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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year ago

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omg oooooh my god, thiiiis was aaaaaah

Calanmai's Pearl 🦪

Summary: Tarquin, High Lord of the Summer Court, participates in his first Calanmai as High Lord. Will he slip into his beast form? Who will be the lucky female?

Happy MerMay and Calanmai Month! Thank you to @thelovelymadone for the beta 💖 | Read on AO3

Warnings: Monsterfucking, Mer-males (?), Porn Without Plot

Masked fae pounded seal skin drums in perfect unison, their sonorous beats vibrating the High Lord of Summer’s very bones. Standing on the pleasure barge, with heat from the blazing torches warming his back, Tarquin gazed across the moonlit sea.

Fire Night out on the water.

His court’s magic had been severely weakened due to his confinement Under the Mountain—in fact, most of Prythian’s courts were in total shambles. Tamlin, who was the only High Lord routinely keeping up with Calanmai, had been burdened with resolving Amarantha’s curse. Tarquin couldn’t decide which was worse: not being able to renew his court’s magic, or being tasked with such tremendous duty. Last Calanmai, Amarantha had been overconfident about her impending success, and released the High Lords. But she still prevented them from partaking in the Great Rite in their home courts.

For the first time in forty-nine years, the Summer Court would celebrate Calanmai to its fullest extent. Already, the streets of Adriata were crowded with revelers, the beaches stacked with cots, blankets, and plenty of food and drink vendors. All sorts of fae would be engaging in lascivious activities—young, old, High Fae, Lesser Fae, males, females—all doing their duty to regenerate their court’s magic.

With tonight being Tarquin’s first Calanmai as High Lord, the pressure multiplied by two-fold. The Great Rite was a ritual of tantamount importance; he had done his research but still wasn’t sure what to expect. The possibility of slipping into his beast form during Calanmai stressed him out. Tarquin had never attempted the switch, and had no inkling what his beast form would even be having returned to full power only a few months ago.

He was expecting tonight to be full of surprises.

Silvery-white hair hung loosely at Tarquin’s shoulders, pulled back from his forehead with a coral crown. His dark brown skin had been massaged with an oil so fragrant, it nearly overpowered the salty brine of the sea. Beads of sea glass fanned over his collarbone from the gold necklace encircling his neck.

He was bare-chested and bare-footed, with only a knee-length swath of geometric-patterned fabric clinging to his hips. Two slits in the skirt allowed freedom of movement, something Tarquin was thankful for. What good was it to possess otherworldly sexual prowess tonight, and end up struggling with formal attire? That would certainly be a mood-killer.

The chatter of priestesses and other beautiful females in the backdrop was a constant reminder of the task to come. They mingled closely in hopes of being chosen by the High Lord for the Great Rite, but were still eager to settle for the myriad handsome Fae males on the barge.

It was time to begin. The High Priestess of the Summer Court, adorned in a two-piece navy garment, approached Tarquin and scooped up a goblet of seawater from the ocean. Her mate, a High Fae female hailing from Autumn, stood by proudly. From the heated looks and small smiles they gave each other, Tarquin could tell both females were looking forward to the revelry tonight.

Her voice rang out loud and clear as she spoke a prayer to the Mother, and a blessing for the fertility of the court.

“My lord,” she intoned, extending the goblet to Tarquin. “You may drink from the life-giving waters.”

Here in the Summer Court, the Great Rite was activated by drinking seawater, reflecting the essence of the High Lord’s power. Tarquin swallowed down not only the lukewarm salty water, but also the strong urge to cough it right back up.

Almost at once the world shifted. Tremendous power churned in the sea, an invisible wave rushing up Tarquin’s feet. The primal part of him reacted with excitement, like a surfer sighting the perfect wave. He clenched his fists. Well shit. That was the beast inside responding to magic’s call.

