time?”

“Just before sunset?”

Connor nodded once more, and then disappeared in a flash of his tail as he sped away through the clear water of the harbour, out to the brackish waters of the estuary beyond the protective curve of the wall.

At sunset the following day, you had taken your shoes off and were enjoying the cool water with your jeans cuffed up when a splash further out to sea signalled the arrival of Connor. He looked brighter, healthier, and he powered up through the gentle, lapping surf and dragged his body up above the tide line to join you. “Hi,” he said, rolling onto his back and splaying his arms out at his sides like a starfish to recover his breath after the effort. “Fuck. I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’m not a complete drunken loser, I swear.”

“Like I said, I get it,” you said, standing beside him and staring out at the sun as it sank low above the horizon, heavy and as searing as a blacksmith’s coal over the water. You looked down at him then, and something began to thrum in you. You’d yet to see all of him like this, as he truly was, and he was even more beautiful than he’d been in his ‘human’ form. You hissed a soft curse to yourself, but he heard it and flashed a frown at you.

“What?”

“You’re… You’re stunning, Connor. I don’t know what your ex was thinking, but… you’re beautiful like this. Especially in this light.”

Connor blushed and looked away. Then, with a snort of laughter, he grabbed your ankle and knocked your knee out from behind you, sending you sprawling into the wet sand beside him. Your jeans soaked up the seawater instantly, and you gasped at the shock of the cold water.

He pulled you close and crushed a kiss against your lips before you had time to register it, and you found your body responding instantly. “Connor,” you panted, drawing back and finding his pupils fully dilated. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes,” he rasped. “I want you. Please…”

You ran your hands down his slender torso, to where his hips melted into the rough, pale skin of his shark-like lower half. The skin there was tough as fine sandpaper, and as you skimmed over his hips, he arched his spine and whimpered.

“Connor?”

“So good,” he mumbled. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

You lavished attention on the transition point at his hips, and he was soon a writhing, squirming wreck, left beached high above the retreating tide. His tail flopped uselessly, and his clawed fingers raked furrows in the hard, wet sand. He bucked upwards into you and you found a slit swelling and opening in his lower body. It was slick and as you guided your fingers to it, running your fingertips around the hot, silky walls of the inside, he yelped and moaned, biting his lip and swearing. “Fuck, yes, there… fuck. Fuck!”

And as you slid your fingertips further inside the slit, you found that the puffy, smooth walls hid a delightful surprise. Not one, but two cocks began to swell inside, and as you ran your finger along the slick interior, a large tentacle-like cock slid free and writhed idly in the cool, evening air. The second cock, a little smaller but equally hard and eager, slipped free a moment later, and writhed beside it.

“Well,” you said. “Isn’t that a surprise.”

Connor smirked softly and raised his hips weakly. “Please…” His cocks were leaking already, and a line of pre-come hung between them from tip to tip.

“How could you not have been enough for anyone?” you mused aloud, growing painfully hard yourself. Your cock was soon straining at your boxers, and you ached to run it between his twin cocks and feel the slickness of his heat against your body. “Can I?” you asked, and he nodded instantly.

You took both of his cocks in one hand and pumped them gently, the way you’d have taken a human’s cock in hand when just starting out, warming up and teasing. Connor tipped his head back and moaned deliciously, exposing his pale throat to you as he tried to grind his hips up into your hand, seeking more contact, more friction… more.

“Please…” he gasped a moment or two later. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“Anything, dammit,” he snarled, teeth on show. “Anything, just… it’s… it’s not enough… and… and I want to see you. Please, let me see you.”

“Just see?” you teased.

You were met with another growl and a row of white teeth.

“I’m not letting those pearly whites near my cock unless you grow some manners,” you snickered as you undressed, heedless that this was a public (if quiet) beach.

Once naked, you watched as Connor’s eyes drifted down your body to your hard cock and his pupils soared even wider. “Fuck, look at you,” he said. “You’re fucking perfect…”

“Connor, I want… I want to… but…”

“My slit…” he said. “Fuck my slit. Please. I’m slick enough…”

You needed no more encouragement.

