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The remains of their picnic lay scattered across the blanket—empty containers, crumb-dusted patches of fabric, and the lingering aroma of the herb-crusted fish Finn had brought along to sear over the rudimentary fire pit. Sylvia stretched out on her back, one arm draped over her eyes to block the afternoon sun, the other resting on her pleasantly full stomach.
"I should probably wait a bit before getting back in the water," she said, more to herself than to Finn, who was already shaking sand out of the picnic supplies. "I've always heard you shouldn't swim right after eating."
Giving her a look that was equal parts amused and incredulous, Finn said, "Pretty sure that ain't true, Minnow. Or else it'd be real bad news for merfolk."
Sylvia lifted her arm to peer at him, squinting against the brightness. "What do you mean?"
"Well, think about it. If swimming after eating was actually dangerous..." He gestured vaguely toward the ocean. "Half the sea'd be floating belly-up by now."
Considering this, she propped herself up on her elbows. "Huh. So it might just be one of those things people say? Like swamp fish having a three-second memory span?"
"Nah, that one's dead on. Swamp fish are dumber'n a bag of barnacles. But the swimming thing sounds like something parents came up with to keep kids from gettin' too rambunctious right after lunch." He finished packing the last container into her bottomless satchel, then looked back at her with that dare glinting off his teeth. "Only one way to find out for sure."
Sylvia groaned dramatically. "You're not seriously suggesting I test this theory right now."
"Course not," he said, though his grin suggested otherwise. "Wouldn't want you cramping up on me. 'Specially not where I'm plannin' to take you."
That got her attention. She sat up fully, brushing sand off her palms. "Oh? And where exactly are we going?"
"Secret spot. Been saving it." He stood and offered her his hand. "Fair warning though—it's a bit of a swim."
"What, you think I'm gonna melt or something?" She took the proferred hand anyway, letting him pull her up. Her feet cleared the sand in a tiny hop before she landed.
"Well, you are a witch," he said, utterly deadpan. "Isn't that what's supposed to happen? Y'know, if we're talkin' old wives' tales and all."
"Oh please. That's one's total bunk, and you know it. I mean, how many times have I come swimming with you already?"
"Not nearly enough," he said, somehow managing to make it sound like an invitation in cursive.
She rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, shoving him as they waded into the shallows together. The cool water was a welcome reprieve on the soles of her feet after treading through the hot sand. Finn slipped under with that damnable fluid grace, while Sylvia took her sweet time adjusting to the temperature.
"So where are we going?" she asked, following slowly but surely as he swam parallel to the shore.
The water was out of tip-toe depth by the time they faced a rocky outcropping that stretched into the sea like a stone barrier. Finn paused, standing there while Sylvia kicked a bit to keep her chin dry.
"Here, this is where it gets interesting." He nodded toward what looked like solid sandstone. "See that darker patch near the waterline? That's our way in."
Sylvia squinted at the rocks. Maybe she could see a slightly deeper-blue section, if she stared hard. Assuming her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "Our way in to what?"
"My secret lair," he said, giving a jazzy wave of his hands. "But you'll have to hold your breath for about a minute to get there."
"Pshh, piece of cake. I've held my breath longer than that hovering over sulfur distillations." She shaded her vision against the sun, trying to no avail to make out the supposed entrance. "Okay, seriously—how did you even find this place?"
"Accident. Had a dwarf kraken that really didn't wanna be calamari, and it led me straight through." He treaded water effortlessly, floating farther out to sea. "Second-best chase of my life, turns out."
"Second-best?" The grin that tugged at her mouth would not be tamped down. "That's quite the setup line."
"Line? Who, me?" His expression tested the structural limits of innocence. "I'm just statin' facts here. Now, you coming, or do I gotta find you some water wings first?"
"Oh, you're hilarious." Sylvia kicked forward and sent a deliberate splash right at his smug face. "For the record, I've gotten a lot better at swimming in recent months, thank you very much. But I'm not stupid enough to rely on my own swim-power to navigate mysterious underwater caves," she added, complete with her own dramatic finger wiggling.
"And easier to hold your breath if you're lettin' me do all the work, sounds like."
Her gaze flicked over him, assessing. Definitely not taking the extra opportunity to appreciate all that wet, glistening muscle. "So, with the whole tail situation, a regular piggyback isn't a viable option," she observed, chin in hand. She swam up in front of him as she said it, arms slipping up over his shoulders and fingers lacing together behind his neck. "This seems doable, though."
