Chapter Text
Jensen hit the water hard—the ship was a big modern cargo hauler, and the deck he’d been thrown from was high enough the water stunned him on impact. He stared up at the outline of the ship above him, propelling through the water at twenty knots, at least. There went his last chance to make something of his life. His last chance at life, too, really. His hands and feet were bound, and he wouldn’t even be able to keep his head above water with all his clothes and boots weighing him down—either the propellers would shred him in the next thirty seconds, or he’d run out of air shortly after that and drown.
He tried anyway, thrashing his whole body—hey, it worked for dolphins—but the surface looked far above him and kept getting farther. Ordinarily he was a good swimmer. But this was how he was going to die. His lungs were already burning by the time the ship's shadow passed and the turbulence in the water got less wild. But he wasn’t any closer to the surface, and his thrashing would attract sharks.
When he first saw the dark-and-pale blur from the side, he thought shark. As it got close, he could see that was wrong—it looked human, or at least had a human face and arms, but it sliced through the water too fast and clean. No Olympian with rubber swimfins could pull that speed off. Finally it—she—pulled up right in front of him, and he saw the enormous orange fishtail shimmering from her waist down. Her skin above the waist was pale and a cloud of long dark hair floated around her; she wore a few bracelets and a shoulder-pouch, disconcertingly like any woman wore a purse, and nothing else.
As soon as he got a good look at her, she darted in and pressed her lips to his.
She was trying to suck out his breath. His last lungful of air that was all that measured the remaining seconds of his life, ticking away with every beat of his heart demanding oxygen: already his body screamed for him to let the old air out, too dumb to know there was no fresh air to replace it. He wrenched his mouth away—he’d fight for every last second of life.
Frustrated, she pulled back. She pointed to the sides of her neck and down her ribs, and he saw gill slits in neat rows, fanning through the water. Then she opened her mouth and expanded her chest up and down in quick succession a few times. Her boobs bounced in a way that any other time, Jensen would have been very interested in; now, he just tried to figure out what she wanted.
She reached out to caress his face, a gentle, caring touch. And came back in to press her lips against his again, waiting.
So she could breathe underwater. Bully for her. What did she want his air for, then? He’d think just to torment his last moments—in legends, mermaids always lured sailors to their deaths—but her touch was so gentle, he couldn’t quite believe it of her. All right. She wanted him to trust her. Legend said not to trust mermaids, but what did he have to lose? He opened his mouth and carefully let his air escape into her mouth.
No sooner did the flow of air pause than suddenly she was pushing it back into him, one precious bubble escaping in his surprise before he gratefully sucked the rest back in. It was fresh. Not that it tasted great, but his body had oxygen again, and his vision stopped going dark around the edges.
Now that he had the idea, he eagerly let her take and return his breath again. It tasted sweet when he knew it was life she was giving him, quick shallow breaths until he felt he wasn’t starving for air anymore.
They were moving, he realized. They’d been moving the whole time, of course, her tail beating lazily against his bound legs as she embraced him, but now that his immediate anoxia was relieved, she kicked the pace up. He saw that they were heading towards an underwater reef.
The ship had been nowhere near shore, or even any islands. Out where the ocean went down a long, dark way—Jensen had heard the assholes who threw him over speculating on whether the pressure would crush him before he ran out of air, if he just kept sinking. In the end they’d decided against tying weights to his feet. But mostly because the weights might be missed, not because they cared how quickly Jensen drowned. Who knew guys would take a good-looking man’s refusal to be their fucktoy so personally?
They were moving fast now and Jensen could see sunlight falling on the seafloor, which rose out of the depths before them. Corals ran rampant, but it levelled off rather than rising to the surface; although this might have been an island a million years ago, now it was only an underwater mountain.
As they swam over the seabed, he started to see odd structures. The coral around the edges looked like any pictures of wild coral he’d ever seen, but he started to see places where it looked like it had been cultivated to grow into hillocks, gardens and caves. He caught glimpses of other merpeople in the distance, but it was hard to be sure, since his vision wavered with the water, and they moved as quick as fish. Before he could get a good look at any of them, his mermaid darted down with him to a cave opening in the coral and they entered a tunnel.
