Chapter 10
Beneath the cold black waters, deep in the trench at the bottom of the noxious Black Sea, Nyx could finally breathe.
His reef was thriving, pumping oxygenated water into the most poisonous layer of his new kingdom, while the pressure of the deep wrapped around him in a frigid, blissful embrace.
Saltwater poured through his gills in great, gasping pulls, chasing the last sting of surface air from his ravaged lungs.
Flexing his tail with a hiss, he let his spines drag through the silt where he was coiled in the shadows. Gills flaring wide and bloody as the last of the surface’s stink was purged from his senses.
Except for her.
She lingered in every salty breath. The taste of that gushing cunt was sweet where it clung to his palate.
He’d feasted, but each taste had only made him more ravenous.
Unfulfilled, despite the way her dainty little belly had bulged around the sheer volume he’d dumped inside that precious womb.
And the way her tiny human slit had rejoiced? Gushing as he’d forced her to open, milking him with greedy, sucking pulls?
He shuddered in the cool, blissful dark.
Perfection.
Thick and bloated, his cock lurched at the memory. Interest piqued, it snaked free of his slit. Already drooling in the cooling waters. Unsatisfied, for he’d been cut off—denied before she could be bred properly.
Before he could plant his knot behind her pelvic shelf and rut her for hours as they drifted through the currents that answered only to him.
Nyx flashed the edge of pointed, deadly teeth.
She was… human. Fragile. Pathetic. Weak and delicate.
And yet, she’d taken almost all of it. Her dainty pussy—smattered in sparse, brown hair instead of scales—had stretched to accommodate what he’d forced her to take.
But he’d stopped short of knotting her.
Torn himself from that silky grip before he could ruin her.
It was agony.
Sperm belched from his slit, sending silky ribbons snaking into the frigid black.
He’d been forced to leave her there. Drenched in brine, ruined, unconscious, and gaping wide open. Her womb flooded, her body half-claimed. Rosy cheeks of a plump, upturned bottom, hers was a chalice filled to overflowing. A foamy mess bubbling and frothing down her thighs.
But the lock that would bind them? The anchor of flesh that would entwine her soul to the sea remained uncast. Denied by the limits of her disgusting humanity.
She was too soft. Too fragile.
And he… he couldn’t tolerate hours above the surface—the bloody red mist curling about him in the trench was proof enough of that.
So there’d been no other choice.
He’d fought the urge to knot her until the very end—until his lungs burned, his gills bled, his mind blurring as the poisonous surface air nearly suffocated the life from his chest. Until he’d felt it bloom.
His knot.
Swelling at his base, already forming inside that tight human sheath.
It was a splash of cold terror. Simply a matter of instinct—to set an anchor and seal his seed inside before the ocean might wash it away. As he would with any female of his kind. A Virelii.
But this female was not of his kin. Her body not meant to handle what he was driven to do to her.
What he was going to do inside her.
Not yet.
No, this time, with this bride, he’d be deliberate. Careful. Each drop of venom measured before it was pumped into her veins. Applied with dedicated intention as he guided her through the coming shift from pathetic to glorious.
Tongue snaking out, Nyx tasted the darkness. Lips twitching in something that might have been mistaken for a smile.
But wasn’t.
For it wouldn’t be long. Not long before he might watch her molt that revolting human weakness, and then?
Oh, then he’d drag her beneath the waves and knot her so violently the seven kingdoms would know that Nyxarion Korrides, last of the Abyssari-born kings, exiled to the Black Sea, had claimed a female.
One fit to rule the anoxic ocean as his consort.
His bride. One he’d made to suit an environment none of the Pelagorn had ever been able to conquer.
Not quite a Virelii.
Not a woman.
She’d be both.
A Siren.
But she wasn’t ready.
Not yet.
Claws flexing against the sea floor, he willed his cock to retract. Straining to ignore the agony of a knot denied, he tried to force it back into his vent, behind the protective scales guarding his genital slit.
As if in defiance, a ribbon of seed gushed from his tip, for he could still feel her. Her tight heat fluttering around his girth, the way she’d writhed beneath him. Fighting until her cries had bled into soft mewls of surrender. Crooning as he’d pumped her full of seed…
She’d taken him so well.
Come for him when he filled her.
And he’d abandoned her.
Hissing, fins flaring, he scowled at the surface twinkling in the distance and took his cock in a deadly fist. Stroking it as he glared at that hated, burning light.
He needed time to recover. Time for his lungs to heal from the putrid rot above, so he could return with a vengeance. He needed to feed the reef, to let the polyps drink from his venom glands and feast on his blood to ensure it was bound to his will.
He didn’t have time to return.
There was work to be done to prepare for his bride…
Knot pulsing in his palm, Nyx snarled. A dull throb of frustration that could only be satisfied inside a pussy gushing slick.
Tail flicking, the barbs in his fins trailed through the silt.
What would it hurt? To return before he was ready. To let the reef hunger for just a little longer. He couldn’t drag her from that cave, plunge her fragile human body into the surf, and force his knot back inside—not yet—but she could take just a little more…
Gills flaring wide, a jet of milky seed drifted through the current.
He reacted.
Body coiled, he launched off the sea floor with a violent flick of his tail.
Leaving the trench that was now free of the killing, anoxic waters that had defined the Black Sea for millennia, he cut through the silt with a wild, desperate grace.
He drove toward the surface, breath a steady, controlled exhale.
Through the corrosive layer rich with bacterial decay, through the death-threshold where warm met cold, and very little survived.
He shut his second lids and surged through the salinity sheets with a single thought in mind.
Her.
Chasing her scent.