As if the seawater was laced with hallucinogens, the contrast between light and shadow deepend, the world pulsating with kaleidoscope color. Tarquin winced, applying pressure to his temples. There was a bellowing sound—was that him, making that noise? Tarquin ground his teeth as the assailing power rearranged his skin and bones. His legs wobbled; he could barely stand.

He couldn’t stand.

Tarquin tried to grab onto the wooden railing as his knees buckled. But he completely missed, toppling into the water instead like some inebriated drunk.

Splash! Being weightless in water only added to the disorientation. Tarquin’s lungs tightened, his blood pumping hot with adrenaline.

The surface! He had to get to the surface. He needed air. Tarquin kicked his feet trying to figure out which way was up and which way was down. His body jerked clumsily in response, causing him to glance down. Tarquin’s stomach dropped. His legs weren’t listening to him because he had…a tail.

The High Lord of Summer had transformed into a mer creature.

Gasps arose from the barge when Tarquin broke through the surface. Tarquin treaded water, struggling to familiarize himself with his new body. He had webbed fingers now, tipped with sharp nails. Those same fingers traced the edge of his abdominal v-line, where his dark skin transitioned into iridescent turquoise scales the size of large coppers.

The end of his long tail tapered into a fin of matte dusty blue. Two pelvic fins of the same color flared elegantly off his tail, like the billowing fins of a betta fish. Tarquin tested out his new appendage with a dolphin kick, flexing the muscles in his abdomen. His tail continued the fluid motion far better than his High Fae legs ever could, propelling him swiftly through the depths.

He could even breathe underwater, thanks to the two sets of gills positioned along his ribs. The slitted openings flared open and shut, allowing warm water to pass through his lungs as if it was air. And his new ears—they heard things underwater more keenly than ever. Like the clicking of crabs, the murmurs of fish. They sensed the drums’ vibrations through the water, a reminder that there was no time to waste.

Tarquin smiled, a fearsome sight now that his teeth had transformed into gleaming sharp points. In his beast form, he could be one with the sea. And as a beast, there was only one thing on his mind: the hunt for the right female.

She wasn’t on the pleasure barge.

Tarquin cut through the dark ocean with deadly stealth, following the flow of magic winding along the coast like a fish swimming down a stream. He could see perfectly well in the muddled gray water thanks to mer vision. Coral reefs buzzed with activity, with schools of fish oscillating in perfect sync and larger animals on their nightly hunts. Like a shark driven by blood, Tarquin zig-zagged between rock formations and kelp forests with powerful tail strokes and hungry maw. Find her, his instincts pressed. Take her, they said.

There it was—right there, in the waters of a moonlit cave, was where the alluring symphony of magic finished its final note.

Lanea was standing in the cave’s shallow waters when a monstrous creature twice her size erupted from the depths. She stumbled back, for the creature’s white pointy teeth were bared in a territorial hiss. A sharp intake of breath loosed from her lips, causing it—him—to snap his head towards her, eyes glowing like a cat in the dark. With those turquoise eyes, coral crown, and shoulder-length white hair…the monstrous creature could be none other than—

“High Lord?” she whispered shakily. She noted the powerful tail sending waves rolling in its wake. The small fins protruding from where his pointed Fae ears would have normally been. And the smattering of turquoise scales across his high cheekbones and down his neck. Cauldron boil her…the High Lord was mer.

Tarquin’s ferocious gaze abated slightly as he registered the female before him, with her large, wide-set yellow eyes and muted green skin. Her waist-length blue hair draped over a heart-shaped face, complete with a supple mouth, flat nose and small nostrils, and dappled white markings on her cheeks. His instincts had led him to a water nymph.

That trembling mouth was the target of his fixation as he slowly closed the distance between them. He would kiss that mouth again and again to find out what she tasted like. Maybe he would have those pretty lips wrapped around his cock before the night ended.

The white gossamer fabric that swooped loosely under her breasts and over her hips turned translucent in water, revealing long mossy green legs. What a pleasing sight. Tarquin’s tail instinctively swished with excitement.