"Mhm. Cozy, too."
Chest to chest, they bobbed gently in the water. Warmth radiated from Finn's skin despite the cool ocean lapping at them, droplets gliding swiftly down his skin as though repelled. The space between them seemed to shrink without either of them moving.
"You know," she said, voice softer now, "this is either highly practical or a completely transparent excuse to get me wrapped around you."
"Hey, you're the one goin' full remora unprompted." His hands found her waist, stabilizing her in the gentle current.
Their lips met in a kiss that tasted strongly and cleanly of brine, unhurried despite the fact that they were treading water in open ocean. Finn pulled her closer, and she could feel the powerful flex of his tail keeping them both afloat.
Eventually they broke apart, breathing a fraction harder, and Sylvia licked the salt from her lips.
"When this whole 'awesome secret lair' thing turns out to be an elaborate seduction plot..." As though considering, she paused. "Actually, never mind. I'm on board with that. Just tell me when to duck my head."
"Alright then. Deep breath in three... two..." His voice rumbled against her cheek as she pressed her face to his chest. "One."
Sylvia filled her lungs completely, the air sharp in her throat. Then the world tilted as Finn angled downward, and cool water rose up her back, over her shoulders, past her ears. The sounds of the surface—gentle lapping, distant seabirds—cut to muted whooshing.
One of his arms came up along her spine, his palm cradling the back of her head more securely. The beating of his heart thrummed steadily beneath her ear, reassuring and rhythmic and spaced far apart even as they descended.
The current around them grew stronger, which she assumed was due to the stone walls of the purported underwater passage creating a funnel effect. Finn propelled them forward in smooth strokes; apart from the water rushing past her, she'd hardly know they were moving. She kept her eyelids squeezed shut, focusing on the protective weight of his palm between her skull and any potential bump against protrusions of rock.
The tightness in her lungs shifted from polite suggestion to insistent demand, the precursor of worry whispering at the back of her mind. Approaching the edge of her tolerance, where her diaphragm spasmed and her chest began to ache, he angled upward.
They broke the surface together and Sylvia inhaled a greedy gulp, the air tasting impossibly sweet. A wave of relief flooded through her; bright and buzzing, almost giddy. She scrabbled for better purchase on Finn, arms constricting around his neck as she clung tight to the anchor of his body.
"Hey." His arms shifted to better hold her up while leaving room for her ribs to expand with a few more steadying breaths. "You good?"
"No, yeah. I'm fine," she managed, voice thin. She let out a long, shaky exhale that turned into a breathless laugh. "Holy moly. That was—whew. Okay. That's definitely a rush."
The concern in his voice eased into comfortable teasing. "Guess that's a decent review, seein' as you'll be leaving the same way ya came in."
Sylvia's brows lifted slightly, and then she laughed. More genuine this time, less airy. "Oh, fuck off," she said, the tension in her shoulders releasing. She let her forehead rest on him as they both chuckled.
After a moment, she lifted her head from his shoulder and actually looked around.
"Oh," she said softly.
The grotto opened up around them like something out of a dream. Above, natural skylights let filtered sunlight pour down in shifting columns, turning the water to liquid gold where it pierced the surface. The stone itself was basalt worn smooth as glass, carved by millenia of tidal flow; dark and wet and gleaming. And in the darker waters ahead, a glow pulsed gently. Bioluminescent plant life pinpricked the shadows like abyssalite dust sparkling in the bottom of a cauldron.
"Okay," she admitted. "This might have been worth it."
"Figured this'd be your kinda joint." He leaned back in the water, reclining until she lay draped across him like a castaway who'd lucked into the world's most accommodating raft and possessed zero intention of swimming for shore. "Secret, secluded, dramatic lighting. Hits all the requirements for a solid lair."
The acoustics in here were fascinating. Sounds became muffled and intimate, as though emanating from inside a living secret. The gentle lap of water against stone, the faint rippling where they bobbed—even their breathing seemed somehow padded.
Relaxing atop him as she surveyed the space, Sylvia distributed her weight along the solid plane of his chest and stomach. Her knees bent naturally, heels crossing in the air behind her in that idle pose of complete comfort. This was nice. Different. An arrangement that didn't quite work out on land; his tail prevented a proper full-body sprawl.