She pulled her mouth away from his to maneuver through the small space. A couple powerful strokes of her tail—he could probably have made it through the tunnel on his own just by holding his breath—and they were popping up into a large bubble. He gasped in surprise: air! They were still far below the surface, so how—?
Veiny branches of coral arched overhead, but the bubble itself was clear, and the sun filtered down into it, dimmed by water. There were land plants in garden beds covering more than half the floor, and hanging in pots from scaffolding going higher than his head up the walls. The tunnel they’d popped out of made a little pool with a gently sloping shallow edge on one side. The floor was smooth-polished stone instead of the sandpapery coral that had lined the tunnel, and there was a single hammock strung up in front of them.
The room was bigger than a ship’s cabin, but not by much.
Jensen was too distracted to absorb much more detail at the moment. The rope on his wrists had swelled with seawater, and it had been tight to start with. As soon as he was sitting in the shallow water instead of the mermaid supporting all his weight, he held his hands out to her in appeal.
“Can you help me get these off? I mean, thank you for saving me, of course. Crap, do you understand me at all?”
She looked quizzical at his words, but the gesture of holding his bound wrists out seemed to make sense to her, because she fished in her purse for a little sharp knife and set right to work cutting away the rope. Her hands were tiny—she would have been much shorter than him if she’d had legs—but she seemed to know what she was doing.
It probably wasn’t the first time she’d seen ropes or nets tangling up living creatures. He wondered if merpeople ever got caught in fishing nets. Human trash was probably hard to avoid these days.
She finished sawing through his wrist ropes and started on his ankles. He stretched his arms out and over his head, luxuriating in the movement.
“Salve, mi nomen Genovefa est,” she said, slowly, enunciating each word.
“Latin?” he said, surprised. He’d had some high school Spanish, but he wasn’t what anybody would call fluent. “Jensen. Mi nombre es Jensen. Jensen,” he repeated, touching his chest, and reaching out to tap her shoulder. Even though her breasts had been pressed against him...no, he could still be polite. “Genovefa. Like Genevieve.”
She nodded cheerfully. The last of his ropes parted and fell into the pool. “Jensen,” she repeated.
“Thank you,” he said. “Gracias.”
She smiled and ducked down into the water, then lunged out with a flip of that powerful tail to get up into the shallow water next to him. She supported herself with slender, human arms until she could flip herself over to sit beside him.
“Are you going to keep me here?” Jensen wondered out loud. He thought about trying to say it in Spanish, but the words didn’t come. His former shipmates had made the termination of their working relationship extremely clear. All because Jensen hadn’t wanted to roll over and spread his ass for any of those idiot chuckleheads. He’d made that clear and then he’d made it even clearer that he’d report them if they didn’t back off, and prosecute to the full extent of the law. Somewhere between getting wrestled to the deck by four guys and hitting the water without their having even bothered to take his pants off, he figured out that they probably had other reasons not to want legal attention brought to their ship, but by then it was too late for argument. Too late for anything but trying to make his last lungful of air count as the water closed over his head.
If Genovefa hadn’t saved him, he’d be dead. He had no job to get back to, since he clearly wasn’t going back aboard that ship. He had a fiancé waiting for him back in Louisiana, but...he’d left because he wanted to make something of his life, so he had something to offer her. He had less now than when he’d set out, unless he wanted to try to sell “I Was Rescued From Attempted Murder by a Mermaid,” to a tabloid, which he didn’t, really. She wouldn’t hate him if he turned up on her doorstep with nothing but the clothes on his back, but he couldn’t bear to be a disappointment.
Why hadn’t Genovefa brought him to the nearest land, or found a passing ship? This reef-town had to be secret they didn’t want the human world to find out about. Nobody even saw mermaids anymore, they were just legends passed down from ancient Greeks and Romans and anybody else who spent a lot of time in boats.