Lanea had heard plenty of stories about Tarquin’s passionate and genuine heart in the last few months. She was even guilty of gossiping with her friends over how handsome he was.

The first time she saw her High Lord, he had been newly freed from Under the Mountain. The young male stood tall and proud as he rode down Adriata’s streets, acknowledging his people with a warm smile. Lanea had avidly cheered not just because his return signaled the end of Amarantha’s reign, but also because his kind face promised a new era for Lesser Fae like her.

But the gentle, smiling High Lord was gone. In his place was a beast simmering with primal magic, looking at her like she was a delectable thing ready to be devoured. It was Calanmai. And if she was the first female Tarquin sought out…the realization set her face aflame.

“Is this what you want?” Tarquin gritted out. His gills flared open and shut—whether it was from arousal or restraint, he did not know. It took every bit of focus to stave off his urges to bed the nymph right then and there. He needed to get a hold of himself before he scared the female off—or did something he would regret once the Great Rite’s magic wore off.

Shock and desire flitted across the nymph’s ethereal face. Fear. Lust. And then trepidation once again. He could smell her sweet arousal over the water, and he knew she could smell him too.

“Yes,” she replied in a small voice. The mer High Lord drifted closer with predatory intensity. “But—”

“But what?” Tarquin cringed internally at his impatient snarl. He was thinking with his dick, which was getting harder to ignore. He could feel it now, the foreign appendage extending from a flap of skin-and-scales in his tail, threatening to show through his skirt. The longer he gazed at the beautiful water nymph, the harder it grew.

“Why me? Why not a High Fae female?”

Right. With his courtiers and advisors deeming Lesser Fae unworthy of even sharing the same opportunities and spaces as the High Fae, it seemed that this water nymph was more anxious about social stigma than the prospect of bedding the High Lord himself.

“You know I don’t care about that,” Tarquin replied roughly. He meant it, and could only hope his sincerity went through.

A moment of silence passed. Then the female bowed her head, blue hair half-concealing her small smile.

“Then I would be honored to participate in the Great Rite.”

Lanea had some experience with the feral lust that clouded one’s senses during Calanmai, but she still bleated with shock when her High Lord closed the gap between them in two powerful strokes of his tail and pulled her into the water. The cave’s saltwater pool was deep, its waters cool. His massive hands encircled her waist, holding her close as they bobbed upright.

Lanea pressed her palms against his sculpted chest, peering up his towering form. Up close, Tarquin’s mer face was sharper. Almost cruel. And as merciless and beautiful as the sea.

They remained locked in a breathless embrace for several moments, until Tarquin’s tail swished between her legs. Its flared end and the current flowing in its wake were like a lover’s touch against her skin, making her moan. The mer’s razor sharp teeth, however, reminded Lanea that the High Lords’ beast forms were the most unchecked version of themselves. He was dangerous.

“What is your name, pretty one?” he rasped. It had been so long since Tarquin had been able to let his inhibitions go. He certainly couldn’t let his guard down while Under the Mountain, and he barely had time in his busy schedule to sleep with any females. Now that he was gripping her plush hips and hearing the little noises of pleasure wrought only from his tail, Tarquin was fighting against the animalistic urge to fuck her senseless. Breathing deeply in and out through his nose helped. A little.

“Lanea,” she answered softly. There was still doubt written across Lanea’s face regarding her suitability, so Tarquin lifted her other hand out of the water, flattening his palm against hers. Webbed fingers against webbed fingers. Shit. His sensible manners were eroding faster than a sandcastle come high tide.

“My hands look just like yours,” he said. “The magic chose you, Lanea. Don’t you see how well we would fit together?” Lanea noted the tight edge to his voice that implied they would be fitting together in other ways shortly. Tarquin’s lips pressed against hers. Gentle and sweet, which was everything she’d expected from kissing her gallant High Lord. Lanea smiled bashfully, looking down.

“Yes, my lord,” she responded obediently. Acknowledging his rank had Tarquin’s luminous turquoise eyes shifting into dark saucers of desire. As if something primal in him had snapped.