Fingertips running back and forth over his textured skin, she was quiet for a long moment before resting her chin on his breastbone. "So this is where you come when you need to get away from everything?" she asked, then stuck out her tongue and added, "Myself included?"
"Nah. Good place to think, though." His touch drifted up her spine in a slow, absent caress. "Or not think, dependin' on what the day calls for." His eyes found hers. "Better with company, I'm thinkin'."
She shifted to fold her arms over his chest and pillowed her head there, humming thoughtfully. "You know, after that whole near-death experience getting in here..." she teased, looking up at him through her lashes. "I'm starting to think that 'grateful shipwreck survivor' thing you mentioned might be more legit than I gave it credit for."
His attention sharpened. "Yeah?"
"I'm just saying—I get it now. You know, with the oxygen deprivation, the rescue, the euphoria…" She grinned when he tensed slightly beneath her. "Kind of puts you in the headspace for some adventurous choices."
"Adventurous." There was an edge to his amusement now, and Sylvia was living for it.
"Absolutely. I mean, here I am—" she let herself go utterly limp on him, one hand rising to press against her forehead "—a poor little witch, plucked from the jaws of death by a strong, capable hero..."
"Oh, we're doin' this, huh?"
"We're absolutely doing this." Her voice dropped into breathy performance, eyes wide and entreating. "How ever can I repay you for saving my life, brave rescuer? I am forever in your debt."
Finn's grin turned wolfish. "Well, now that you mention it..." His hand coasted down her spine, no longer absent-minded, until it came to rest over the half-cheek of her swimsuit bottoms. "I can think of a few ways an extra-grateful survivor might wanna show it."
"Anything," Sylvia breathed, totally committed. "Name it. I am but a helpless maiden, overcome with appreciation for your heroic deed."
"Helpless maiden, huh?" His other hand joined the first with a light squeeze. "That's a new one for you."
"Desperate times," she said, though her voice had already lost some of its dramatic flavor. His touch was tilting from playful toward purposeful, and her body responded eagerly regardless of the playacting. "You did save me from that treacherous underwater passage."
"The one I dragged you through?" His voice had dropped lower, roughened at the edges despite the wry delivery. "Real heroic of me."
"Details," she dismissed, shushing him with a finger pressed to his lips. “I feel faint. Will you resuscitate me? With tongue?”
The curve of a smirk formed beneath her fingertip a split second before he scooped her backside and pulled her up his body in one decisive motion. Laughter spilled from her—surprised, delighted—scrambling to get her finger out of the way as her face swiftly approached his. When their mouths met, the kiss was wet and hungry, swallowing whatever quip had been forming on her own tongue.
All pretense evaporated like sea spray in the sun.
Her free hand combed into his hair, angling to deepen the kiss. The shift in her weight made them both sink marginally before his tail automatically corrected their buoyancy. His fingers dug into the meat of her, pulling her more firmly against him until she could tell precisely how on board he was through the thin layers of drenched fabric between them.
She broke away long enough to steal a breath. "Okay, tactical question before we get too carried away."
"Shoot," he said agreeably, mouth already trailing down her jaw.
When he grazed that spot below her ear that made her shiver, her fingers fisted in his hair. Everything was amplified: the warmth of his mouth against her cold, dampened skin, the velvet swipe of his hands, every small movement sending ripples through the rare hollows where they weren't pressed together. Her rolling hips pulled a groan from him, the sound vibrating through her chest and setting every nerve ending alight. Attempting to find better leverage, she immediately felt the limitations: no purchase, threatening to capsize them, and all his effort keeping them stable.
Her palms flattened against his chest as she pushed herself up a fraction, creating just enough room to think. "We need—" she managed, though it came out thin. She started over. "How exactly does this work? Mechanically speaking. In water."
Finn arched brow. "You lookin' for a demonstration or a technical breakdown?"
"Both?" Her laugh snuck out in the pause. "I mean, I need to breathe. You need..." She gestured vaguely between them. "Room to maneuver. What's the play here?"
"Fair point." His tail gave a lazy swish beneath them as he scanned their surroundings. "Needin' air changes the game. But here's what I'm thinkin'..."
His hold shifted along her curves, firm and confident. He tipped them in the water, a smooth motion that brought them upright while her fingers curved atop his shoulders. Then he guided her backward, tilting her until she reclined in his arms, head above the waterline. One hand spanned the small of her back, supporting her weight, while the other dropped to her waist and pulled her flush against him.