Genovefa interrupted his confused thoughts by putting her hands on his shoulders, that same gentle touch that had convinced him to trust her in the first place. She leaned up and kissed him, a real kiss this time, not underwater CPR. One hand trailed down his chest and stomach, past his waistband, and rested lightly on the lump in his pants. He didn’t know how much of it was sheer relief to be alive and how much was the way her naked body had swayed against his all the way here, but when she drew back to look a question at him, clear as day, his body was clearly answering yesss.
There were some things you didn’t need language for. “Yeah,” he said, anyway. Danneel hadn’t let him promise to stay true to her; she’d laughed when he tried. “Get out there and live, cowboy, you never know what’ll happen.” He still felt like a heel kissing another woman, but...if Danneel ever found out he’d passed on sex with a mermaid, she’d smack him.
He helped the mermaid pull his shirt off, stood up to shuck his pants, floundered trying to get them over his boots—finally he managed to get everything off.
Gen was laughing at him, plainly wondering why humans put themselves through so much trouble. There was no way he could answer that, so he splashed down in the shallows next to her and drew her in for more kisses, keeping her busy enough to interrupt the laughter.
She had really lovely breasts, which he had appreciated before but now could devote his full attention to. She was soft in his arms, and it felt delightful to kiss her without his next breath depending on it.
She guided his hand to a slit where her tail would have divided into legs if she’d been human. The edges were hard and rigid at first, but as he stroked they softened and relaxed, and a little slippery ooze started to come out. He grinned. Some things weren’t so different. He rolled over onto her and put a couple fingers in, checking to see how much room there’d be. She arched and groaned prettily, grabbing at his shoulders and kissing him again passionately.
His cock was already hard and didn’t need any encouragement. He lined up with her slit and went in, not slamming home like he wanted to but going careful and steady. It was unfamiliar territory, after all: despite legends of mermaids having their way with men, details were sparse.
She obviously couldn’t wrap legs around him, so instead he straddled her tail, kneeling. It was a little awkward but not too bad. She felt amazing once he was in her, cooler than human body temperature, but she was tight around him and with a thick, slippery wetness. He could feel her muscles tremble around his cock. He thrust, and flung his head back because it felt so good.
He opened his eyes and nearly shouted. There, right outside the bubble-room, a full-sized merman was looking in at him. When their eyes met, the merman grinned, friendly and full, and his hips rocked suggestively a couple times before he twisted and swam off, his tail a dark ocean gray.
Jensen’s heart was pounding a mile a minute and he wasn’t sure what to think. Normally he’d expect aggression, coming into a strange culture and getting caught boning a pretty woman by one of the men. His energy flagged as he wondered if the merman was swimming away to get eight buddies with tridents and jab at the bubble until it let all the air out.
But Genovefa was still smiling, not at all worried. She’d noticed their observer, but she was still encouraging Jensen to keep fucking her. And the merman hadn’t seemed angry.
He couldn’t figure it out, so he put it aside and let Genovefa's hand in his hair pull his attention back to her, back to his easy thrusting into her body. In and out; Gen was meeting him with little hip rolls of her own, and they quickly built in speed and intensity. Soon he cried out: he couldn’t hold it anymore, and she was crying out too, high-pitched little whimpers, and finally they shuddered and lay together, exhausted.
After a while the stone wasn’t very comfortable to lay on, though, and she chivvied him up and pointed firmly at the hammock. He grinned tiredly at her, dropped one more kiss on her smile, and went. He looked back when he got there: she was sitting deeper in the water, right on the lip of the tunnel back into the ocean, and she put a hand on her lower belly, very deliberately, and smiled at him. Then she slipped into the water and was gone.
He suddenly wasn’t at all sleepy anymore. Was it even possible for a human to get a mermaid pregnant? It couldn't be, could it?
He sat awake in the hammock a long time, wondering what he’d gotten himself into here.
The merman he’d seen yesterday was back when morning light filtered dimly through the seawater above the dome, popping up in the little pool with Gen. He was even bigger than Jensen had thought when he was outside, looking enormous next to Gen, twice her weight at least, probably. A little bigger than Jensen, and Jensen was taller than most people.
