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take you on them rocks, so crystal clear

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Humans are odd creatures. Clunky and awkward and awful at swimming. Yut-lung has never liked them, has never really thought of them as anything more than foolish and gullible, easily trapped and stupid enough to do anything for a beautiful body they think they can use.

Yut-lung isn’t Eiji, who has been fascinated with humans and their endless supply of oddities and accessories all his life. Eiji, who takes every opportunity to swim dangerously close to land just so he can observe his humans instead of luring them to their deaths. Eiji, who has fallen in love and had his heart broken so, so many times because of all the humans who only thought of him as a monster.

Yut-lung isn’t Eiji. He isn’t naive or optimistic. He doesn’t look for the good in humans. He doesn’t reach out for them like Eiji does, doesn’t dream about living among them, even just for one day. He definitely doesn’t seek them out unless he intends to sink his teeth into their skin and pull out their warm flesh from their bones.

And yet, one human changes that. And yet, Yut-lung finds himself in the arms of one of those humans, and the only sinking of teeth that he’s doing is right into his own forearm, as he attempts to stifle the cries and moans that this human coaxes out of him so easily, so lovingly.

His name is Blanca, and he’s the most beautiful human Yut-lung has ever seen.





Yut-lung has never let a human live after seeing him, but that changes with Blanca.

Perhaps it’s the way Blanca looks at him when they first meet, his eyes soft, dark only in a way that tells of his experience rather than the thoughts in his head, unlike everyone else who catches a glimpse of Yut-lung’s pale skin and pretty face, who thinks he’s someone who’s better off owing them a favor rather than dead. Perhaps it’s the way Blanca speaks, his voice low and pleasant, never expectant, never tinged with rotten intentions. Or, perhaps it’s the way he holds himself in such a way that Yut-lung wouldn’t expect from someone of his stature—someone with broad shoulders and thick arms and hands big enough that he’d only need one of them to take Yut-lung’s neck and crush it.

Blanca could kill Yut-lung if he tried hard enough, could have his way with Yut-lung if he asked for it, and yet he doesn’t. He never forces Yut-lung, never pushes, never treats him like he’s lesser for having a tail instead of those odd, skinny things they call legs.

No, there’s never any of that from Blanca. Far from it, actually.

Yut-lung has never let a human live after seeing him, but, as Blanca sinks under the water to wrap his mouth around Yut-lung’s cock, he knows he made the right decision.

Well. Maybe that isn’t fair.

Even now, Yut-lung isn’t sure if Blanca is the rule or the exception, because yes, Blanca is, perhaps, the only human Yut-lung has seen who didn’t scream and shrink from terror when he saw the rest of Yut-lung’s body under the water, but he can’t imagine any other humans would willingly, without any compulsions woven into their minds, dive into the water and deprive themselves of air just to pleasure someone else.

He definitely can’t imagine them doing it as well as Blanca does.

Blanca, with his broad shoulders and his big hands and his dark eyes, takes Yut-lung so well, so deep down his throat that Yut-lung can’t help but throw his head back against the rocky shore they’ve claimed as their own, their place to meet, to talk, to fuck.

Blanca’s face is distorted through the waves, but Yut-lung doesn’t need to see him clearly to know he’s bright red, from his neck, to his cheeks, to the tips of his ears. Yut-lung is familiar with the faces humans make as they’re dragged down deeper and deeper into the ocean; he knows the shape of their mouths as they scream uselessly into the water, the curve of their brows as they try to get out of Yut-lung’s hold and up to the surface, the dark black color of their eyes as they grab onto Yut-lung’s shoulders so they can at least look at something beautiful before they die. Blanca looks nothing like that.

Blanca, with his eyes closed and his lips red where they’re wrapped around Yut-lung’s cock and pressed to the slit that lies below the dip of his hips where pale skin gives way to the smooth, striped scales of Yut-lung’s tail. Blanca, with his brows furrowed in concentration and his throat tight as it works around Yut-lung’s cock. Blanca, who looks so beautiful and fucked out when Yut-lung finally pulls him up to the surface, who finally opens his eyes and gazes up at Yut-lung with that same softness that Yut-lung saw when they first met.

“Did you feel good?” Blanca asks, even as he’s gasping for breath.

Yut-lung doesn’t answer, only pulls him close, only wraps his arms around Blanca’s neck so he can lean in for a kiss. And Blanca, with his shaking hands and his bruised lips, only holds onto Yut-lung’s hips and kisses him back, slow, without hesitation. Even though his tongue and his lips always come out bitten red when they kiss, he doesn’t complain, doesn’t pull away. He plunges right into it, even knowing the shape of Yut-lung’s sharp teeth waiting for him.

His skin is hot against Yut-lung’s, feels like concentrated sunshine against Yut-lung’s neck and his torso and the small of his back. His cock is even hotter against Yut-lung’s abdomen. Yut-lung has only ever heard of fire, has only ever seen it from afar, but this is what he imagines it feels like—overwhelming, like lying too long in the afternoon sun and being stung by the sea when he finally comes back to it.

Yut-lung takes Blanca’s cock in his hand, considers its heavy weight in his hold, its odd shape, with its odd little head, nothing like Yut-lung’s own which tapers off at the end. He wraps his hand around it, careful of his claws, and he pumps it, once, twice—again and again until Blanca has to pull away, a gasp escaping from his lips.