“But no more niceties.” Tarquin’s sharp nails pressed into the soft skin of her chin as he tipped her head up. His mouth curled in a sinful smile, all gleaming white teeth ready to devour like the beast he had become. “What’s a pretty female doing out on a night like this? When so many dangerous creatures are on the hunt?”

“I wasn’t expecting you to—ah!” Lanea’s words were cut short when Tarquin’s nose skimmed the side of her neck, breathing in her arousal deeply.

“You smell delicious, little nymph. And right now, you are the only one who can satiate me.” Tarquin’s teeth nipped her plush bottom lip, drawing blood. He savored the iron tang on his tongue, the taste of it only heightening his prey drive.

“H-high Lord,” Lanea whimpered as his tail swept past her calf again. She hooked her thighs around his torso, rubbing against his clothed erection. Tarquin kissed her more insistently to soothe the ache, grunting appreciatively when Lanea’s tongue delved into his mouth. Either she was courageous, or incredibly turned on if she was willing to cut his tongue on his razor sharp teeth. He swam them both into shallower waters, propping her onto a sandbar.

Lanea spread her legs instinctively, tightness pooling between her legs when she recalled how his stiff length pressed against her lower belly. Her hand seductively trailed up her thigh, bunching her flowing gown around her waist.

Fuck. Everything waist down was submerged in water, but Tarquin saw she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Her labia was the same shade of green as the rest of her skin, with a groomed tuft of dark blue hair on her mound. Tarquin’s pointed tongue swept his lips at the sight of her, splayed out before him.

“Aren’t you a beautiful thing,” Tarquin rumbled with approval as he dragged himself between her legs, his tail slightly cumbersome in the shallow water. Water dripped down the High Lord’s face, his massive frame blotting moonlight. “Spread nice and open for your High Lord.”

The wet gown clung to the nymph’s body, inviting Tarquin to lean in and lick her pebbled nipple through the fabric. Her back arched in response, and he licked her again, drawing a pained whimper from her pretty mouth. Tarquin slit the front of her dress from neckline to waist, pushing the damp fabric aside for better access to her breasts. He would apologize later—right now, his mouth needed to taste her bare skin.

Lanea undid the knot that held Tarquin’s skirt up with trembling fingers. She’d heard stories from her adventurous cousins who dared interlope with the mer, but nothing could have truly prepared her for what she saw next.

“Beautiful,” she breathed, staring at the turquoise scales that speckled Tarquin’s abdomen, growing denser and denser as it melted into his magnificent tail.

And then she saw his cock.

Larger than that of an average Fae male, it looked like a tentacle: smooth, with the tip tapering into a pointed end instead of the round cockheads she was more familiar with. Instead of being colored pale white or pink, Tarquin’s mer cock was an earthy brown shade that matched his upper body skin tone. It was already leaking precum.

And it cast a long shadow over her body in the silvery moonlight.

Lanea gulped.

Tarquin let out a throaty chuckle. “I can’t promise to be gentle.” His sensual mouth leaned in, tickling her ear. “But I am not a selfish High Lord, and I will have you cumming for me before the night ends.”

Lanea was tempted to grasp it in her hand first, to see how a mer penis really felt, but Tarquin already positioned himself between her legs, his heavy cock running along the wet folds of her pussy. That preemptive rocking motion, with its tapered end brushing her clit underwater, was the only warning before—

“Fuck,” Tarquin bellowed—

“The Mother be with me,” Lanea gasped as her High Lord thrust himself into her with a mighty stroke. A heady sensation swept over her, heightening her five senses to the point of unbearable.

The water nymph seemed to pass out momentarily from the tsunami-like wave of pure magic slamming into both of them. Even Tarquin’s elbows shook under the weight of it—it was like regaining his powers in a sudden rush after Amarantha died all over again. He stiffened, breathing hard against the onslaught. After several moments the nymph’s pretty yellow eyes fluttered open, breasts heaving as she tried to acclimate to his cock inside her.

