A Bone in His Teeth

by Kellen Graves

Should you ever return to an empty home, don’t believe anything they tell you. You’ll always find safe harbor under the moon.

He wondered if they would consecrate a stone and jar of sea water in the back yard as an altar to a sailor lost at sea, just like his mother had; set for Alba’s father, starved to death on a northern ice-locked ship then eaten by crew mates who inevitably died right alongside him. Alba used to shudder at the thought; but since returning home years prior knowing what it was like to fear for one’s life on an ice-locked ship in the north, knowing what human flesh tasted like on his own tongue, he’d realized to die first was actually a blessing.

His mother used to always tell him, the sea rarely took someone who would be noticed gone. Someone who bore the mark of a protective braid behind the ear, especially when given by someone who knew the old magic of the sea.

You’ll always find safe harbor under the moon.

He silently prayed they weren’t the type of town to kill the likes of him on sight, the type to worry his presence alone would sour their secluded fishing spot. They might have been even more eager if they knew he’d been born like a woman, too.

He’d never been enticed by the sea before. Not once. To finally know what so many sailors heard before giving in to the call that tempted them—and for it to happen to him while all alone, isolated, with hardly a soul knowing where he was⁠— It was nothing but beauty—and dread—and heartbreak, at forcing himself to ignore it. Gut-churning, soul-rocking heartbreak, distressing enough that Alba burst into tears with how badly he wished to turn and race back out to hear it again.

‘take that bone from your teeth; good things come to those who wait.’

“I prefer pretty redheads like you.”

The townspeople wanted something from him. The merrow wanted something from him. Even Josiah’s dogs wanted something from him.

How ironic, for someone of the land and someone of the sea to meet in that same miserable place. Searching for those who were meant to be there waiting. Missing. Not a trace to be found. As if Moon Harbor had swallowed every one of them whole.

“Easy!” Alba snapped, yanking his hand away as the man blinked away his disorientation. “You haven’t moved in some twelve hours, you know. Do you need to be watered? Like a beached whale?”

Fearing someone else would come. Clearly, someone else would come. Someone already had. There would be a third. Then a fourth, and a fifth. And Alba just wished his feral sea-creature would come back and be ready to gut anyone who did.

“Oh, am I generous now?” Alba rolled his eyes. “First with ripping out Marco’s throat for me, and now smearing sea-shit on my face.”

He didn’t want Eridanys’ ego to get any bigger than it was. There wouldn’t be any room left in the house if it did.

“The sea feasts most enthusiastically on the land’s most unwanted offerings,”

“Perhaps you’ve simply never given in to the call of something you would risk it all for?”

“And what if the siren enjoyed the indulgence of you so much that they decided to let you live?”

“You’re exactly the type of man most creatures would love to play with.”

“I promise I’ll treat you tenderly, sailor. Just come when you’re called, alright? Don’t resist me, this time. Who knows what I’ll do if you don’t come. I’m desperate enough.”

Deciding, even if it killed him, to trust that siren who claimed to still need him. Hoping it wouldn’t come to that; hoping a siren was even a thing capable of being truthful.

To taste the song on his tongue, wondering if it would coat his insides as deliciously as it caressed his mind. Deep and rich and melodic—invisible, all-encompassing hands groped at him, silencing his mind altogether, until only his most basic instincts remained. Basic instincts that knew only sensation, flesh—desire.

He clung to the exterior of the lighthouse for a moment, straining his ears to listen over the incoming storm—wishing to hear its call again. Knowing it was there, sure it would ring out again for him. That song meant for him, only him—a song that meant someone, something was out there that wished to have him.

With such a hypnotizing voice in his ear, Alba thought he wouldn’t grieve his own death if it was at the pale hands of the moon.

“You will be made my caller of the shore,” the humming, growling voice spoke between their mouths, making Alba’s heart race. “My bride of the salted air, my brine witch. I will be your caller of the sea—your bride of the shore and soil, your mud witch.”

Alba was owned, accounted for by something of the sea, and Eridanys was clearly satisfied with knowing he was the one who placed the mark.

“I’m trustin’ you.” Alba’s voice shook slightly, not realizing until the words were already out. He steadied his cane. “Don’t take that for granted.”

“Don’t fight so much, sailor. It gets me excited.”

Without the moon to rival him, Alba thought he really was the most stunning thing to exist.

It was nothing like what he’d felt on the rocks the first time, nothing his own wet fingers had ever been able to find while alone in his hammock on the dark sea—and combined with the way Eridanys never took his eyes away every time Alba risked a glance, Alba couldn’t help but find a sickening thrill in wondering if being eaten alive felt that good all the time.

“Good to know that stubborn exterior still melts with the simplest touch,”

“Which hole would you prefer I fuck first? Or would you rather I fill both at once, again?”

“You—were made to be fucked on your knees, sailor,”

“Grip me harder than that,” Eridanys grunted into Alba’s ear, words laced with satisfaction. “I’m going to fuck you—until you can’t take it anymore.”

“The other sailors really had no idea what they could have had in you, god help them,”

have to make sure every time my mate cums, it’s better than the last.”

Alba couldn’t help but be interested in everything Eridanys did.

“Don’t you dare drown me,” he threatened into Eridanys’ ear. “I’ll haunt you for every day you’re still alive.” “Promise?”

Even in such low light, the siren glowed like the moon herself; brighter than the mosaic, more stunning than even the goddess depicted there.

“I would have still put my eyes on you and failed to ever look away again. I would have still made you mine any time I spotted you. From any shore.”

“I’m trying to tell you that I’ve come to care for you more than I anticipated. Perhaps I didn’t intend on staying with you long at first⁠—” “You also thought about killin’ me.” “I did. But not anymore.” “You care for me enough to not want to kill me?” “Yes. So I suggest you stop arguing before I change my mind.”

“What was that for?” Eridanys asked with a little surprise. “I just like you,” Alba answered. “You and your mouth. That’s all.”

A perfect siren, all his. Eridanys was all his.

“God—Neptune save me, I will gut any man who ever lays a hand on what’s mine.”

“Cum for me,” he whispered, making Alba shiver. “I want you to cum for me, Albatross, my prince of the sea.”

“You’re my shore-caller. I will always come when you call, no matter where or when. From any shore.” “What if I can’t reach a shore to call from?”

“Then I will beseech the sea to rise high enough for me to reach you,” Eridanys said without hesitation. “And I think she would listen.”

“There’s enough salt in the sea,” he whispered. “Don’t add to it with tears, Albatross.”

Climb a mountain. Dance at a festival. Ride a train. Walk through the desert—and see if such places are actually as hot as I once read about.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling the man closer. “I love you, I love you. I want you, I want to be with you, anywhere else than here.” “I’ll go wherever you are,” Eridanys responded, breath tickling the hairs on the back of Alba’s neck. “With you I’ll always stay, Albatross. Prince of the sea.”