The merman was also startlingly attractive. Everyone expected mermaids to be beautiful, because that was in all the legends, but mermen were barely mentioned in any of them, so he didn’t know what to expect. Genovefa was gorgeous, of course, but it would have been somehow more shocking if she hadn’t been, so he almost took it for granted. Much more immediate when he thought of her was the way she’d saved him, and the unexpected tenderness when she touched him.
But the merman was handsome, skin a shade more tan than his own or Gen’s, hair brown and shoulder-length. It was dark and dripping around his face at the moment, because he’d just come out of the water, but Jensen still couldn’t help staring almost rudely. The merman was doing his own share of staring, too, though.
Jensen knew people thought he was attractive, and he’d been called pretty more times than he liked, culminating with those assholes who’d thrown him off the ship when tried to make the case that if he’d wanted to live as a two-bit whore, he’d have stayed on land to do it.
But the merman wasn’t setting off his hackles, even though he still stared at Jensen with that friendly, approving grin from yesterday. If the men who had come on to Jensen before had looked this good...but no, that wasn’t all of it. It was that there was nothing furtive or shameful in the merman’s expression. It was attraction, simple and open.
Jensen rolled himself out of the hammock as gracefully as he figured anybody ever did when hammocks were involved, and crossed the smooth stone floor to them. The floor wasn’t as cold as he thought it should be, with the sunlight filtering only weakly through the water, not enough for warmth. Next to the tunnel pool, he noticed for the first time, there was another, smaller pool. Water bubbled up from the middle and trickled in a rivulet from it to the larger tunnel pool. Curious, he went over and dipped his bare toes in: it was warm, and it smelled very faintly of minerals. He tasted a drop; it wasn’t salty. A hot spring, then. He wondered if they’d built the bubble here to take advantage of it, or maybe rerouted the spring from somewhere nearby.
Gen and her friend stared with fascination at his legs and feet: he guessed they might not have ever seen a human this close before. But they seemed happy to let him wander around, exploring. Like a new puppy they’d brought home to the house… Jensen shook the thought out of his head, looking over at them. The merman had his arm around Gen as they perched together on the rim of the tunnel, a familiar, intimate posture. Jensen wondered if he’d misjudged after all, if they were lovers and the stranger was only smiling so that Jensen wouldn’t expect it when he started bashing his head against rocks and dragging him out to drown.
“Hi,” he said cautiously.
“Hi,” the merman said back.
“”Jensen,” the new guy repeated obediently, looking at him. “Jared.” He tapped his own chest.
“Jared,” Gen agreed, repeating it and looking at Jensen to be sure he got it.
“Jared,” Jensen said, smiling. Introductions made them seem friendlier. He decided to try a little Spanish. "¿Por qué estoy aquí?" Why am I here?
Jared furrowed his brow and launched into a long string of probably-Latin.
“Whoa, whoa, too fast, you gotta slow down,” he said. “Lento, slow.” He racked his brain for more Spanish. He hadn’t had to use it in a while. “Por favor, más lento.”
He couldn’t tell if Jared was processing his words, or just realized that they weren’t making sense to each other. “Nos volo ad tuum corpus,” he said, emphasizing each word so Jensen could catch them.
Tuum corpus, okay, that was probably ‘your body,’ and hopefully not in the sense of ‘corpse.’ “Va a dolerme?” Are you going to hurt me?
Jared shook his head, but not like he was saying no to a question he’d understood. More like he was frustrated that less than half of what they were saying seemed to be getting through. He reached into the water and pulled up a woven bag, offering it to Jensen rather than trying any more words for the moment.
Cautiously, Jensen came forward to take it from him. It contained a dead eel the length of his forearm and some seaweed. The fish, on further examination, had been filleted and cleaned.
It had not been cooked. Jensen wrinkled his nose. He certainly couldn’t build a fire in here; even if he could find things to burn and something to start it with, it would use up all the oxygen in about five minutes and he’d suffocate before getting to eat anything. But he wasn’t eager to try eating it raw, either. Dammit. Was the seaweed supposed to be edible, too? He wasn’t really a sushi fan.