The position pressed the hard length of him directly against her through nothing but nylon. Heat bloomed low in her core despite the cool water. Her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, locking them together, and suddenly the arrangement made perfect sense. Intimate. Secure. Sustainable. And putting every inch of him right where she craved it.
Sylvia let out a slow exhale that morphed closer to a sigh. "Oh. Yeah." She cinched her legs, grinding closer. "That'll do."
"Thought it might," he said, voice gone gravel. His grip tightened as his gills flared once, quick and involuntary. Regular as a heartbeat, his tail sculled a weak current beneath them.
Her arms drifted out at her sides, helping her float, turning her into something approaching a snow angel on the surface. The shift took some of her weight off his supporting palm, and she relaxed further into the buoyancy. "Okay, but the whole... I mean, water is actually a terrible lubricant." She lifted her head to get a better look at him, hair fanning out around her in the water.
Finn's chuckle sent wavelets through the water. "What, you think we're crawlin' up onto rocks and reefs whenever we want a good flop?" He pressed forward, and the movement rocked her gently. "Kinda designed for underwater action."
"Well, that's..." She trailed off, squirming. "That makes sense."
"Mmhmm." The fingers at her back flexed. "Now, you got any more burning questions, or is it demonstration time?"
"Demonstration," Sylvia confirmed, crunching forward to fumble with her swimsuit ties. The wet knots proved impossibly tight, and she grunted a curse through her teeth when the fabric refused to cooperate.
"Here." His fingers joined hers, attacking the tangle.
Between the two of them, they managed to peel the damn thing off, the stretchy material clinging like it had a personal vendetta against their sex life. Finn tossed it over his shoulder, and it landed on a damp shelf of basalt with a wet smack.
"Your turn," she said, already loosening his drawstring to shove the waistband down far enough to free him. She gave an exploratory stroke—and she cocked her head.
Thinner than oil, smoother than water. Her fingers slid along his shaft with curious intent, testing the texture, the way the coating let her palm glide. Completely frictionless. Self-emulsifying? Focusing on the tactile information, she pumped her fist, slower now, and he twitched in her grip. The combination of his heat, the silken pull, the weight of him on her palm...
"Okay, lab time's over," Finn said, catching her wrist. She looked up to find him watching her with amused exasperation. "You can take notes later."
"Spoilsport." But she was already easing herself back down, arms floating outward.
Positioning himself between her legs, the blunt pressure of him against her entrance made her breath catch. "Now," he said, "you just relax and let me do the work. And if anything's off—the water, the angle, whatever…"
She nodded. "Yeah, I've got it." Her hips shifted eagerly. "Listen, I appreciate the check-in, but I haven't forgotten how to communicate just because I'm in the ocean. So if we could get to the actual—"
He pulled her down onto him in one seamless stroke.
Fullness bloomed through her core as he sank deep, the stretch toe-curling and perfect, heightened by the strange weightlessness of suspension and the complete surrender of the position. Her spine arched, head craning back farther until the water brushed her hairline, throat exposed, chest rising with a ragged gasp.
Gills flaring wide, Finn went taut before bringing her that last fraction to flush.
He gave her a moment to adjust, his tail working idly while his fingers flexed into her skin; small twitches like he was fighting the urge to move. When she finally locked her ankles and clenched her thighs, the shift sent sparks up her spine. His answering groan rumbled up from within his chest.
"Yeah, like that," he said roughly, and matched her movement.
The rhythm built unlike anything they'd shared on land. Slower, more fluid, dictated by the drag and swell of the sea. His tail drove him up into her in vigorous thrusts while he pulled her down to meet each one, and the dual pressure made her clench tight around him.
Sylvia's nails bit into his forearms, pleasure building in waves that threatened to pull her under. The angle was devastating. Every surge dragged him over that spot inside her that made her vision blur, friction and fullness combining until she couldn't think. Her body wanted to writhe but his broad hands held her exactly where he wanted her—where she needed to be to get every inch she was after.
She'd feel this tomorrow. The stretch, the raw ache, the reminder of how very thoroughly he mapped her out.
Worth it. So worth it.
"Oh, that's—" she gasped, the words spilling out unfiltered. "Right there—"
"I know. Every time you—" He pulled her down again, eliciting a throaty sound from her. "It's like you're fucking lit up."
