Chapter 2
Nerion
“Oh fuck…” the hairy man beneath me groaned. I had him bent over one of the old drafting tables in the storage room, my cock buried deep inside him. “Goddamn…”
“You love that cock, don’t you?” I growled back, loving how his fat ass bounced each time I thrust inside him.
Even in his human form, the Yeti was easily a foot taller than me and a hundred pounds heavier, which was perfect.
I loved fucking guys bigger than me. “I’m gonna make sure you feel me every time you sit down for the next week. ”
“Fuck yes!” he begged, pushing back against me. “Destroy that hole, Nerion!”
The begging… gods I loved the begging.
I gripped his hips harder, my nails digging into his flesh as I pounded into him relentlessly.
The storage room smelled of paint thinner and lust, the perfect backdrop for what was supposed to be a quick fuck between classes.
We’d been at it for nearly twenty minutes now, and I was determined to make it memorable.
“You take cock well for such a buff guy,” I whispered, leaning forward to run my tongue along his spine. His skin tasted salty with sweat, and I could feel him shudder beneath me. “You’re just a big slutty bottom, aren’t you?”
The drafting table creaked dangerously with each thrust, but I didn’t slow down.
If anything, the possibility of breaking school property just added to the thrill.
The Yeti, I didn’t know his name, had cornered me after my ceramics course where he was the teacher’s aide, his eyes hungry as they followed me into the supply closet.
It hadn’t taken much convincing. It never did.
“I’m gonna cum,” he moaned, his voice muffled as he bit down on his forearm to keep from shouting. Even in the art building after hours, we couldn’t risk being too loud. Students were working in their studios at nearly all hours of the day.
“Not yet,” I commanded, wrapping my fingers around his thick, short cock and squeezing the base. “Not until I say so.”
His whole body tensed, and I felt his inner walls clench around me.
Gods, it felt incredible. The control, the power of reducing someone so much larger than me to a quivering mess…
it was intoxicating. And the best part? He hadn’t heard me sing.
So this wasn’t magic. It was just plain fucking chemistry.
I angled my hips, hitting that spot inside him that made his legs tremble. “Now,” I finally said, releasing my grip on his cock. “Cum for me.”
The Yeti roared into his arm as his release spilled over my hand and onto the dusty floor below. His pleasure triggered my own, and I buried myself to the hilt as I filled the condom, my vision blurring around the edges as waves of ecstasy crashed through me.
For a few moments, we stayed frozen in position, both catching our breath. Then I pulled out slowly, careful with the condom. The last thing I needed was to leave evidence of our encounter for some poor freshman to find during their cleaning route.
“Holy shit,” he panted, turning around and leaning back against the table. His chest heaved as he watched me clean up and adjust my clothing. “That was... probably the best I’ve ever had.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t bad,” I agreed, tying off the condom and wrapping it in a paper towel before tossing it into the trash can. I pushed my red hair back from my forehead, feeling the cool air of the storage room against my heated skin.
My bottom pulled up his pants, still breathing heavily. His eyes never left me as I buttoned my shirt. “So, when can we do this again?”
And there it was. The question I always dreaded. I glanced at him as I fastened my belt. He was attractive enough, with his broad shoulders and rugged features. Good to fuck, too. But I could already see that look in his eyes, that dangerous hint of something beyond physical attraction.
“Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime,” I said casually, reaching for my messenger bag. “If we do, who knows?”
His face fell slightly. “That’s it? Just a maybe?”
I sighed, pulling my bag over my shoulder. “Look, that was fun. Really fun. But I don’t do relationships or regular hookups. It just complicates things.”
“We could just keep it casual,” he pressed, taking a step toward me. “No strings attached.”
I’d heard that before. There were always strings, eventually. Whether they were emotional or magical, they’d end up tying me down if I wasn’t careful.
“I don’t think you understand what casual means,” I said, my voice cooler now. “This was sex. Good sex. But that’s all it was or ever will be.”
“Is there someone else?” he asked, frowning. “Do you already have a boyfriend?”
I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. “No. And that’s the way I like it.”
I headed for the door, eager to escape the suddenly stifling room. I didn’t need to look back to know he was watching me, probably with that hurt expression all people got when they realized I meant exactly what I said.
“What are you so afraid of?” he called after me.
I paused at the doorway, my hand on the knob. For a brief moment, I considered telling him the truth about what I was, about the curse that haunted my kind. About how loving me could quite literally be the death of me.
Instead, I glanced over my shoulder with a practiced smirk. “Who said anything about being afraid? I just prefer my freedom.”
Before he could respond, I slipped out the door and into the dimly lit hallway of the art building. The evening air felt cool against my face as I pushed through the exit doors, my footsteps echoing in the empty corridor.
Outside, the evening chill sent a shiver down my spine. Or maybe it was the Yeti’s parting words still echoing in my head. What was I afraid of? Everything. Nothing. Whatever.
I pulled my jacket tighter around me as I crossed the courtyard.
The art building was on the far edge of campus, which meant a long walk back to the cafeteria.
