A Bone in His Teeth

by Kellen Graves

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.”

The anticipation became all he could think about, sliding a hand between them, where he thought he might find the man’s cock—but there were only flat, slippery scales. Alba groped further, until his fingers pressed into a dip in the muscles between his hips, sliding inside and summoning an animal sound from the man on top of him. “Careful, sailor,” Eridanys growled, and Alba nearly pulled his hand away in surprise, but Eridanys grabbed his wrist first. Smiling at him, darkly, intensely, then coaxing it back despite those words. “I don’t like to be teased. Tempt me at your own risk.”

Dominated until Alba’s body was no longer his, all of it culminating higher and higher and higher with every slamming movement inside. Piercing him, filling him, tearing him open for the sea and sky to witness, lost in a swirl of pleasure and fear and pure delight. Until he clawed at Eridanys’ body in return, opening his mouth and biting down on the siren’s shoulder, making Eridanys hiss and wrench back. “More, more—” Alba’s voice trembled, fighting to keep Eridanys close as tears flooded from his eyes, washed away by the sea spray and rain. “Don’t stop—I want you—to fuck me more, more⁠—”

Eridanys laid a trail of kisses down the center of Alba’s chest, before connecting with Alba’s mouth once more, breathing life back into him, barely keeping him conscious long enough to whisper one last thing: “I will protect you from harm, from the sea and on land, with this act. So be it.”

Sitting up, he realized the wetness between his legs wasn’t only a remnant of the dream, as fluids dripped from inside of him. His face rushed with hot embarrassment, leaping to his feet to rush for the washbasin beneath the window, only to collapse to his knees with a groan as a sore ache bolted up his spine. Christ—what had that siren done to him?

Alba squinted toward the water lapping against the rocks, surprising even himself when he smiled at the sight of a white moon-spot floating above the surface. It gazed back at him, just long enough to confirm Alba was up and alive, before plunking back down under again. Why did that make Alba chuckle? Why did his smile remain half-quirked all the way to the lighthouse door, all the way up the winding stairs with his cane in one hand and a book in the other? He must be going mad.

How would he ever explain what he’d done to his mother? What in the world would she say? Would she smile and congratulate him; would she sigh in exasperation, unsurprised her touch-starved sailor son had been so willing to open his legs for the first thing to call to him?

How it felt to be held so tightly in such imposing arms—how it felt to shiver and go numb beneath the cold, crashing waves. The taste of Eridanys’ mouth, salty and sweet; how many times he nearly drowned during their ritual.

“Damnit,” Alba finally gasped as a single sense of reality sparked in the back of his mind. “What—do you want?” He meant to say more, breathless with hands still on Eridanys’ face, but the man was pulling down the high collar of his shirt and kissing under his ear, down the side of his neck. “You. Again.” “Why—?”

You look like a feral cat being taken inside for the first time. Stop hunching like that. Why do you look so alarmed? Straighten up. Meet their eyes. You’re a grown man, for god’s sake. Stop acting like a salty sailor. I will not let you become an anti-social man who prefers the sea over people.

“Gene says you sailed some ten years before coming to work for us—a wonder you survived that long, considering that bright red hair of yours. And still so young! Such pretty blue eyes, too. You sure you weren’t drinking saltwater while out on the sea, lad? Heard she loves blue eyes; might’ve spared you for it despite that hair.” “Phyl,” Eugene grunted.

“You have it in you to help out?” Alba absolutely did not, especially with how his leg hurt like a bitch just from the hike up the road, not to mention he’d been ruthlessly attacked by a merrow on the lighthouse rocks just the morning prior—but he nodded, nonetheless.

The work of moving larger fishing boats out to sea by far wasn’t the most difficult work Alba had ever done, but with the state Eridanys had left him in, it wasn’t particularly easy, either.

“You can’t read, can you?” “I can read just fine.” “It’s alright if you can’t. Doesn’t bother me.” Eridanys scoffed, adjusting the scarf wrapped around his head to hide his hair and shadow his eyes as the sun barely peeked through the thinning clouds overhead. “I can read fine, but not human languages. My last partner taught me the English alphabet, but hardly more than that. Never saw a reason to ask. Always talked down to me when I tried, anyway.” “Sorry to hear that,” Alba said. Eridanys threw him a sharp look, like Alba was on the verge of scolding him. Instead, Alba shrugged. “Readin’s hard, ‘specially if you don’t learn as a baby. My mother taught me, but just enough to get by. Takes me weeks to get through even small books. Most folk I sailed with never learned how to read, neither, and plenty were smarter than any educated man I’ve ever met.”

“I’m startin’ to think your partner didn’t treat you so well,” Alba went on. “I never said that.” “Didn’t have to.

