Chapter Eleven
“This is where you’ll age first. You’ll get a wrinkle here, in
these sun creases by your eyes. You’ll still be beautiful—you’ll
just look like a tiger with salt drying in your stripes, but it’s a
shame. They never last.”
Absurd
of Priddy, to mind about his predecessors. “How many of them have
there been?”
“A lot. But only ever one at a time.”
Merou
had chosen the bottom bunk. Priddy was still not quite sure of the
significance of this. The space was cramped and warm, a tangled
nest. Outside the wind was rising, sleety rain lashing the windows.
Geoff’s clothes and Priddy’s lay in a heap on the floor. Daylight
hours and entwined limbs, a shared mug of tea on the bedside
table... Too prosaic a setting for Merou, surely, but he’d crawled
in eagerly, and although his cock was hard, all he’d wanted to do
so far was prop himself on one elbow and examine Priddy’s face.
“I’m all right, you know,” Priddy said softly. “Were they all like
me, then—primates? Landlings?”
“Don’t you already know? Your mind’s full of our legends. You
were like a beacon to me the other night, brighter than your
lighthouse, calling me in.”
“Well, I know... Let’s see. There’s the mermaid who took the
young man, but that was because she loved his singing voice. And
another—several of these, actually—who married poor fishermen, and
brought them great wealth, as long as their husbands never struck
them or called them a harsh name. But of course they always did,
and then the mermaid wives would disappear...”
“Along with all their gems and gold, leaving the foolish
mortals poorer than before.” Merou nodded. “That’s the doom of our
womenfolk, or at any rate a tremendous bet they used to have
amongst themselves, that none of them would ever find a man amongst
your kind who could keep his hands to himself and a civil tongue in
his head.”
“They used to?”
“Not anymore. Either landling men are changing, or the message
is getting home. Mermaids don’t like to lose their
bets.”
“What happens when they do?”
“They make their transformation for the last time, and live on
land with the mortal they’ve chosen. Get old and die with
him.”
“And what about you? Are you... doomed, too?”
“Well, it’s not exactly a doom. I’ve enjoyed it, rather. But
the mermen go the opposite way, and they search all their lives for
a mortal who’ll cast off their human skin for them, and join them
in the ocean.”
You found him. I’m here. I’ll do it. Priddy bit it all back, even though Merou’s eyes had
brightened with tears. Merou might have called him
love, and taken him to
Lyonesse, but that was no guarantee he wanted him any other way
than clad in human skin. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. The mortal doesn’t get to choose, and nor does
the Mer. One day—one full-moon night, rather, when nothing makes
sense except love—the change comes over the landling like a
sweeping tide, and he grows his tail in great pain and suffering,
and then he can’t ever return. And I never wished to lay such a
fate on any of the beautiful lads who’ve been my
companions.”
“How can you stop it? Haven’t any of them just loved you enough
that they’d rather grow their tail and take their
chances?”
“I’ve never let things go that far. It takes a long time for
that kind of bond to form—usually, anyway—and I’ve made sure I’m
long gone before it does. It’s better that way.” Regretfully he
stroked Priddy’s cheek again, the place where his tiger stripes
would appear. “I often think the mermaids have the better deal. I’d
take my chances with two legs and mortality, if I
could.”
Two faces in the mirror, ageing at the same time.
Two sets of stripes. Priddy brushed his palm across the unmarred perfection of
Merou’s brow. “I wish you could, too,” he said hoarsely, because
the sugar lump in his throat had turned to gravel. “If you ever
found someone you wanted to get old and wrinkly with, I
mean.”
“Ah, Priddy. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
“You haven’t.” He pushed the sorrow down. If this was going to
be a short visit, he wanted to make the most of it. “Now that I
know all about your mating habits and your doom, I have to ask you
a very personal question from Kit, who’s wanted to know since he
was five years old. Can mermaids go to the loo?”
It worked. Merou looked momentarily disconcerted, then started
laughing. “That is a five-year-old’s question. We don’t have to. We have a
perfectly balanced metabolic system that uses every part of what we
consume, bones and all, so there’s nothing to excrete.”
“He’ll love that. Am I allowed to tell him?”
“As long as you make it part of one of your
stories.”
“And what about while you’re on land?”
“Oh, on land we’re just the same as you. Inconvenient
sometimes—in other ways, very nice.”
Priddy was interested in the other
ways. He considered Merou’s words, cradling
the neat, silky-skinned backside in his hands. “Just
exactly the same as
us?”
“Mm-hm. Every little hair and hole. I even have my belly button
back again. Go ahead and check it out if you like.”
“What, the belly button, or...”