The sun was already setting, painting the sky in vivid oranges and purples that reminded me of one of my recent paintings.
I’d been working on a series of stormy seascapes, trying to capture that moment just before a tempest breaks.
Professor Aurelia had praised the technique but questioned the “emotional distance” in my work.
Whatever the hell that meant. I was pretty sure she just wanted me to paint portraits or flowers like every other art student who was only there to get away from their parents.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Between classes and my impromptu storage room fuck, I’d worked up quite an appetite. The cafeteria would be crowded this time of evening, but I didn’t have much choice unless I wanted to go hungry.
“Nerion! Wait up!”
I turned to see a familiar figure jogging toward me. Linden’s tall frame moved with the grace of someone completely at ease in his body, something I only felt when I was in water. His dark green hair bounced with each step, and his easy smile was already in place before he reached me.
“Hey,” he said, falling into step beside me. “Where’ve you been? I looked for you after your ceramics class.”
“I had to ask the professor some questions about an upcoming project,” I lied smoothly. Linden was my best friend, but he didn’t need a play-by-play of everything I did.
Linden nodded, completely buying it. That was the thing about Linden. He never assumed people were lying. It made him both refreshingly genuine and hopelessly na?ve. But then again, for a Dryad that had grown up in a forest alone caring for the trees, I couldn’t expect much else.
“You heading to dinner?” he asked, his long legs easily matching my brisk pace.
“Yeah. Starving.”
“Same. Professor Willow had us practicing growth charms all afternoon. Do you know how much energy it takes to convince a sapling to grow three feet in ten minutes? I could eat a horse.”
I glanced at him with a smirk. “Please don’t. The cafeteria food is questionable enough without adding equine options.”
Linden laughed, the sound warm and rich like honey.
We’d been friends since freshman year when we’d been assigned as roommates.
Despite my best efforts to keep him at arm’s length, his relentless cheerfulness had worn me down.
Three years later, he was probably the closest thing I had to a best friend at Widdershins.
“Did you finish that landscape for Aurelia’s class?” he asked as we approached the dining hall.
“Almost. Just need to add some final touches to the storm clouds once the paint dries up a bit.” I hesitated before adding, “She said my work lacks emotional connection.”
Linden snorted. “That’s such bullshit. Your paintings are amazing. You capture the water like... like you’re part of it.”
“I mean… I am,” I said. Only a handful of people, including Linden, knew of my heritage. “It’s easy to capture the power of something you’ve seen a thousand times.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked, glancing over at me as his green skin shimmered in the sun. “The ocean?”
I shrugged. “I miss being in the water. But I don’t miss all the garbage and pollution.”
The cafeteria was bustling when we entered, filled with the chatter of students unwinding after classes. The scent of tonight’s special, some kind of pasta dish, wafted through the air, making my stomach growl even louder.
“Let’s grab that table by the window,” Linden said, pointing to a small, empty table in the corner. “The plant next to it needs to be watered.”
I nodded and followed him through the food line, loading my tray with pasta, garlic bread, and an apple. One benefit of fucking and sneaking into the school pool regularly was that I could eat whatever I wanted without worrying about my figure.
Once seated, Linden poured a glass of water into the nearby Ficus and then dove into his food with the enthusiasm of someone who’d been starving for days rather than hours.
I ate more slowly, watching the other students around us.
It was a habit I couldn’t break. I enjoyed observing, analyzing, and, of course, keeping my distance.
“Oh!” Linden said suddenly, his mouth still half-full of pasta. “Almost forgot to ask. Are you going to the Halloween party in a couple weeks?”
I raised an eyebrow. “The one at the quad? Where half the student body gets drunk on enchanted punch and makes terrible decisions? Pass.”
“Come on, Nerion. It’s our junior year! We should be having fun.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “I could make you an awesome mask. Something that would go with that whole mysterious vibe you’ve got going.”
“I don’t have a ‘vibe,’” I said, making air quotes with my fingers.
“You absolutely do. The brooding artist thing works for you.” He grinned. “Seriously though, I’ve been singing plants into shapes since I was a kid. I could make you a mask that would be the envy of everyone there.”
I stabbed at my pasta, considering it. Halloween was the one night when everyone wore masks, both literal and figurative. Maybe for once I could blend in rather than stand out with my too-pale skin, flame-red hair, and the scales that never quite disappeared from my skin.
“If—and that’s a big if—I agree to go, this mask better be spectacular,” I said finally. “It better be so spectacular that people gasp in shock, horror, surprise, or all three.”
Linden’s face lit up. “You won’t regret it! I’ll make something so amazing you’ll want to hang it on your wall afterward.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Don’t get too excited. I said, ‘if.’”
“Sure, sure,” he said, clearly already planning the design in his head. “But you’ll go. And who knows? Maybe you’ll actually have fun for once.”
Fun wasn’t really my concern. Fun was dangerous when you were a siren who could accidentally enchant someone with a single hummed note. Fun could lead to attachment, and attachment could lead to... well, my own destruction.
But instead of voicing all that, I just took a bite of my garlic bread, waving it dismissively through the air. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll even have fun.”