Orm knows his brother's strong but when he pulls on the chains, he can't free himself. Orm is unsurprised, but pleased. These golden chains were made to hold him, after all, thighs and wrists and ankles. They were made to keep him exactly where Orm wants him.
"Are you ready to begin?" Orm asks, and Arthur scowls. If they were on land, he'd probably spit at him, but the sea is Orm's home, not Arthur's. Orm rules here, and one day perhaps Arthur will accept that.
Orm opens the box; the creature emerges. It's small, and a deep, shining blue, and though Arthur tries to use his gift to sway its choice, it chooses to obey its king. It swirls toward him, its tentacles blurring the water, and Arthur tries to jerk away but the chains hold tight. His arms are held out to his sides and his thighs are spread wide, exposing him, with his knees there on the ground. The creature attaches itself to his throat, over his jugular, tentacles spread like a star. Arthur's eyes close. He grimaces, and his cock begins to swell. Orm smiles.
Atlantean men don't usually require anything as crass as lubricant, but Arthur is not Atlantean, not truly. When Orm ducks under the chains and floats around behind him, when he kneels, when he runs two fingertips between his brother's cheeks, all he can feel is water and tight muscle. If he had the correct physiology, his hole would be loose and slick from the creature's heady aphrodisiac venom, ready for Orm's cock. He almost likes that he's not, though. It means when he uses the thick, viscous lubricant, when he scoops it from its pot and rubs it over Arthur's hole, he's tight and hot and initially unyielding, so human that it makes Orm sick to think that they're in any way related.
He pushes his middle finger in, knuckle-deep, and makes Arthur moan. His hair's spread out in the water and sometimes Orm considers cutting it, or having one of the palace servants braid it, style it, make it neater, but he always decides against it - now he pulls on it, making Arthur arch his back as he breaches him with a second finger. His ridiculous human hole shivers tight around his fingers and then slowly begins to relax, and stretch. Orm hates it. He loves it. It makes his own cock stiff and his own hole slick.
He pulls his hand back. He pushes his trousers down over his thighs and he applies the lubricant to the length of his cock. He rubs the scaled tip between Arthur's cheeks and presses it against his hole, thick and blunt and ready.
"You fucking disgust me," Arthur says, through gritted teeth, and Orm laughs as he pushes into him because Arthur's voice is so weak but he means his words so vehemently, or at least he does in spirit, at least he does for now. His body, though, his body wants it. He shivers deeply at the penetration, and when Orm reaches forward to rake his nails over Arthur's bare chest, over his nipples, his smooth and scaleless abdomen, his human cock is almost as hard as Orm's with its Atlantean scales. When Orm moves, when he starts to fuck him, the ridges of his scales make Arthur groan and shiver. The tightness of his hole, the friction on his scales, makes Orm wish he'd found him sooner. He could have had him for years by now, not just these last few months. It's not like Orvax would have cared.
If Arthur were Atlantean and not this abomination of a thing he is, if he knew his place in their society and saw this for the privilege it is, Orm would keep him as a consort. Marriage would be out of the question for a variety of reasons, but were he Atlantean he could at least be bred. As he fucks him, as he lets his hands roam, Orm imagines; he's never taken a mate, not a real one, not one he'd use for more than sex, but Arthur's strong and even if half of him is human, half of him is royalty. Orm's had other men, and he's had women, too, but he's never spawned in them because he's never wanted to, not even when they begged him. Arthur, though...he'd be perfect. Except for that one minor detail.
Arthur pulls against his chains again and even weak with venom he sends ripples through the water. He hates this, or he tells Orm that when he comes into the room, glaring daggers from his knees. The chains aren't always on; when Orm arrives, he activates them, and no matter how much Arthur struggles, they find their way to where they're meant to go. He pulls again and his muscles tense and Orm can't help but admire their definition. It really is such a terrible waste.
If he were Atlantean, Orm would lay his eggs in him. He shivers at the thought of it and bucks in deeper, so deep that the sensitive scales of his sac push against Arthur's ass and make him moan in pleasure. He'd like to do it, he thinks, because Arthur would hate it, carrying his eggs, swelling with them, his body infusing them with equal parts of his own DNA. They could make a king together, or a queen, beautiful like their mother and strong like the two of them.