But now that he was thinking about food, his stomach growled to life and demanded he eat something. He glanced up at his hosts. Captors? They were picking up on his distress, at least. Gen made a calming gesture and pointed him to a crate, set between the wall and the pool they were in.
Jensen had seen it yesterday, but he’d been fully occupied with Gen until after dark, when he hadn’t wanted to go stumbling around his enclosure tripping on things. But Gen was waiting for him to investigate now. The crate had been shoved only a few inches past the waterline; it occurred to him it probably wouldn’t be easy for people with tails instead of legs to maneuver anything heavy when they weren’t in the water. Now that he was thinking about it, he noticed that the scaffolding for the plants that encircled the room had each plant-pot hanging from a pulley on the scaffold, rather than set on shelves as a human greenhouse would do it—humans who could easily stand, and reach above their heads.
The crate, when he reached it, was full of canned chili. His heart leapt and sank at the same time. It was food; but without a can opener, it might as well be on the moon. He started looking around the edges of the crate and digging through the cans.
A delicate cough interrupted him. Gen was grinning at him from the water and held out to him, with an air of great ceremony, a little stainless steel tool. Nothing so fancy as a crank, no, just a triangular claw like a beer opener, but it would open a can, and that was what mattered. He grinned back at her and forgot to be cautious as he splashed into the shallows to take it from her.
She lifted herself a few extra inches out of the water as he got close, and he kissed her without thinking about it, or about the very large merman just over her shoulder. He wasn’t even wearing anything other than boxers. His eyes jerked up to meet Jared’s, but Jared was still smiling, and Jensen was sure that this time he wasn’t imagining the hungry look in his eyes.
Jared wanted him.
He’d never slept with men. He didn’t want that kind of rep. He’d had plenty of offers, damn his good looks anyway, and it wasn’t that he was totally opposed in principle, but he didn’t like feeling like he’d be a notch in somebody’s bedpost.
On the other hand, he’d never had someone as gorgeous as Jared offer, or he might have reconsidered.
Too quickly, Gen was sinking back down into the water. When her head went under, Jensen was surprised to hear a strange quavery burbling noise from her. Jared ducked his head down too, and said something back, and Jensen realized that of course Latin wasn’t their natural tongue: they must have learned it to speak to humans, or in the air, but what he was hearing must be what they normally spoke, underwater. It was a little reminiscent of whale song, but not as deep or slow; it went up and down in pitch, and even though he could not have picked out any one word, it was obviously speech.
They popped back up, water splashing him where he stood thigh-deep. Gen kissed Jared just as quickly and cheerfully as she’d kissed him, and yanked on a thin line that lay across the floor. The chamberpot he’d found and used underneath the hammock the night before came flying towards them; he ducked instinctively, but it was well sealed, and she caught it neatly and slung the rope over her shoulder. She brought up another rope and a new chamberpot appeared out of the water. This she threw across the room, and it rolled to a stop almost where the old one had been, the rope still trailing across the floor into the pool so it could be easily retrieved in turn.
Jensen was impressed, but also...he couldn’t help wondering how many ‘guests’ had inhabited this room before him.
She waved, grinned, and dove, orange tail flipping through the water with enough power this time that she was clearly leaving through the tunnel.
Which left him and Jared staring at each other. The merman scooted closer to him, lifting his torso out of the water in what Jensen thought was a hopeful manner.
“Yeah, um, sorry,” Jensen said. “Lo siento.” Jared gave him a blank look; that hadn’t translated to Latin. He waved the can of food he was clutching as his stomach growled helpfully. “Food first, right now.”
“Right now,” Jared repeated. He pointed to the can. “Right now?”
Jensen laughed. “Food,” he said. He moved over to the abandoned fish and seaweed and repeated, “Food,” with a little less certainty. But being near the hot spring fountain gave him an idea, and he set the can in the hot water to warm it. “Chili,” he continued the language lesson, pointing. “Fish. Um, seaweed. Bag.”