Tarquin withdrew, and Lanea sighed with relief. But she wouldn’t remain empty for long. Not while the essence of his court flowed through him, searching for an outlet. Tarquin bucked his hips, plunging into her again with a loud groan.

“T-Tarquin…please. It’s too much!” Lanea keened unintelligibly, her legs trembling. Was it possible to die from fucking mer cock? It was the thickest at the base, stretching her entrance just the edge of painful. Not to mention the tapered end deep inside her writhed with a mind of its own, prodding sensitive areas that had never been touched.

“Relax, sweetling” Tarquin panted, voice ragged. “You can take your High Lord’s cock, can’t you?”

Lanea nodded, eyes watering. “Y-yes, I c-c-can,” she stuttered, as Tarquin sank into her for the third time. Her body was adjusting. It did feel nice, would probably feel nicer if he was being gentle. But Tarquin was not in the mood for slow love-making. Calanmai was for fucking.

“Shit,” he growled, slamming into her again. Scales clapped against skin, the noise exaggerated by the smacking of water between them. The nymph’s back arched, his cock’s slight bulge in her lower abdomen visible even through her sodden dress. A feral sound arose from his throat at the sight. “So fucking tight. So perfect, Lanea.”

Lanea nodded dazedly, unable to comprehend her name falling from her High Lord’s lips. Her hands scrabbled for some sort of purchase on the ground, but there was only crumbling sand. That left her with no choice but to cling to Tarquin’s broad shoulders, threading her fingers through his damp white locks as he fucked her.

Raw magic, more powerful than anything Tarquin had ever known, filled every pore of his body when he withdrew from Lanea. Every thrust forward channeled the crackling energy through her form and into the water. Into the land. This—this was the true Calanmai experience.

“I’ve never—ah!” Lanea stuttered at Tarquin’s sharp nails tracing the sensitive underside of her exposed breast. The sea glass beads on Tarquin’s gold necklace clacked against each other as he moved above her. “Never f-fucked a mer before.”

“Good,” Tarquin’s voice was edged with possessiveness. “I’m the first one to fill you up, hmm? Molding you to the shape of a mer cock?”

The magic was clearly driving him wild, making the sweet-mannered High Lord say the most salacious things in her ear. But Lanea loved seeing this side of him, and even preened with satisfaction as well knowing she was the first female to experience this.

“Yes, my lord,” Lanea said, throwing her head back and allowing him access to her throat. “Please, Tarquin. I need more.”

“Good girl,” Tarquin purred as his nail swiped the curve of her breast with a touch more pressure. “Because you’re mine tonight.”

“And I’m the first female to fuck the High Lord of Summer in his beast form,” she panted through her teeth.

“Damn right you are,” Tarquin’s turquoise eyes darkened with carnal lust. “You’re taking me so well. Keep your pretty eyes on me, won’t you?” he crooned, relishing in the way the nymph’s eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, struggling to maintain eye contact as his cock burrowed into her.

His iridescent tail undulated between her legs in smooth, liquid motions that splashed the water with each rhythmic thrust. Sounds of sloshing and slapping reverberated off the cavern walls.

Tarquin could see his cock sliding in and out of her with ease, thanks to some mer secretion that provided lubricant for underwater fucking. His webbed hands dug into the soft sand as the water nymph’s delicious noises heightened his primal drive.

The more erratic his thrusts became, the more his scales chafed against her inner thighs. The nymph was reduced to a mewling and moaning mess, her blue hair and shoulders sandy, moonlight glowing on her beautiful face.

“I love the little noises you make when I fuck you,” Tarquin praised. “Go on, scream a little louder for your High Lord. No one is around to hear.”

Her walls clenched at his words, the incredible heat squeezing his cock perfectly. “Oh? Or would you prefer others to be here, watching us?” He chuckled lowly. “Such a naughty female.”