He'd like to do it. And he thinks maybe he can at least pretend; he steadies himself there on his knees in the water and then he pushes forward, and he feels Arthur's tight human hole stretch around him. He rubs at his rim with his fingertips and Arthur moans entirely against his will and Orm thinks he can take it, so he starts to ease his sac inside. It's a tight fit. Almost too tight, and it makes his heartbeat quicken, but he perseveres. His sac swells in Arthur's ass and makes him yank on the chains and push back greedily against him. Orm clutches his hips, and his sac thickens, surges, till it's the size of his fist inside him, and Arthur's rim's pulled tight around his much narrower base.
It wouldn't feel like this if Arthur were Orvax's son as well as Atlanna's. His hole would be accommodating, not so tight it makes Orm tremble with the pleasure of it. Arthur's not like him. But then Orm feels it, with the sensitive scales at the tip of his cock, and he almost fills him with his come right then and there. He feels it, he thinks, and he almost can't believe it. It shouldn't be there at all and it's deep in him, really deep in him, but when he leans forward and pushes Arthur down and bears into him, what he feels confirms it. It's thrilling. It thrills him. It makes his own thighs feel weak with the possibility. One last deep thrust and Orm's cock pushes into it, into the cavity he's sure even Arthur doesn't know is there, and Arthur seizes around him, but all that does is make Orm's head swim. He feels it, in himself his sac tightening inside, the pleasure of it radiating, making him shift his hips even though he's stuck so tight inside Arthur's not-quite-so-human ass. He could do it, he thinks, and as soon as he's had the thought, before he can decide, his body decides for him.
His sac pulses. His semen sweeps the eggs out of him in a dizzy rush, and he comes, and he comes, filling Arthur up. He comes in waves, making him moan, making him tremble, pleasure rippling through him like he's never had before. It goes on, over and over, and he bucks against him, and Arthur pushes back, trying to take him even deeper, just a little, just a fraction more. He spills and spills till his sac is empty, completely empty, not one more drop left, and it shrinks down so Orm can ease it out. His cock slips after it, soft and spent, and he watches as a little of his semen escapes with it. He doesn't want that, he realises. Atlanteans wouldn't have that problem, not by design, but of course Arthur isn't that, so Orm thinks quickly - he fetches his dagger and holding it by its smooth sheath he pushes its hilt into Arthur's waiting hole. He leaves it there. He'll come back when he's found something a little more...discreet, but for now he leaves the shell-sheathed blade protruding, and the hilt pushed in.
Then, he stands. Then, he floats around in front of him, ducking the chains that keep him bound. Orm's cock is sock and his sac is small, but Arthur's cock is still erect and Orm wonders, as he looks down at him, as Arthur looks up in return with his eyes heavy-lidded from venom and arousal... Orm wonders if Arthur has eggs to give up, too. Atlantean semen is inert now, and eggs their only means of procreation. And Orm wonders in a flight of racing, sickening fantasy if Arthur's physiology can incubate their spawn. If not, he wonders if he could take Arthur's. He's never thought about it quite like that before - after all, that's usually the consort's place - but his cock gives an interested twitch at the thought of his brother's cock inside him. His brother's scaleless human sac. His brother's eggs. He should be disgusted, but instead he's thrilled.
When he opens the box, the creature disengages from its spot at Arthur's throat and swirls away back to its place. The venom will wear off quickly but for now, Orm kneels in front of him; when he kisses Arthur's mouth, he has neither the strength nor the will to resist. And Orm runs his hands down from the golden collar at his brother's throat, over his chest, to the exaggerated curve of his belly, evidence if he needed it of how full up Arthur is with come and spawn. When he presses a little, Arthur groans. When he wraps one fist around his cock, he shivers. And it doesn't take long - a few firm strokes and Arthur comes in thick streaks in the water that the palace filters will soon extract.
Orm stands. He floats up. He looks down at his big brother there in his golden chains, down on his knees. And maybe he's not Atlantean, not really, not truly or fully, but Orm thinks maybe he could be close enough.