1 Silverfin and the Red Pirate King #2
The moon was high overhead when Silverfin found the Orca, sailing peacefully under a gentle breeze.
He'd come to recognize the shape of its keel over any other ship in the sea, and when its rippling shadow cut through the moonlight to sail along the sea floor he swam up eagerly.
The very thought of catching a glimpse of his handsome red-haired Pirate King sent a thrill through to the very tips of his fins.
Excitement and anticipation made him fast, speeding through the water and breaching the surface, arching above the waves and then diving beneath as he moved to catch up to the ship.
He slowed as he got closer - even in the dark of night, he dared not risk being seen by the watch - and took stock.
The king's cabin was brightly lit in the darkness, the great windows thrown wide.
He could make out the fine silhouette of the king's well-made body in the window, dark against the golden candlelight behind him.
But tonight, something was wrong. The strength had all but left the man's form.
Once-proud shoulders slumped as if dragged down by the weight of a whale.
His fingers were wrapped around the neck of a bottle instead of a sword, and, as Silverfin watched, they released it into the waves at the wake of the ship, swirling down into the undertow.
The bottle bobbed to the surface a few feet away from Silverfin, but he resisted the urge to swim after it. Ordinarily, the desire to taste the Pirate King's lips would be great, but tonight a sense of impending peril overtook him.
His senses were not incorrect. As he watched, his brave, fierce Pirate King lifted one of his lower limbs - "legs" - and placed it drunkenly up onto the window ledge. He paused for a moment, holding onto the window frame and looking out over the sea, the moonlight throwing his handsome features into harsh relief. There was such a look of despair on his face that Silverfin’s own heart broke a little.
After a moment of stillness that seemed to last forever, the Pirate King closed his eyes. Then, with the resignation of one going to the gallows, he leaned forward and toppled from his ship, disappearing into the foaming churn of the sea.
A sacrifice to the deep. Silverfin’s senses boiled. What a gift to the sea, what a prize for Mami Wata! The merfolk were used to such sacrifices, they treasured these gifts of biped flesh almost as much as they treasured gold. He ought to rejoice.
But no, not this. Not him.
Silverfin wasn’t very generous of heart, and the Red Pirate King was a prize he was not willing to share. Not even with Mami Wata herself.
He dove through the waves to where he'd seen the pirate disappear, recalling all too well how weak and pathetic bipeds became once they were under the surface of the water.
How long did he have before his handsome prize ceased to move, before his heart ceased to beat?
The wake of the ship made the water turbulent, bubbles obscuring his vision for precious seconds.
There. A flash of white in the darkness. The pale cloth the pirate wore stuck to his skin as he sank through the water, and as Silverfin sped towards him, he watched the man's lips part, giving up the last few bubbles of precious air.
No. No, this would not do at all.
Tail pumping frantically, he reached the drowning man, hauling him into his arms. He sealed their lips together, pushing air out of his own lungs and into the pirate’s.
New oxygen flooded in through his gills, but it wouldn't be enough to keep both of them alive - he'd have to take the pirate back to the surface, and risk discovery to keep him alive.
Swimming hard against the foaming water, he bore the weight of the Pirate King upwards, finally breaching and pulling the biped's head above water.
The boat was long gone by the time they surfaced, which posed another problem.
Certainly he could not keep a biped in the sea with him; his fragile, elastic skin was already beginning to resemble a wrinkly sea cucumber.
Even if he had been able to deposit him back on his ship, could Silverfin trust the man not to simply fall overboard again?
Land for now, he decided. He pressed his lips to the corner of the unconscious pirate's mouth, just to make sure he was breathing on his own, of course.
Then he wrapped his arms around his waist from behind, keeping him securely out of the water as he began to propel the man towards safety.
A Mer always knew where he was going; Silver could read the ripples and currents of the water as easily as breathing, feeling in his core where the waves crashed upon the shore.
He started towards the nearest landmass with powerful kicks of his tail.
The man's weight lay heavy and limp in his grip.
For so long Silverfin had wondered what it would be like to hold the Pirate King in his arms like that, to be able to inhale his scent, to taste his sun-beaten skin.
But now that he had the man at his disposal, a wave of confusion overcame him and robbed him in his moment of triumph.