“Harder, Tarquin. Please,” Lanea begged. “I want—” his cock pounded into her. “I want them to hear how—” a loud, wet sound echoed off the walls, “how you fuck me.” She gripped his hair tightly, earning her a particularly territorial growl. “All the way in Adriata.”

Tarquin embedded himself to the hilt, drawing a loud whimper from her. He leaned in, panting. “Then scream.”

Whether it was the unique sensation of mer cock in her pussy or the headiness of the magic passing through them that caused Lanea’s eyes to roll with pleasure, she didn’t know. She didn’t care anymore. She opened her mouth and let her screams of pleasure pour forth.

Tarquin mindlessly rutted into Lanea’s heat, chasing his high as his body grew more taut with each passing second. Pleasure wrought from the snug fit of her walls traveled down the length of his mer tail, lighting up thousands of new nerves along the way.

“T-Tarquin,” Lanea half-stuttered, half-cried out. “Fuck!” The High Lord’s panting grew louder, water from his erratic thrusts spraying onto her bare chest. She could feel the upper half of Tarquin’s cock stiffening in response to her fluttering core, and braced himself for the final slam of magic.

Tarquin snarled as he came, nails digging into Lanea’s waist as he emptied himself into her warmth. The ground rumbled, the tide momentarily stilled. Blue threads of pure magic glowed on the ground, spreading from their conjoined bodies. The threads would criss-cross the land in an intricate web, signaling the completion of the Great Rite.

Now, all of the Summer Court’s inhabitants would be free to engage in a night-long orgy.

The faint buzzing sensation in his head ebbed after his climax. Tarquin extricated himself, sinking back into the water. A beseeching noise escaped Lanea’s lips at the gaping emptiness. Tarquin watched the female carefully as she sat up to regain her bearings. Her cheeks were flushed a deeper shade of green, a well-fucked look in her gold eyes.

“If you have another place to be, I cannot stop you.” Tarquin finally found his voice. She had just completed the Great Rite with the High Lord, and she likely had enough. “I am sorry if it was unpleasant. It’s my first time shifting into a mer, I’ll admit this tail is a bit unwieldy.”

Lanea only tilted her head, contemplating him with a small smile. She stood up, rearranging the torn bits of her dress.

“You’re lucky water nymphs can breathe underwater, High Lord, because there is a thing or two I’d like to explore with your mer form.” Tarquin’s grin matched Lanea’s as she waded into the water, looking every bit like a beautiful sea goddess. He gallantly held out a hand, pulling her into the deep water gently.

“I suppose I haven’t made my sweet nymph come yet,” Tarquin murmured, tucking a strand of blue hair behind her curved ear. He could feel his cock hardening again. “Good thing we have all night.”

***

Salty water sprayed Lanea’s face as she took her High Lord’s cock in her mouth. She lay on top of him in the water, her legs split open as he feasted on her from below. Mer tongue…Lanea couldn’t see it, but it felt longer and thicker than an average Fae male’s. It certainly felt better, too.

Lanea alternated between swirling her tongue from his base to his tip and bobbing her head up and down. Tarquin’s member was not as smooth as she’d initially thought—there was a ridge of small bumps that scraped the back of her throat. The entire thing was lubricated with musky precum, amplifying the wet sounds she made as she sucked his cock.

Tarquin was careful with his pointy teeth as his expert tongue lapped at her pussy, hot and insistent. Gods, the High Lord sure knew what he was doing. The snapping release in her core arrived unexpectedly. Lanea’s garbled moan around his cock sent vibrations down Tarquin’s tail once more, pushing him over the edge. His tail jerked suddenly, hot cum flooding her throat as he came in her mouth.

The nymph sagged on top of him, quivering from her climax. Both parties providing oral pleasure in the water—now this was Tarquin’s new favorite position. His sharp canines scraped her inner thigh as he smiled with male satisfaction when Lanea’s legs clamped around his head, trapping him in bliss.

Tarquin only continued his ministrations, taking his sweet time edging Lanea closer to orgasm before backing off. And again. And again.