“No, my beautiful king of the mountains. Not that.”
Priddy
ran his thumb into the velvety crease of Merou’s backside. “Are you
asking me to fuck you?”
“In every possible way other than sending a telegram or a
carrier pigeon, yes.”
“Sorry. Don’t mean to be slow on the uptake.”
“What’s wrong? Do you prefer your lovers to stick with the top
bunk?”
“Tell you the truth, I’ve rarely got to the bunk stage at all.
If I do it to you, it won’t be...”
“What?
“Well—lovely,
like the way it was when you did me.”
Merou
cupped his face, kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure it
will.”
“I hope so. I’ll try to make it that way. But it won’t be
weightlessness, and swaying fronds, and little floaty
lights.”
“Will it be sweaty and grunty, and a bit uncomfortable because
I haven’t had it that way in a while? Will you fall asleep on me
the second you’re done and spend the night drooling in my
ear?”
“Oh, God, I hope not the last bit. The rest of it—probably,
yeah.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Merou spread his thighs to allow access to
Priddy’s exploring hand. “Come on, my handsome. The moon’s still
full, and that makes me more prone to change. Better take the
arsehole while it’s there.”
Priddy
chuckled. “How romantic. I’m not taking anything until I find a
rubber and some KY.” He put a finger to Merou’s lips to silence his
protest. “I know, I know. You’re immune to all our human diseases,
and that’s grand. But you look pretty human yourself right now, and
I haven’t been too careful lately, so I’m not taking any chances
with you.”
He
extricated himself from the bed, dodging Merou’s restraining grab.
Times had been so lean with him lately that he hoped he could come
through on the promised equipment. He didn’t think running down and
asking Kit and Geoff for a loan would go over too well. To his
relief he found a packet of condoms at the bottom of the holdall
he’d brought here three months ago and never properly unpacked. No
lubricant, but... “Will Swiss Formula do?”
“What is that? Some kind of cheese?”
“No, you dolt. A heavy-duty hand cream for outdoor work. Not
tested on animals, fragrance-free.”
“I’m sure it’ll do beautifully. Please just stop fussing and
come back to bed.”
Priddy
scrambled back in. He was shaking with cold and the excitement of
sharing close quarters with this man, the dizzy prospect of loving
him. The last time he’d tried this, the boy he’d been with had
helplessly climaxed at the push of Priddy’s cock between his
thighs, and Priddy had been no better, losing control an instant
later. How was he supposed to deal with Merou—the ultimate in
sophisticated older men, veteran of God only knew how many expert
assaults on his beautiful arse...?
“Priddy, let me tell you something.” Merou sounded strained, as
if he too was nervous, or putting up a battle for control. His cock
was a handsome, distinct shape beneath the blanket. “I’m the
domineering sort. Most of my kind are, when we’re on land with you
lot. But even by Mer standards, I’m a top-bunk kind of guy. So you
don’t have much competition, and if I’m letting you do this—asking
you—you’d better believe I’m hot for you. Okay?”
“Okay,” Priddy whispered. “Do you want to be on your back,
or...”
“I’m taking orders, not giving them. Just get in here with your
rubbers and your Swiss cheese or whatever it is you have there, and
remind me what it’s like to get fucked.”
So much
for not giving orders. But the stark little flurry of them had been
just what Priddy needed: his hesitation vanished, desire burning up
into a strong, bright flame. He took Merou by the hip: rolled him
over in the narrow bed. Watched Merou’s fist tighten on the blanket
while he unwrapped the condom and put it on. Watched a little
longer, enjoying the fretful rub of the dark head against the
pillow...
“Landling, are you making me wait?”
“I was, a little.” Priddy covered his fingers with the cream
and rubbed Merou slick with it, making him moan and spread his
thighs. “Not anymore.”
He
pushed in deeply on the first thrust. Merou let go a long breath,
just the ghost of a wail in it, and grabbed for the end of the
bunk. “Ah, God. Those things have improved.”
“Cocks?”
“Condoms. They used to make them out of sheep’s intestines, you
know.”
“Don’t make me laugh. This is a big, serious, full-on fuck I’m
giving you.”
“Yes.” Merou writhed under him, pushed up to meet his next
stroke. “Yes, it is. Come on and give it. You feel so
good.”
The
storm was beginning in earnest. A buffet of wind hit the tower,
hard enough to rattle the windows and call a passive bellow from
the depths of the foghorn. Priddy hoped Kit and Geoff were snug in
their cottage, that noble-hearted Trewin and Dave had made it
safely home with their survivors. He wished everyone could have
what he was experiencing now: safe haven with someone they loved,