“Don’t think they’ll be too thrilled to know I came back. Let alone alive.” Alba frowned. “Startin’ to think your kin didn’t treat you so well, neither…”

“Are you a caller of the shore?” A soft voice cooed, gentle and alluring. Ghostly fingers suddenly touched the side of his head where the silver hair was tucked away, and it took everything in Alba not to lurch in surprise. “Who is your caller of the sea, brine witch?” “Who else could it be? Who else is left?” “Delphinus? Hydrus?” “Cetus?” “Circinus?” Alba didn’t answer.

“Eridanys, the alm of the fata morgana… Does he really swim in our harbor again?”

“Would you like to know what happened to the last human to call for him?” “Closer, child, please, tell us more. Tell us of our brother returned from the sea-obscura.”

“Perhaps the gods will finally take you once and for all⁠—” “Without a bone left behind to spit out again.” “And you, shore caller⁠—” Eridanys’ hold on Alba tightened further. “—Come bear witness yourself, see what this crimson-mouthed siren started. Come see why they did what they did to the blood you seek.”

“You won’t have to speak to them again,” he muttered. “Good riddance.” “I’ll gladly never speak them again,” Alba huffed. “You, neither, if I could help it.” Eridanys surprised him with a sharp laugh, though it was sarcastic. “You say that so confidently, yet I felt how your heart raced the moment you realized I was behind you.” “Oh—fuck off! Let go of me!” Alba squirmed in the siren’s strong arm, but Eridanys’ grip remained firm, even laughing a bit more with the challenge of keeping hold on his thrashing companion. “Don’t fight so much, sailor. It gets me excited.”

Eridanys didn’t answer, didn’t tease further, just continued staring up at the sky. Still waiting for its message to open up for him. Alba kept watching him, observing every twitch of his pale irises as they reflected the glowing white spots speckling the dark canvas. Without the moon to rival him, Alba thought he really was the most stunning thing to exist.

Waiting for the moon to answer him, even as just the thinnest sliver she appeared as, before she’d disappear the following night. Perhaps too tired to respond even when one of her moonbeams from the sea needed guidance.

“You’re welcome to stay with me here tonight, if you’d like. If you promise to keep quiet and out of sight.” “Why?” Alba frowned. He didn’t realize it was a strange thing to offer, turning and flipping his braid. “I don’t know. Nevermind, I guess. Go sleep in the cold sea all by yourself, like always⁠—”

“Does that bother you?” “What?” Alba asked, moving to untie his boots and finally kick them off, next. “That even they were shocked I would mate with a red-headed thing like you.” “Not really.” “Why not?” Alba shrugged. “I’m not so vain to think we mated for any reason but you need somethin’ from me.

He didn’t want to think about that—about how much more vulnerable, visible he was there on his back on a bed, where people normally fucked each other.

He didn’t want to think about how Eridanys would be able to see every piece of skin he’d been able to hide from unwelcome eyes his entire life, not realizing until that moment how the sea had acted as a curtain the first time they touched each other.

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

Alba cried out in shock, nearly buckling forward had Eridanys not held him up. Getting only a brief moment to gasp as the world spun, eyes crossing and rolling back into his head as he swore the cock penetrated up the whole length of his spine.

“You—were made to be fucked on your knees, sailor,” Eridanys told him, gripping the headboard with the hand not pinning Alba into the bed.

Alba writhed impatiently, cracking open his heavy eyes to gaze up at the creature on top of him. Unable to help rolling his hips slightly to tempt Eridanys back inside. “Good,” he encouraged, rising slightly on his knees and hooking a hand behind Alba’s knee to bend him over himself, aligning himself and pressing both of his eager lengths inside. “Ah—I don’t want to hear you cry—when it’s too much. You asked for this, didn’t you?”

Tears clung to his lashes before dripping down his cheeks, mixing with sweat and the flush of his skin. Through blurry vision, Alba saw exactly how the siren’s cock burrowed into him, deep enough that barely the root of his shaft was visible through the curly red hairs beneath Alba’s navel. He swore he could even see it pressing into his stomach from inside, making the muscles pucker as Eridanys pulled back and thrust in again. God—to see it so clearly, the size and shape, the texture, the realization that something so daunting was inside of him, inside both holes of him at once, using him, fucking him like he’d always fantasized some man one day would—Alba would have smiled if he wasn’t so overcome with the aching pleasure of it all.

“Where?” Eridanys asked, catching Alba by surprise. Alba glanced up at him, briefly, distrustingly, and Eridanys rolled his eyes, slamming his hips forward again and pinning his cocks back deep inside. Alba threw his head back with a choked sound, before pitifully cursing the siren straight to hell. “I asked you where it hurt. Answer me.”

“Am I making you feel that good?” He asked instead, trailing a finger down Alba’s skin, shiny with sweat and trembling with every sensation, stomach clenching and rolling against the thick lengths still pinned inside him. “You want to cum so bad it’s bringing you to tears?” “No—” “The other sailors really had no idea what they could have had in you, god help them,” Eridanys went on with a playful smile.

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

He fucked Alba with the same eagerness, but lacking the same aggression; with hitches in his breath, with arms wrapped around Alba from behind and hands that pressed flat against his stomach, as if to feel how the cocks moved in and out of him.