Of course. All those electrical signals her body was throwing off—muscle contractions, her pulse hammering, nerves firing—must conduct stronger through saltwater. Her body broadcast every surge of sensation the way a galvanic mixture shows current flow. The thought sent a wave of heat through her and she stopped trying to stay composed. Let herself moan openly as he plunged into her, the pitch climbing with each deliberate slide over that maddening, tender spot.
Gods, she could watch him like this all day. The way his jaw tensed with exertion, the flutter of his gills when she clenched around him, the hunger written in every bunch and release of muscle. Knowing he could sense every spike of pleasure until she was shaking with it.
"Close," she said. Her voice came out reedy and wrecked. The tension coiled tighter with every rock of their hips, that exquisite friction building toward something inevitable. "I'm—I—hah—"
He didn't change a thing. Kept the same angle, the same tempo, his tail pushing them together with steady, unwavering strokes. His grip on her stayed firm, anchoring her precisely where she needed in order to be undone.
The orgasm pulsed through her in time with the ripples around them, pushing a broken sound from her throat as her whole body seized around him, legs locking so tight she could feel a cramp forming. Finn held her through it, iron-firm as she came down.
For a long moment after, she simply floated there, head tipped back and arms splayed as she caught her breath. The water level fell and rose along her ribs as her lungs inflated and emptied.
Her pulse was slowing. Thoughts beginning to reassemble. Gradually, awareness crept back in. The delicious feel of him still inside her, still hard. Still—
"Wait," she said, hoarse with sudden realization. "You didn't…"
"Nah." His thumbs kneaded at the residual twinges needling in her thighs. "More focused on holdin' the rhythm."
Sylvia's lips tilted in a lopsided smile, brows pulling together. "Well, that won't do." Heels digging in, she rolled her hips thoughtfully. The maneuver made him grunt. "What if we took this...?" She pointed down.
"You sure about that? Thought you were trying not to drown."
"Yeah, but that was swimming through a tunnel." One hand flapped dismissively, slapping the water. "This time the surface will be right there when I need it. And maybe it'll be more fun for you if you're, um, you know. Totally in your element. And not holding me up the whole time."
Finn's grin sharpened. "You offering to go under so you can get an authentic mer-fucking?"
Heat flared through her, but her eyes flicked skyward. "Oh please. I'm offering so you can get one. You know, since you've been suffering through the vanilla surface version for my benefit." She cocked her head, mock-sympathetic. "Must be killing you."
His laugh shook his shoulders. "Yeah. Been suffering somethin' terrible. Couldn't you tell from all the groaning?"
"I knew it. The agony was written all over your face."
"Every time. Like pullin' teeth."
"I know. You're so brave." She patted his chest sympathetically. "But don't worry—I'm a generous soul. I'll put an end to this torture."
"Uh-huh." His hands skated up her sides, pulling her upright until they were face to face, her legs still wound around his waist. "Well, since you're bein' so selfless and all..."
He glanced at her sidelong, the playful edge giving way to something more intent. Making sure she meant it. When she held his gaze and didn't carry on joking, his grin returned, shark-toothed and sharp.
"Deep breath, then, Minnow."
Sylvia did so, then pressed her face against his sternum.
"Just a little ways down," he said. "Test run."
The water rose over her shoulders, her head, muffling all sound to a distant rush. They sank beneath the surface, but still close enough that she could reach up and touch air if needed. Finn settled her thighs over his, the position seating him fully again. She lifted her head from his chest, and immediately he found her gaze, gills flaring as he watched her face, tracking every flicker of reaction.
She nodded decisively.
His grip locked on her hips. He pulled nearly all the way out—torturous, emptying—then speared back into her in one smooth push.
Body seizing, her back bowed. A moan poured from her throat and escaped as a massive stream of bubbles. The gasp of pleasure, the tight grip of her body yielding, everything she would've savored on land gone in one uncontrolled release.
They broke the surface immediately, Sylvia sputtering and then dissolving into laughter.
"Sorry! Sorry. None of that underwater, huh?" She shook her head, sending wet bangs whipping around her face. "Okay. I'm ready. For real this time."
"You sure?" He was fighting a smile—losing the fight, actually, as it spread across his face.
"Positive. Just caught me off guard." She wrapped her arms more securely around his neck and planted a kiss on him. "Let's try that again."
She took a deliberate breath and held it. This time, when they sank, they approached the stone floor of the grotto.