“Prick,” he heard her hiss.

Tarquin chuckled. “I made you cum, didn’t I? Now it’s time for some fun.”

Why did Lanea ever think her High Lord was a sweet, courteous male? His wicked tongue swirling around her clit clearly indicated otherwise. Lanea’s thighs shook with sensitivity as she squirmed on Tarquin’s face. His clawed hands dug deeper into her thighs, preventing her from moving too far away.

She stroked the dusty blue fin at the end of Tarquin’s tail, marveling at the delicate softness of it. Tarquin groaned, bucking his hips abruptly. The tapered end of his cock slammed into the back of her throat; Lanea choked. Was his fin hypersensitive? Well, well, well. She now had a trick up her sleeve—two could play this game.

***

Tarquin finally rewarded her with the long-awaited climax. Lanea floated on her back, feeling like her limbs had turned into jelly. Once she got her bearings again, she realized the High Lord had disappeared. Lanea frowned, wondering if this was how he planned to leave her, even after declaring they had all night to spend together. Did she do something wrong?

Several moments passed.

“High Lord?” Lanea called out, treading water upright. Waves crashing against the mouth of the cave and the soft dripping of water were the only sounds she heard. “Tarquin?”

The upper half of her gown was in tatters, thanks to his claws from earlier, but her skirts were intact. They floated around her, like the billowing membrane of a jellyfish.

“Oh!” Lanea gasped when a feathery-light fin brushed her clit. Tarquin snuck up on her from below, his turquoise scales flashing in the depths. A webbed fin replaced the tail by caressing her thigh possessively.

So this was what the High Lord had in mind. Lanea resorted to using only her arms to tread water. A finger ran along the seam of her pussy, not once, not twice, but three times. She stifled a whimper. A mer creature, fingering an innocent swimmer…Lanea closed her eyes, allowing her imagination to take hold.

Tarquin was having the time of his life, even without the Great Rite’s magic egging him on. He dipped his finger past Lanea’s folds, slowly. He was still getting used to his new body, and didn’t want to accidentally maim her with his sharp claws. Tarquin frowned, honing his magic a little more. There; the sharp claws had been magicked away. His tail swished with delight: now the fun could truly begin.

“Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods,” came Lanea’s muffled voice from above, as Tarquin probed her pussy with his finger. In, in, in it went, until he could go no further. She was so soft, so warm. He missed having his cock buried in her already, but he wanted to play with her a bit more. Tarquin began to jerk his wrist, buoying the nymph up and down, up and down whenever he sank his finger into her.

He stroked the slightly ridged walls of her sweet cunt, relishing in the splashing vibrations Lanea created as she bounced on his hand.

Tarquin could hear her stammering a mixture of curses and pleas as he added a second finger. Sound did not travel as well between air and water, and he yearned to know what she was saying. The High Lord of Summer smiled wolfishly under water. He could be a patient male, and wring those exact words from her mouth later.

Her walls tightened around his fingers as she came.

***

They rested for a bit, lazily treading water and silently admiring the constellations that shone through the hole in the roof. Lanea ran her fingers through Tarquin’s hair, an act of intimacy she never would have dreamed possible. A companionable silence fell over them as the High Lord tucked her into his muscled arms, her back pressed against his broad chest.

***

The tender gestures from her High Lord were tossed out the window when he pounded into her from behind, wholly underwater.

When Tarquin had approached her with a length of thick kelp, Lanea couldn’t help but giggle with amusement. The High Lord of Summer was truly a male of duality. She breathed in the warm water as Tarquin pulled her down into the cave’s depths. She had allowed him to tie her hands behind her back with it, bending her torso forward and keeping her legs closed together.

Lanea’s third eyelid permitted underwater vision. Not that there was much to see, since Tarquin positioned her from behind. His mer cock thigh-fucked her with slow, luxurious strokes. Lanea let out a little moan, wiggling her hips in anticipation.

“Behave,” she heard him growl, lightly tapping her bare ass.