Alba never expected to sleep so easily right alongside someone like Eridanys, let alone wrapped in his arms, held by that siren who’d been so rough and demanding and delicious only hours prior. Whose arm draping over him soon twitched and shifted as the siren himself drifted off, eventually traveling up to cup around the front of Alba’s throat in a possessive, protective sort of way, like even fast asleep in that bed far from the sea, he still worried the tide might sweep in and take him.

He opted to not prod further, just watching, trying to figure out exactly what it was that caught Eridanys’ interest with each item he picked up. A book he flipped through without actually looking; another handful of loose photographs he tossed to the floor; a stick of perfume he unscrewed, sniffed, and scowled at. It was amusing, strangely captivating. Alba even laughed softly a few times, earning a narrowed look from Eridanys in return, who clearly didn’t like being watched. But did nothing to vocally protest, either, like he wasn’t sure how to feel. Like no one had ever given him such attention in such a mundane moment, before. A shame—Alba couldn’t help but be interested in everything Eridanys did.

“I spent a lot of time swimming up north as well, you know,” Eridanys teased with a threatening flick of his tongue. “Found there to be far more to eat with so many ships ice-breaking and whaling. I wonder if you ever heard me sing without knowing it.” Alba’s face went hot. He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he said. “I definitely would not be here if that were the case.” Eridanys liked that. He smiled a little too much, gazing at Alba a little too long as if imagining it.

“Perhaps, instead of killing you when this is all over, I’ll bring you as many treasures as you need in exchange.” “Oh, you were thinkin’ ‘bout killing me?” “At first, yes.” “But not anymore?”

“Because I know the agony of owing a debt you can never pay back,” Eridanys muttered, aggressively shoving the book in his hand back into the pile of clutter. “And you’ve gone this long without becoming as deranged and bloodthirsty as me. Perhaps I think…” he pressed his lips together. Still avoiding Alba’s eyes, like even he didn’t know what he was saying. Or why. “Perhaps I simply think it would be a shame if you ever did.”

“Is that why they don’t bother me so much when you’re there?” Eridanys flashed a nasty, satisfied little smile, showing off his sharp teeth. A good enough answer.

The pale siren spent more time hunched on the balls of his feet mumbling and scouring the mud with his claws than he did upright. Intent on proving a point, on proving himself a fine mate that could provide treasures to his chosen person. Alba had never heard the man repeat his name so many times in only a few hours, endlessly seeking his attention with every additional discovery. Alba. Alba, here. Alba, look. Alba. Alba. What do you think? Always followed by an extended hand dribbling a few pearls, pretty shells, even sometimes what looked like lost merrow jewelry.

“Leg hurts from walkin’ around, just wanted to take a break. These are really pretty, thank you.” Eridanys didn’t turn away to continue searching that time, though. He gazed down at Alba with the slightest wrinkle in his nose. “Even with your walking stick?” He asked. Alba drew a circle in the sand with the end of his cane. “It’s not magic. Someone did a real number on me last night, anyway.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” Eridanys snapped, before pressing his lips together and exhaling through his nose. Calming himself back down. “That your leg hurt.” “Thought it didn’t really matt⁠—” “How long until you learn to ask for my help?

“Is that really how you want to say such a thing to me?” “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t⁠—” “Try again,” Alba said, tucking the handful of pearls in the pocket of his jacket. “Or I’m going to get annoyed.” Eridanys made a sound like he wanted more than anything to argue, before clapping his mouth back shut, puffing up his chest, crossing his arms before uncrossing them again. “I—!” he barked, but gulped that back, too, finally managing a new approach: “I would like for you to tell me when you’re uncomfortable! So that I can take care of you! That’s all! Don’t make me say it again!”

“Thank you. And try not to take it so personally—askin’ for help isn’t my first nature. Had that beat out of me quick. Not even my second, I don’t think.”

“I will sit with you until you’re ready.” “You really don’t have to⁠—” “I would like to be caring toward you,” he interrupted, cutting himself short and pressing his lips together before adding: “I recommend you stop taking my offers for granted.

“He never asked me for anything. But for reasons different than yours. Even if he did, I wouldn’t have wanted to give it. He only ever…” he trailed off again. Alba waited, then gently touched Eridanys’ hair scarf, nudging it slightly from where a few strands of white hair were peeking through. Eridanys tugged it further at the thought. “He only ever took from me, without asking what I wanted. And I was expected to give it to him. I prefer to be asked, rather than expected…”

Before spreading the salt over the body, using a knife different from the one to slit the merrow’s throat and open its chest, another figure drew a long, precise line down the center of their tail. A silver tool like a potter’s rib was inserted beneath their scales, scraping thick curls of shimmering white fat out from between the skin and muscle. With it came a distinct minty-sweet aroma—and a wave of spinning, nauseating recognition crashed into Alba like a tidal wave.