What was he to do with the pirate once they reached land?
He could not very well beach himself, like some inopportune whale in his attempts to drag the biped back to shore.
Merfolk had strong arms and wide shoulders, of course, as one would expect when you spend all your life traversing the waters.
Silverfin could easily pull himself up the outside of a ship, so surely he could push the pirate up and onto the closest dock just as easily.
Port Royal slept when they reached it, as bipeds did, preferring daytime to the nocturnal hours.
There was no one around to see them as Silverfin took a cautious lap under a boardwalk.
Then he pushed the Pirate King up and over on the other side, placing his dripping form onto the boards before pulling himself up after him to perch on the side.
It wouldn’t hurt just to stay a few moments longer, would it? It was only to make sure his precious cargo was alive (if not well - Silverfin suspected there was something amiss with the man to have thrown himself to the waves in such a careless fashion).
Did he still breathe? Silverfin traced the contours of the man’s face with his fingers, lingering around the scratchy beard and the surprisingly soft lips. Yes, yes, there was air coming out of his mouth.
The man turned and coughed, sending Silverfin into the water and under the boardwalk again. But he couldn't leave. Carefully, he crept back up to the surface, craning his head and coming face to face with the pirate as he sprawled at the edge of the board, eyes open, staring at him.
Silverfin's heart caught in his throat.
“Lucas,” the man muttered, his gaze unfocused, his voice hollow. It sounded the way that the ocean sounds inside a conch when you press it to your ear: so enticing, yet so far away.
"My Lucas," he sighed again. Undoubtedly one of the strange names that bipeds had, and undoubtedly someone who was very dear to his handsome pirate. A beautiful maid? A handsome man? Someone dear. And perhaps, from the despair at its uttering, someone who was no longer.
That, certainly, would be a reason to give oneself to the sea.
“Forgive me, Lucas,” the pirate whispered, so close to Silverfin’s own lips that he could almost taste the sorrow on the man’s breath. “You saved me for nothing. You died for nothing. I am nothing.”
Silverfin opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.
He could speak the pirate's language well; he and his brothers and sisters had always prided themselves on picking up the language of the local lands with their constantly shifting settlements, and Silverfin was better at tongues than most of his siblings.
But to speak might reveal himself too much.
It might reveal his feelings too much.
A cold hand clutched at his wrist. Along with the sorrow, Silverfin could also smell the telltale scent of rum on the pirate’s breath. There was a good chance he would not remember any of this come morning. Relief and disappointment warred equally inside Silverfin at the realization.
But how could he bear to leave knowing his Pirate thought so little of himself?
“You are far from nothing,” he dared to whisper back. “You are so much, and everything I desire.”
The man’s eyes seemed to focus momentarily, searching Silverfin's gaze in the moonlight. His lips parted in confusion.
Silverfin knew there wasn’t much time; he had to act quickly. He had no illusions about what he was: he had always been a thief. He had stolen this prize from Mami Wata, and now, he was also going to steal a kiss.
He pressed his lips to the Pirate King’s own, soft and warm. Under his questing lips, the Pirate King's mouth opened, sweet with rum under the salt of the sea. He responded to Silverfin's clumsy caress with a soft, needy noise, tongue brushing against Silverfin's, hot and eager.
His mouth was so hot and sweet and good, a searing heat that spread through Silverfin like he'd found a thermal vent.
The heat left a strange, unexpected ache in its wake, left him yearning to press closer.
He'd been leaning over the side of the boardwalk, but he couldn't stop himself from hoisting his body up onto it again, pressing closer.
Arching against the Pirate King's strong body, he stroked his chest eagerly through the water-logged shirt, relishing the surge and flex of his muscles.
A soft groan, and the Pirate was surging closer to him. Clutching for him, pulling Silverfin closer. Did he feel that same aching need in his core? His touch was as hot as his lips, stroking hungrily over Silverfin's flanks, then down his back and over his ass.
"Wha..." the man mumbled against his mouth, hand tightening on his ass. On his scales, Silverfin realized, and jerked back in a rush of panic.
Then, before the drunken biped could fully come to his senses, he dove back underneath the docks and swam out to sea.