“It’s not fair of you to tease me. We need a mirror in here,” she had commented as nonchalantly as possible, knowing that it was wishful thinking for the High Lord to seek her out again after tonight.

“That I can agree with,” Tarquin had conceded with a grin as he notched his tapered cock against her opening. She held her breath in anticipation, emitting a moan when Tarquin plunged in again. That initial sensation of being filled to the brim still made her eyes roll with bliss.

“Fuck, Lanea,” Tarquin groaned, his voice clear in the water. “You feel so good.” One hand gripped her hips firmly. The other hand maintained a tight hold on the kelp rope, leveraging it as he slammed his scaled hips against the nymph. His abdominal muscles flexed, his gills flared rapidly as Tarquin increased his pace.

Mother above, she was truly divine.

The rippling current of water from Tarquin’s thrusts tickled Lanea’s clit, spiraling her into an orgasm. She let out a garbled wail, bubbles escaping her mouth. The High Lord was not far behind, pulling the kelp rope taut as his rutting became more erratic. The mer cock throbbed twice before spurting ropes of hot seed against her still-pulsating walls.

***

From the speed at which Lanea came from fucking underwater, Tarquin had an idea. He hauled their panting asses onto a sandy alcove in the cave, peppering kisses along Lanea’s mossy green throat.

“Tarquin,” Lanea moaned, trying to sit up. Gods, how he loved the sound of his name on that female’s lips. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“Relax, sweetling.” Tarquin gently pushed her down and tapped her legs. “Open up for me, again, won’t you?”

“Yes, my lord,” Lanea sighed, letting her head drop down on the pillowy sand. Her pretty pussy was bared open, tantalizing in the pale moonlight. Tarquin summoned a thin stream of water from the sea, purifying it with his magic, and sweeping it over her clit. Lanea’s head shot up in surprise. “Tarquin!” she cried, voice a mixture of embarrassment and shock.

“Shhh,” Tarquin pushed her down once again, holding her chin with his webbed hand. His ravenous expression, complete with flashing teeth, reflected back at him in her large, dilated eyes. “Let me take care of you. My darling pearl has been so good for me tonight.”

“Mmmmhh,” Lanea let out a muffled moan when he kissed her on the lips, the stream of water still running over her sensitive clit.

Tarquin lay beside her on the sand, directing the flow of cool water to dance up her legs and swirl over her clit. Lanea bit her lower lip and panted softly as he lavished attention on her breasts, tracing her curves with his claws and licking her peaked nipples like a male starved.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she begged, turning her golden eyes up at Tarquin’s blue ones with a beseeching expression. She had never been so shameless with another male before. “I’m so close, Tarquin. Please—”

“Come for me, Lanea.” Tarquin increased the water’s pressure just a notch, extracting another bone-shaking orgasm from her. Lanea’s sobs and moans echoed off the cave walls.

She lay shaking on the sandy cove, starlight swimming back into view. The climax had rendered her weightless, as if she was floating on the ocean and drifting into relaxed sleep.

“Tired?” He murmured, brushing her damp blue hair from her forehead. His dick was ready to go again, but Lanea had just come four times in a row. Perhaps she needed a longer break.

“What time is it?” Lanea panted. Tarquin glanced up at the sky, marking the position of the constellations.

“Four hours until dawn,” he answered. Lanea glanced at his hardening cock and subconsciously licked her lips. She blushed prettily when he caught her, dark green blooming over her cheeks.

“We go until dawn, then,” she proclaimed, pushing him flat onto the sand and climbing over his turquoise tail.

Tarquin laughed, feeling more free than he had in months. “Gods, you’re so fucking perfect.”

🧜🏾‍♂️🧜🏾‍♂️🧜🏾‍♂️

For the Tarquin fans (I have a non-smutty Tarquin one-shot WIP, please let me know if you do not want to be tagged): @thesistersarcheron @ultadverb @starfall-spirit @ladyelain @feiwelinchen

#that was incredibly hot #wow

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