13. Keep Me, Sweetheart
Keep Me, Sweetheart
Sharp teeth pricked at her tongue and Marlowe’s hand splayed over its gills.
She hungrily swallowed up the low, guttural sound Pike made from deep in its chest and nipped at its lips as she drew back.
Her teeth scraped across Pike’s neck, licking up rivulets of lake water and her tongue feathered across the soft, quivering flesh of its gills.
Pike hissed, tail undulating, neck craning to the side and giving Marlowe more space. Fleshy hands pawed at her top and Marlowe reared back, ripping away her shirt and shucking off her shorts, each twist and scream of her beaten body sending raw spikes of pleasure through her gut.
Plunging her tongue back into their gills drew another rattling sound from Pike, and they clawed her closer. Gray tendrils nipped at her as Marlowe sank her hand into knots of pondweed and down to the other side of their neck, stroking each fluttering gill-slit.
Pike hissed, open-mouthed, and instinctively Marlowe’s hand moved. A quiet hush ghosted from her lips. Only sharp points against her palm reminded her.
Marlowe drew back.
Round gold eyes peering over her hand seemed almost amused. Marlowe smiled and stroked her thumb across the underside of her jaw. “Take a lot more than that to rattle you?” Pike’s answering huff told her she was right. “Good.”
Marlowe shifted her weight, leaving one more sucking kiss on her flared gills before she straddled Pike.
Their soft, mottled skin was flame-hot to her aching cunt.
Guiding their hands to her waist, warmth flushed through Marlowe when their webbed hands dug in hard enough to leave bruises layered on top of ones she already had.
Let her leave bruises. Marlowe didn’t care if she was covered in marks and wounds and scars as long as they were from Pike.
Marlowe slipped down, thighs molding around Pike’s scales right where their own cunt pulsed and bulged, scales slippery with their own need.
They should be leaving. Catching the first fuck-no bus out of here before anyone realized Heather was gone.
Her dead eyes watched them, glazed over and barely visible in the moonlight.
Marlowe bared her teeth in a smile and rolled her hips, dragging her spread, dripping cunt across Pike’s scales.
She shuddered and curled in on herself at the feeling.
This time, Pike was there, gripping her waist, her hips. Steadying herself, Marlowe rutted against them like a bitch in heat—vicious and chasing flames curling in her cunt, stoking embers with each steady, crushing grind against scales.
Slick heat met slick heat and Marlowe sank deeper over its tail, finding the right position where every drag and jerk of her hips meant perfect pleasure. Pike watched her, and Marlowe caught a sliver of moonlight through the translucence of its jaw before it snapped shut.
Another flush of pleasure rolled through Marlowe and she tipped her head back, panting as she rutted desperately, Pike’s scales under her, pressing, spreading her open, stroking just right, and then Pike’s hands dug into her hips and they twisted under her, tail bucking up, and Marlowe came hard with a hiss and strangled, erratic rolls of her hips.
Pike made a low humming sound in their chest and they thrust against Marlowe, the swell of their cunt rubbing flush with hers, again, again, again until she was spent, gaze blinking back into the dim light instead of flashes behind her eyelids.
Marlowe’s thighs went sticky against their tail and dirt and blood mingled with the mess. Pike moved under her, shifting forward, and if it wasn’t for the after-sex haze, Marlowe would have snapped at her for the overstimulating scale-drag.
She realized, with a sudden, odd feeling, Pike had taken hold of the oar handle still clamped between Heather’s teeth. The smooth handle pulled loose with a grating bone-on-wood rasp. Blood and saliva dripped in a ragged stream from the broken end, now dulled.
Marlowe watched, struck silent, as Pike fingered open the mottled scales of her cunt and fitted the uneven end to her slit.
Pike’s gills flared and a shudder rolled through her sinuous body, tail vibrating under Marlowe as she pressed the oar into herself.
Inch by inch, the worn handle disappeared, scales stretching and pulsing around the wood.
Only once a hand-length protruded from her did Pike stop, and Marlowe knew the bloodied end was seated neatly in the layered ring of teeth deep inside her cunt.
Her mouth went dry when the membrane of Pike’s eyes squeezed shut and her tail rolled against her hand, fucking herself so deliberately, so casually that a greedy warmth clawed at Marlowe’s stomach again.
Impulsively, Marlowe reached out, hand sliding over Pike’s knobby fingers. Their eyes snapped open with a feral, agitated gleam.
Marlowe’s thighs quivered as she kneeled, hovering over the place where their scales split around wood. Pike’s gills gaped and fluttered. Marlowe’s swollen flesh slipped against her hand when she eased onto the blunt, rounded end.
A hiss escaped her as she rocked her hips in shallow thrusts, stretching around the smooth wood. Pike’s hands found her waist, trailing, squeezing at her thighs then back at the curve of her hips, pleasured sounds huffing from her with each thrust, twisting the oar against her ring of cunt-teeth.
Marlowe’s cunt spasmed and pulsed and she sank down further, spreading her knees against the truck bed and gritting her teeth.
She sloppily rocked her hips, nails biting into Pike’s chest as she anchored her hands and fucked herself, knowing she’d be bruised, sore for a week, her own blood joining between them, but oh, this was worth it.
This pain Marlowe welcomed.
Pike tipped her head back, needle teeth bared, tendrils snapping around her face and pondweed strands splayed across the rusted truck box.
Webbed hands grew desperate, searching, urging Marlowe into a steady rhythm she pushed herself to keep, legs trembling as she drove the wood deeper between them, harder, aggressive, hips angled—
The wind left Marlowe’s lungs in a rush as she doubled over.
Pike hissed at the same time, thrusting into her once, twice, and Marlowe swore, stuttering into an intelligible moan, leaving bloody grooves across Pike’s chest as her cunt gushed over her tail, heartbeat slamming against her bruised ribs, her throat.
Marlowe thought she ground out her name, riding through her orgasm and chasing each jolt of pleasure with the graze of webbing against her swollen clit, but the night was hazy like her mind, and Pike’s tail thrashed under her like a frenzied snake, driving the oar deeper, deeper.
Marlowe pinned her down and spit into the feathery slits of Pike’s neck, thrusting her tongue into them, tasting herself and the lake and Pike until they came with a ragged, snapping snarl.
The high took as long to leave as Pike’s venom, in slow, easy washes of pleasure. Marlowe’s breathing finally evened. The wood stake clattered against metal after she carefully, nicely withdrew it from Pike and threw it to the side.
The emptiness settled moments after, bare skin stretched against the hard metal of her truck bed. Pike lay next to her, tail draping off the end, gill slits softly fluttering. Marlowe closed her hand over Pike’s and brought it to her lips, grazing over soft, mottled flesh tasting of fish and lake.
Heather stared at her from the other side of Pike. Marlowe reached across and brushed her eyelids shut. Marlowe just had one more promise to keep before this was finally over.