The quiet sounds of the surface faded completely as they descended. Blue-green depths surrounded them, bioluminescent flora pulsing brighter the farther down they went.
Arms locked around his neck, legs cinched tight around his waist, she hung suspended in weightlessness. His tail dictated everything now: depth, position, movement. All she had to do was hold on.
When he pushed into her, the lack of resistance was immediate. Fluid. Effortless. No gravity to fight, no balance to maintain. Only the smooth advance her body embraced voraciously.
Sylvia's eyes flew open despite herself. Blinking through the salty sting, she found herself staring up into his face just inches away. His gills worked in earnest now, membranes spreading wide before snapping shut with each drive of his hips. The pattern mesmerized her; aquatic breath synced to the relentless pace.
The water churned with the force of his tailfin, bioluminescent fronds scattering in bright spirals around them, painting streaks of light across his skin. Each surge dove deeper, harder, sending shockwaves through her oversensitized body. She was still wound up from her climax, every nerve ending raw and receptive, and all she wanted was to take everything he gave her.
The burn in her lungs started as a whisper, easily ignored. She kept her attention trained on his face. On the focused, unguarded expression, the flare of his gills matching the flick of his fins. Beautiful.
But the burn was spreading now, her chest beginning to ache with the need for air. The edges of her vision started to soften, going slightly hazy. Her fingers tightened reflexively on his shoulders, and she knew she should tap out… But he was close. The tension coiled through his body, his rhythm fracturing into something more desperate.
Just a little longer.
The world narrowed to sensation: the crushing pressure in her lungs, the thickness of him pressing against every reach inside of her, the dizzy floating feeling that blurred the line between weightlessness and oxygen starvation. And beneath the deprivation: heat. Building inexorably despite everything, or maybe because of it. Her brain couldn't be bothered about air. It only recognized the press of him inside her, the frictionless glide winding her higher and tighter even as her thoughts went fuzzy and slow. Intoxicating. Dangerous. But she was on the edge again, could feel it gathering low and electric, fed by the lightheaded rush and the sight of him completely at home and chasing his own release.
Her hand started to lift—sluggish, delayed—toward his face. But they were already rising. She registered the motion distantly, the acute lash of his tail propelling them upward before her brain could finish processing the command she'd tried to give.
Mouth opening reflexively the instant it cleared the waterline, air flooded her lungs in desperate, shuddering gulps. The world swam back into focus slowly. Colors sharpening, the haze retreating as oxygen hit her system. Her grip on him had gone shaky without her realizing it.
"Hey." Finn cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheek as he tracked her pupils: still drifting, not quite focusing right. "You with me?"
"Yeah," she managed, though her voice came out thready. "I'm—yeah. I'm okay."
"You pushed it way too far." His jaw was tight, the words clipped. Not anger—fear, poorly disguised. "Could feel you fadin' out down there." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Shoulda pulled up sooner."
"You were so close, I just wanted to—"
"Yeah, no." He stopped her mid-sentence, cut sharp. Then he took a breath, centering himself, and pressed his forehead to hers. "Look, I appreciate the dedication to the whole 'authentic experience.' Really. But you passin' out?" His voice went flat. "That's a real quick way to ruin my whole fuckin' week. So let's not."
Sylvia registered the tension rippling through him. The unsteady flick of his tail beneath them, jerking in small corrections instead of its usual smooth sway. That easy humor had drained from his expression entirely.
Rattled. She'd rattled him.
Fingers finally stilling, she traced the line of his jaw. "I know," she said softly. "I'm sorry. I got… caught up."
His sigh was deliberate, controlled. Fingers splayed over her ribs. Grounding. Feeling her breathe.
"But... being underwater with you?" Her tone gentled further, became more intimate. "Everything is dialed up. More intense. And seeing you completely... organic." She rocked her hips gently, reminding him he was still inside her. "I don't know. It does something to me. Knowing how good you're feeling. I've never seen anything hotter in my life."
Her fingers curled on his arm. "And I want to see it again." A pause, then firmly: "But I'll be smarter about it. Tap out sooner. Deal?"
"Hell, Minnow." His jaw worked for a moment, conflict clear on his face. "You promise you'll tap out quick?"
"Promise."
He exhaled hard, and she could almost see her words sinking in, the image she'd painted. "Alright. Deal. One more try. But the second—and I mean the second—you need air, you signal. I'm not fuckin' around with this."