“Do you feel good?” Yut-lung asks, but he already knows the answer.

Blanca breathes into his shoulder, whimpering, moaning with every drag of Yut-lung’s palm against his cock. Yut-lung licks his lips, tries and fails to keep a smile off his face because the sounds coming out Blanca are beautiful and they’re all because of him.

Yut-lung dips his head down, licks a stripe up Blanca’s jaw, barely keeps himself from shivering because Blanca tastes like the sea, tastes like home, like he’s Yut-lung’s and Yut-lung’s only.

“What do you need me to do, Blanca?” he asks. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

The words shouldn’t ring so true, shouldn’t taste so much like relief, shouldn’t be anything more than mere platitudes, and yet.

And yet Yut-lung would maim and kill anyone who hurt Blanca. And yet Yut-lung finds himself mesmerized, fascinated when he should be the one entrancing Blanca, enticing him to his death. And yet, for Blanca, Yut-lung would give up his tail for those legs, still so odd despite Yut-lung’s newfound appreciation for them.

“Fuck me,” Blanca says, and yes, yes, of course, as if  Yut-lung would do anything more than agree to this beautiful, wonderful man.

He takes it slow, holds Blanca by his hips and enters little by little, savors every hitch of Blanca’s breath, every moan, every other noise he can’t help. Yut-lung watches the progression of Blanca’s flush from his cheeks and his neck go all the way down to his chest until it reaches the point where the waves kiss Blanca’s skin. He watches the beads of sweat drip down Blanca’s temple, down his neck, until it pools in his collarbone where Yut-lung can dip his head and lick it up.

He watches Blanca struggle, watches him reach desperately for something, anything to hang onto until he finally settles on wrapping an arm around Yut-lung’s shoulders. His nails are blunt, and Yut-lung’s skin is tougher than a human’s, but Blanca holds onto him tight enough that Yut-lung knows it’ll leave a mark. Good—he wants to remember.

Blanca, tight around him. Blanca, grunting with every thrust of Yut-lung’s hips. Blanca, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed, so open and trusting when Yut-lung is a creature with sharp claws and even sharper teeth.

“More,” Blanca breathes. “Harder.”

Yut-lung presses a kiss to Blanca’s neck, right above his pulse point, says, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

And that’s it, isn’t it? Even in the beginning, Yut-lung looked at Blanca and thought, no, he couldn’t sink his teeth into Blanca’s flesh, couldn’t watch color drain from his lips, curved upwards into that warm smile of his. Even in the beginning, Yut-lung didn’t want to hurt him, and it’s true until now.

But Blanca has a tendency to go beyond Yut-lung’s expectations, it seems.

“I can take it,” Blanca says. He leans closer, licks Yut-lung’s lips and whispers his next words into them. “I want to make you feel good, Yut-lung.”

Blanca’s breath is labored, his arm around Yut-lung tighter than before. Yut-lung has been with him enough times to know that he must be getting tired. They’ve been out here for a while after all; Blanca always takes his time with Yut-lung, until his fingers are wrinkly and his legs are so tired from swimming that Yut-lung has to hold him up by his arms and drag him to land. He spoils Yut-lung until he can’t anymore, until he’s sinking into the water and it’s only Yut-lung who can dive in and save him.

And yet here he is, asking for more.

Yut-lung doesn’t understand it, but he will, one day. With every single time he swims to the shore and pulls Blanca into the water, he learns something new, understands something else about this odd, beautiful creature that he’s discovered and claimed for his own. One day, he’ll know Blanca inside-out, and maybe then he’ll know if humans really are as wonderful as Blanca makes them seem.

For now, he’ll fuck Blanca like he’s been asked to.

His grip tightens around Blanca’s hips, and he pushes in until he can’t anymore, until Blanca is shaking and barely holding onto him. He stays still for a moment, stops himself from moving because he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to control himself once he does, but— ah, it’s difficult, with Blanca’s warmth around him, with Blanca, gritting his teeth, crying into Yut-lung’s neck. It’s difficult, when Yut-lung has Blanca’s words ringing in his ear.

I can take it. I can take it. I want to make you feel good.

Yut-lung doesn’t need Blanca to push himself in order to feel good. Yut-lung just needs Blanca.

He holds his breath, pulls out of Blanca just so he can push right back in, licks up the tears at the corners of Blanca’s eyes before he pulls and pushes again and again and again, until Blanca tenses up, arches his back, finally comes, spilling into the sea. Blanca doesn’t let go of Yut-lung even then, and Yut-lung doesn’t let go of him either even after he’s pulled out of Blanca.

Blanca’s still catching his breath, but Yut-lung has this sudden impulse trying to crawl up his throat and he gives into it, curls his hand around Blanca’s cheek and says, “Take me with you.”

Blanca’s eyes are still dark, slow to focus on Yut-lung.

“What?”

“Take me with you,” Yut-lung repeats. “Take me to the surface, Blanca.”

And there it is, once again, that softness in Blanca’s eyes that Yut-lung has grown so attached to.

He already knows what Blanca’s answer will be.





(Yut-lung’s legs are long and lean. They’re different from Blanca’s, but he likes them, he thinks.

At the very least, he likes wrapping them around Blanca’s hips, and that makes him happy enough.)