Is MerMay swimming along faster than expected, or is that just me?
Either way, here’s a short fantasy I’ve been meaning to share. This is an unfinished draft. Please don’t get too attached to it. I want to build up the story more later.
Content Note: Erotic content meant for adult readers only. Human/monster pairing.
It was during one of the storms when Jacky decided he’d risk himself to save the town.
Chatter in the pub was being shouted, the volume of voices raised enough to be heard over the thrashing of the heavy wind outside. Jacky sat with his mug at his favorite table in his favorite pub and pondered the mysterious storms, like this one, that had stopped work at the docks. Some of the closest voices could be heard.
“T’is the sirens,” sailors agreed over their ale. “They don’na want us riding their waters.”
Jacky remembered the drunken tales of his grandfather’s mates. As a boy, he’d slip under the dining table to listen to their talk of two-tailed mermaids who sang up storms. The old men had argued about how the mermaids used storms while rubbing themselves under the table.
“To keep themselves wet when they–”
“Ya dafter! It hid them from anyone not looking to–”
“It’s a test,” Grandad insisted. “Ya gotta hear through the wind. See through the rain. Feel through the fear.”
The recent storms had sunk ships. Men had disappeared in the waves. Their kin and the merchants had cause to complain. Docked ships cut into pay. Not even fishermen dared to go out far after months of unseasonal troubles.
But the thought about the fairy weather rose to the surface was this: the sirens wanted sailors. Jacky would uncover the reason why. He waited until a twilight when the quieted dockyard was clear of fog and the ocean’s edges reflected a rising moon that was almost full. No one else had cause to launch so late. No man or sea lion saw him to call to him about acting the fool. Pausing to light a lantern for company, he then rowed his dingy across the gray water toward a rocky island, not much but a giant rock in the ocean, that was said to belong to the sirens.He rowed to a slower beat than the thudding against his ribs.
He could see the siren’s island more clearly than the mainland when a song started, the melody rising until he could hear a flock of birds crying inside a windstorm. He gripped his painfully hard oar and listened for words. He heard none.
Fog rose up around him. With it came the feeling that the world had shrank to the soft edges of his lantern light.
His heart beat like the tail of a suffocating fish.
I’ll drown out here in a storm.
“Sirens want sailors.” Alive?
The fog pulled apart to reveal a glowing spot of water. Jacky stared. Long, slick flesh arched. The tip of a fin or pierced the surface. Fog filled in the spot.Wonder and fear mixed like water and salt. “Hello! My name is Jacky from the, from the sailing people. I want to know, er, the people who come from the sea!”Silence spread in the fog. He heard a muffled splash. Felt a tug on the dinghy. Jacky stored the oars. When the dinghy jerked violently, he held onto its wooden sides with both hands.He called into the flame-tinted fog. “Where’s our heading?”
“Muirph. Liche.” The words made no sense.
The boat, the man, and the creature of the sea moved together in the night.Jacky smelled land. The earth and green of it brought promise. “Is that your island?” he asked.
The boat lurched again and again until it dragged in shallow water. Without warning, the bow swung to the side. Jacky braced to avoid tipping out.
“Liche. Guh. Gurrrrh.”
His lamp spread its light onto a rocky beach. Jacky stepped onto compacted sand.
“Where are you–” But he sensed the siren as if summoned to look. Awe guided his eyes to the shape of stone rising into a clear, moon-silver sky then down to two, large, round stones. Lounging back into the crack between the boulders nestled a lovely monster.
The monster was part man and part twin eels. Glowing as if dipped up to its waist in paint from a green star, its twin tails were long and serpentine, wrapped around each other at the base as if the creature crossed its ankles. Black spots looking like blood spatter in glowing paint opened into black streaks down the eel bodies.If the serpent of Eden had given Eve children to rule the sea, one gazed back at Jacky now with clever, black eyes. More than any child of the sea, this one watched him as if from a throne of a fairy prince.
Feeling shy as a lost soul, Jacky said, “Good evening.”
The siren on the boulders moved a hand up into the moon-silver expanse between its waist and smooth, lean chest.
Jacky’s lad stirred.
His shipmates argued over who made for the best fucks, the plump wives with soft handles to hold or the wiry lasses with loads of energy. Jacky quietly kept his opinion to himself. Woman or man, he preferred the feel of hard muscles against his.
Sirens want sailors.
Not to eat. Anyhow, not as a meal, Jacky was sure.
This siren’s caress slide down to where its tails split. The silvery, beardless chin tilted up in response.
Jacky adjusted his lad to the side. “Do you know my tongue?” he asked.
His head filled with mist. Desire sang settled into the body as desire. The beautiful sea person’s mouth moved in a tantalizing rhythm.
“None of that now,” Jacky slurred. “I was askin’ how well ya speak. I’ll be coming to ya either way.”
The siren stopped singing and stared down the ridge that could be its nose. “Come?”
“Aye.” Jacky’s voice carried in a loud breath. The waves rhythm caught up the sound of his rushing blood. “I’ll come to ya.”
Jacky set his lantern down on the beach. The glow of the siren’s body would give him enough light. He loosened the ties at his waist and pulled his shirt loose before he stepped across the dark, rocky sand.
The twin tails spread open over the rocks like giant schlongs. The siren rubbed and rubbed and rubbed…
The stone was cool under his hands as he climbed the rocks. He would warm them beneath them on the monster’s body.
One of the twin tails reached for him, slid against him. The tails wrapped around him. One slid up his side, pulling his shirt up. Smooth, cool flesh pressed up against his ribs. He reached around and caressed the length from his side up toward the siren’s hips. Fabric and strings pulled around his groin. The siren was tugging him loose. Song filled him from head to limbs.
He was dizzy with lust. To feel this body against his was all the wanted. His pants had to go, had to wash away in the flow backwards to the unwanted darkness, away from the glowing beauty of the singing sea maid or man.
His lad came free–glorious freedom! Jacky pressed into the smooth moonglow groin between tails, pulling him tighter, and his hands explored the darker chest as smooth and cool as glass. Smells of the ocean filled his breath. His mouth found the hard collarbone and latched onto savory skin.
The siren made an exquisite noise, musical chirps. Strong arms pushed him back. Slender fingers pushed between their bodies to take hold of his eager lad. Stroke, stroke, stroke, and that is how Jacky become a rowboat sliding across his own mind.
The weather cleared. Business returned to the docks. A fortnight after, Jacky was thinking he wouldn’t mind a day’s break.
But when sailors complained of a siren’s song bringing in the purple thunderstorm that weighed down the air and threatened to drop wall after wall of pouring rain onto the shore, he watched for an opening, for when the wind lessened, the lightning lifted, and the rain lightened.
He pushed his dinghy off the dock toward the siren’s island.