You straddled the merman, feeling the hard, rough skin of his shark-like tail between your thighs, before you leaned over him, lowering your hard cock towards his own. His two cocks were both weeping, the tentacle-like shapes twisting in the cold air, desperately seeking out heat and contact. When they found your own, painfully hard cock, they instantly began to coil around your length, gripping you with incredible strength. They were leaking and wet, slippery and searingly hot, and you felt your balls tighten at the way they twined around you.

You swore and Connor groaned as you rocked your hips between them. His two cocks spiralled around your own gripping you so tightly it stole your breath completely. You swore, head tipping forwards over him as sparks ignited along your spine. His clawed hands found your back and he raked delicate, red lines across your skin as you rutted into him.

Your tip hit the entrance of the slit which contained his two cocks, and he cried out as you entered him.

“You want me… to stop?” you asked, breathless.

He shook his head. “Fuck no. Keep going. That’s amazing…”

You slid into him and as you did, his cocks gripped you tighter. “I’m not gonna last much longer if…” one of his cocks coiled around your balls and slid towards the cleft of your cheeks. “Oh fuck, Connor, I’m.. That’s…”

“You don’t want me to?” he managed to whisper.

“Please,” you said. “I need you…

And with your cock now buried fully in his slick sheath, and with one of his cocks wrapped tightly around your shaft, you felt his other cock slip inside you. The intrusion wasn’t as painful as you’d though it was going to be, having had no preparation, but perhaps that was because of the shape of him, and because it was the slightly smaller cock that was sinking into your ass. The tip of it nudged suddenly against your prostate and you saw white.

His other cock clenched around your own, and as he hit you again and again in that bundle of nerves, you cursed, grabbed his shoulders, bowed your head, and as that heat surged inside you, you spilled all over his chest. A second or two later, while you were still twitching and convulsing through your own release, Connor found his peak and emptied himself over his own stomach, and inside you with a wild, high yell of pleasure.

You felt his release hit you deep inside as well, and after a few seconds, it began to slide from you as his second cock softened a little.

His whole body twitched and shuddered, his eyes had rolled closed, and his chest gleamed with sweat.

Eventually he came back to you, and his tentacle-like cock unravelled from around your own and you rolled off him into the wet sand beside him. His chest rose and fell rapidly and his pale skin was flushed and heated with the exertion.

Connor reached clumsily across the space between you and ran his leathery palm over your stomach and up your chest to your neck where your heartbeat pounded. Limply, he rolled onto his side and kissed your throat, raking his teeth gently over your sensitive, flushed skin. “Gods, I came so hard…”

You snorted a smile back at him and he laughed, flopping back into the sand. “What are we doing?” he murmured.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But… I’m willing to see where it goes, if you are?”

“You mean you’re happy to fuck a fish?” he asked bitterly.

You rolled your eyes. “I just did, didn’t I?”

Connor offered you a lopsided grin and met your eyes askance. “Yeah. You did. Did you like it?”

You eyed the mess you’d both made of his torso pointedly.

Connor gave a final smile and pushed himself upright. Your combined mess slid down his front and you watched as his cocks retreated back into the sheath with slow, deliberate pulses.

He caught you watching him and blushed crimson.

“What?” you asked.

“I… Nothing,” he said, still not meeting your eye.

“You really are beautiful,” you said.

“Even like this?” he said with a deliberate flick of his tail.

You scowled and sat up too, reaching out and taking the back of his head in your hand.

His hair was wet, and he tasted of the sea, but you didn’t care.

You kissed him hard, biting his lip and making him moan and his eyes roll shut again.

When you pulled back, you practically growled, “Especially like this, Connor.”

************************************

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#merman #mermay #mlm #exophilia #mlm exophilia #male merman #male merfolk #male monster #male reader #alcohol

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