Jared repeated each word back at him, and then started over from the top and said them all again. Jensen was glad he didn’t offer to teach him the underwater burbling language, since he didn’t fancy holding his breath the whole time it would take him to learn. He could, he supposed, learn Latin, but the sea people might be the only ones in the world who spoke it anymore, other than the Pope. It was hard to picture needing it.
Unless there was going to be a new merperson waiting to have sex with him every morning. He wondered if that was what he’d been brought here for, and repressed a shudder. He didn’t think he’d be able to roll with that. He could handle getting to know Jared and Gen; they were instantly friendly and he wanted to spend more time with them. But—he looked up at the clear dome, searching the waters for more merpeople peering in at them.
There was no one as far as he could see. A few fish swam around amongst the coral, but that was it. If there were more merfolk out there, they were keeping their distance.
“Food?” Jared asked, bringing his attention back. His chili was probably warm by now. It was a pity he couldn’t cook the fish like this.
He thought about it as he cracked open his chili with the can opener. The water was hot to the touch, but not boiling. He stuck his hand down farther in to check.
Ow. Yeah. The little pipe at the bottom was hotter, hot enough to burn him. He grabbed the fish and threw it in, arranging it at the bottom, right in the middle of the hot stream. If he left it there an hour or so, like a crockpot, Jensen was pretty sure it would be more or less cooked.
Jensen made a horrified noise and started protesting in Latin, reaching out like he might grab it out of the hot water.
“I’m not ruining it,” Jensen said firmly, swatting his hand away. “Food. Cooked food. Mmm.” He rubbed his belly.
Jared gave up and dramatically flung himself back into the shallows, rolling over on his back and covering his face with his whole arm. I can’t even look at you.
Jensen laughed. He couldn’t help liking Jared; he was so full of life. If this had been a normal, human interaction, he’d already consider them fast friends.
He wanted to spend more time with the merman, despite being sort of held captive.
Jared was peeking over at him to see what effect his theatrics were having. Jensen laughed and went over to sit by him as he ate.
Since he didn’t have a spoon, it was more like tossing it straight back from the can. But he was hungry enough not to care. It tasted delicious. He swiped up some juice that dribbled down his chin.
Jared grabbed a bit of seaweed and ate it, demonstrating, like he thought Jensen might need to be shown that it was edible.
Jensen sighed and took a little bit. Everybody had to try new things, right?
It didn’t really taste good, but it didn’t taste bad, either. He figured it might grow on him if he was stuck here long enough to get sick of chili. But mostly, he did it because of how Jared smiled at him when he did. The amount of time they were spending just smiling at each other...Jensen didn’t know what was up with him. Maybe it was the near-death experience.
Whatever. He swiped up the last of the chili on his finger and held it out to Jared with a teasing grin.
Jared’s eyes went wide: clearly, he hadn’t expected being offered “people food” in return. But then his eyes narrowed. Just as clearly, he wasn’t willing to pass up the opening. His tongue came out and caught a drop as it was about to fall. He absorbed the taste for a second, then his lips closed over the tip of Jensen’s finger.
Jensen held his breath, scarcely moving.
With a sensual relish that would have made him rich if he’d ever gotten into porn, Jared cleaned his outstretched finger thoroughly before he leaned back and smirked.
Jensen couldn’t be blamed, after that: he had to kiss that smirk off the merman’s face, didn’t he?
Jared kissed back eagerly, one arm coming up to slide up and down his side. There was a lot of bare skin between them; Jared wore nothing but a bracer on his upper arm, and Jensen had never gotten around to putting his still-wet clothes on after waking up. They’d undoubtedly be crusted with salt when they did dry out, and it seemed odd to make something of it when his hosts clearly didn’t care how naked he was.
Thinking about the novelty of so much skin so early in the encounter, Jensen was caught off-guard when Jared bowled him over and landed on top. Gen hadn’t done any such thing. He’d been with women who wanted to be on top of him before—mainly Danneel—but Jared was a lot bigger, and there was no place for his tail to go other than between Jensen’s legs. Or anyway, that’s what he told himself as he spread them to settle Jared comfortably between them.