"Me neither." She flashed him a smile. "So come faster for me."
His bark of startled laughter broke the remaining tension. "Thanks a lot," he snorted. "No pressure, huh?"
They both laughed at that, and Sylvia's turned into a squeal when he bent down and nibbled at her ear.
"Okay, okay," she said, focusing up. She took in a big breath in through her nose and let it out through her mouth. "Ready to go again."
This time when they submerged, she was more mindful with her air, more cognizant of her limits. And this time, Finn didn't waste a second.
They stayed higher, the waterline visible as a wavering mirror above them. He started moving even as they dropped into the pale blue glow, keeping them suspended at this safer depth while he pumped into her with purpose. She caught a glimpse of her own rippling form reflected overhead before focusing on his face. Didn't want to miss the moment he succumbed.
It didn't take long. He was already wound tight, no patience left for build-up. Every thrust was urgent, chasing relief with single-minded intensity. And she met him; rolled her pelvis, squeezed around him, silently urging faster, harder, yes.
When his rhythm started to break, when she could tell he was almost there, she lifted her knees, ankles still crossed, and squeezed them in against that ridge along either side of his torso—right over his lateral line.
The effect was immediate. He bowed over her as his jaw dropped open and he buried himself deep one last time. In the same moment, his mouth closed on her shoulder, the ring of sharp points settling against her skin. Just enough pressure to feel each tooth without drawing blood. An instinct rendered safe by sheer willpower. His gills fluttered as he pulsed inside her, jaw trembling from the shudder running through him head to fin.
The sight nearly stole her stored breath right there. Watching him shake apart with his teeth claiming her shoulder—her body answered before her brain caught up, clenching tight around him as pleasure spiked hot through her core.
Her lungs were starting to complain, though, so she tapped his shoulder twice. Before she could blink they were rising. She pulled in a long, even breath through her nose once they broke the surface. Relief saturated her lungs rather than desperation. She'd timed it better. No shuddering gasps or lightheadness; only the pleasant satisfaction of breathing again.
Sylvia clung to him, nose smushed to his chest, as they swayed in the placid water. His tail swept back and forth indolently, enough to keep them afloat. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Just caught their breath and let their heart rates settle.
Cradling the back of her head, he asked, "You alright?"
"Mhm. I'm good." She stayed tucked against him. "Still had plenty of time."
"Yeah. You did." Gently, his fingers moved to her chin and tilted her face up. Apparently satisfied by whatever he saw there, his thumb brushed her cheek and he nodded, shoulders finally relaxing.
After another stretch of silence, floating there together, his voice came back to its usual rough warmth. "So. Still feeling faint, or did that resuscitation take?"
She laughed, the sound turning into a thin snort. "I think I'm fully revived." Shifting slightly, she winced at the pleasant ache settling into her muscles. "Might need another treatment in a few days though."
"Happy to provide follow-up care." He rubbed slow circles on her back. "Professional service and all. Even do house calls."
"Very professional." She lifted her head and immediately noticed the way his gaze caught on something. Following his line of sight, she twisted to see her own shoulder. An unbroken halo of indentations marked her skin—not bleeding, but definitely visible. Red dots that would probably bruise by tomorrow.
A formula for pleasure written in pressure points.
"Ah, shit." Finn grimaced. "Sorry about that."
Sylvia touched the marks experimentally, prodding at the tender spots. They would fade before the week was out. And besides, there was something oddly satisfying about the evidence. "Consider it a souvenir."
"Souvenir. Right." He huffed out a laugh, the concern melting into something warmer. His thumb traced just above the marks, careful not to press. "Come back next week, I'll getcha the matching set."
"I have to wait that long?"
"Sweetheart, I'm gonna need a couple minutes if you wanna go another round."
"That's a much better timeline for me." She pressed a kiss to his jaw, then his neck, skirting the line of his gills. Felt him shiver under her mouth. "I'm hooked. A cautionary tale. A warning to all dry-footed girls.”
"Greedy little thing," he murmured, but his hands were already slipping down to her waist again.
She kissed him properly then. Languid and savoring, brimming with salt and satisfaction. His mouth opened under hers, and a hum of contentment vibrated between them. Still pressed together, trading lazy kisses that were building inevitably into something hungrier.
The afternoon stretched ahead of them, and neither was ready to surface just yet.