It was only that there was no escaping that Jared was very, very male. Jensen felt a shiver go through him at the position they were in now. It wasn’t anything he was used to, but it was hot; he liked it more than he’d thought he would. There was only one very male thing that wasn’t there, come to think of it. His own dick was pressing enthusiastically into the odd change at Jared’s waist where human skin grew scales and became fish-flesh, but Jared didn’t seem to have the same thing.
Jensen hadn’t thought much about it before, somehow, but of course it would be ridiculous for mermen to swim around with their junk dangling out. Did that mean they didn’t have any, though? If they did and it was going to come out to play, shouldn’t it be happening by now?
Jared saw him looking down their bodies and laughed. He rolled off of Jensen, who was part relieved and part sorry, and took his hand, guiding it down the gray scales of his tail to a slit in the same place Gen’s had been. Except now that Jensen felt it, there did seem to be a bulge that hadn’t been there on Gen. He stroked it, remembering, and sure enough the edges softened up and relaxed.
In for a penny, in for whatever. Did merfolk use currency? Jensen, feeling reckless, brought his head down and licked. Jared groaned with enthusiasm, and the slit opened for a knob of flesh to peek out.
So they did have something, Jensen thought, absurdly pleased at his discovery. Retractable cocks. Retractable cocks weren’t in any of the mermaid tales he’d ever heard. Obviously those tales didn't know half of it about tails, hah. Jensen could go back home and write a book.
He licked the knobby cockhead a few times, because it was there and why not, and it extruded some more until it was roughly the size of a human penis. Thinner, especially at the tip, definitely more tapered. A bit longer. It was also self-lubricating: a clear, slippery fluid coated it and oozed out around the thick base. It didn’t really taste like semen; it was vaguely fishy, but not very. It didn’t taste like anything he’d encountered before, but it was male and somehow suited Jared perfectly. He decided he didn’t mind it in the least and got more into the blowjob, bobbing his head to take more of it in.
Jared groaned even more enthusiastically, and ran his fingers gently through Jensen’s hair. Sure, Jensen was nervous about rushing into sex here, too, with an entirely different species, no less. He had no idea what they were planning for him, except that obviously sex was on the table. He wished he could have a real conversation with Jared or Gen, ask what their plans were and how long he was going to stay here and if there were going to be new merfolk every day, all wanting their turn with him. And what would happen if he said no, or asked to leave. Jared and Gen had been nice so far, bent over backwards to make him feel comfortable, and he was enjoying the sex, sure—especially after a long dry spell aboard ship—but he’d enjoy it more if he weren’t worrying about tomorrow.
How not to have sex, Ackles, he told himself. Right now, all he had to worry about was giving a blowjob, and making it awesome. He didn’t have to worry about not having money or knowing where he was going to sleep, at least. He could just focus on making Jared feel good. Plus, the taste was growing on him, the longer he kept at it.
Jared didn’t warn him when he came, just shuddered all over a couple times and flooded his mouth with salty, bitter fluid. Jensen swallowed some of it, but a lot ran out of his mouth. Jared used his fingers to swipe some of it off his chin. He dragged Jensen up into kissing range and arched up to lick into his mouth, kissing wet and deep and dirty.
And Jensen felt his hand reaching around and down his back, skating over the muscle of his ass and into his crack. His fingers were cool and slippery, still, with merman come and Jared rubbed it into his skin, around his asshole and then slipped the tip of a finger into it.
Jensen broke off the kiss. “Look, maybe that’s enough for right now,” he muttered, not expecting Jared to understand the words, but having to say them anyway.
Jared seemed to get the idea, anyway, and his hand backed off good-naturedly to Jensen’s waist. Jensen smiled and rewarded him with a kiss. They made out for a while, comfortably, and then Jared’s hand started moving again, but this time to the front.
Yes, of course Jensen was hard. He’d been hard for ages. Jared was arching a brow in clear question, and Jensen groaned and nodded. “Yes, God yes.”