Blind to reason, to the very real threat of his own looming death, he rose. Breaking the surface, his massive body crashed against the rocks. Soggy air searing his tender gills, he flashed pointed teeth as the sea’s buoyancy abandoned him once more. His every movement a violent, deliberate act.
The tide was low. His timing poor. The path to his bride rocky and cruel, resistant to his tricks. Unforgiving. His coils scraped stone, spines catching on jagged rock.
He loathed it.
The light. His own colossal weight. The pain of unfiltered air ripping through his gills.
But her scent.
It screamed for him.
And so he persisted.
Dragging his bulk forward, the image of a tiny human pussy glazed with his cum was a beacon he couldn’t ignore or resist.
The cave was as he left it.
Tide low, dank and dark and desolate.
And her.
A tiny slip of a thing dressed in rags. Collapsed on her left side, her cunt on lewd display. Every inch of her skin bathed in bruises and etched in venom—he could see his mark, just there, pulsing beneath her skin. Coursing through her veins. A glow her pathetic human eyes couldn’t perceive.
Not yet.
And her belly.
His breath caught.
It was swollen and grotesque. Bulging around the copious seed he’d pumped inside.
She hadn’t spilled a drop.
Snaking closer, Nyx hefted his bulk across the damp stone. Fascinated by the implication. That she could hold so much in such a small body, the greedy little thing.
Realization struck him, then.
There was a difference. Between this bride and the last.
His first had been kept in the warm waters of a secluded lagoon, on the coast of the Aegean Sea. Every drop he’d given her washed away before his mark could sink in.
But this girl.
In keeping her dry, he’d stumbled into success. The air reacted with his cream, clotting and growing solid.
A thick plug.
Seed that had gone from liquid to gel had hardened inside her without the sea to wash it away. What had once gushed from him in torrents had grown thick and unyielding. A barrier so she might cling to the stamp of ownership she had yet to truly earn.
Something possessive rumbled in his chest, then. Something starving for more.
She twitched at the sounds rumbling from his barrel chest, but that was all.
Claws clattering over stone, he ached to touch. To possess. To finish what he’d started and replace that blockage of solidified cum with his knot.
Tracing the flare of her hip, careful not to break delicate skin, he marvelled at the hint of elegant blue lines. Veins flush with venom, glowing from within with his stain.
Looming, cut from obsidian and salt, Nyx blinked at his captive. His ward. Ignoring the burn of air in his lungs, for the sight before him was one to eclipse all discomfort.
Beautiful.
But he hadn’t come to merely look.
Careful, he peeled gooey petals apart and twisted one clawed finger inside tender walls. Catching the plug of solidified seed on that pointed, vicious hook, he tugged it free with deliberate, tiny movements.
A faint sound slipped from her lips, but that was all. Even as the cum gushed from her depths, she was still. Pliant. Ready to be bred once more.
Gripping his cock in a fist that commanded obedience, Nyx fed that bloated length through the sopping mess and set his crown to her entrance.
He waited. Just for a moment. Just long enough to admire the way swollen lips yawned wide enough to swallow his tip. A preverse thrill made his spines flare when his seed bubbled at her seam, making her slick and gooey.
Pressing his weight into her, he took. Flexing to send his cock through the mess, Nyx crammed his girth through a tight band of muscle.
Bliss.
She parted for him with a sigh. Welcoming, impossibly soft—tight—she gripped him like she’d been made to take him. And still, she did not wake.
She merely spasmed around him. Unconscious as a helpless orgasm wracked her tiny body while she lay pliant beneath him.
Grunting, Nyx shivered at such a welcome.
It was a marvel to see such a thing. Fragile, bloodless lips stretched white around his girth. Accommodating his invasion, even now. Without conscious thought.
She fluttered in welcome. Arched when he struck her end, and clenched as he bore down, seeking to penetrate her womb and pump his spawn inside.
Claws bracketing her hips, he worked her over his shaft, driving into her with punishing force just to see if he could wake her from her stupor.
But her eyes merely rolled white.
Low, ragged grunts of pleasure echoed with the wet slap of scales on skin. Her legs twitching with every merciless thrust he shoved inside.
A riptide boiled in his balls. Climax rising in a violent surge, he fucked what he’d claimed and let it take him.
Take them both.
Nyx snarled as he came, balls flexing as he dumped every ounce of wrath and frustration into her body. His hatred toward her kind. The rage of injustice for what had been done to him. And the hope for what she would become.
All of it.
His massive body collapsed atop hers, cock wriggling where her womb tried to deny what was already his. Barbing out, a spigot lanced from his tip and forced her cervix to widen as if she were one of his kind. A Virelii female meant to handle a Pelagorn male in all his glory.
But she was human.
Still…
Fins shivering in full flare, Nyx pulsed inside her, unloading thick ropes of sperm. Making her bulge once more—he felt it happen. Snaked one hand beneath her to hold her belly as it grew swollen and taut. Skin stretching to accommodate the obscene volume pouring from his balls.
Nyx rumbled, crooning for her. His bride.
Dizzy with the rush of release, he tugged free of that blissful, silken grip before his knot could ruin her. Taking his cock in a clawed fist, the other hand still cupping a belly ripe with his cum, he pumped the last ropes of seed across her upturned bottom.
Marvelling at the lash of pearly seed that splattered across rosy skin, for even as he watched, it changed.
Reacting with the hated surface air, his cum hardened into a gelatinous rope.
And he grinned.
This one would survive.
Undone by her own nature, her own inability to survive beneath the waves, where his sperm might be washed away. Instead, she’d be exposed to his toxin, even while he was forced to retreat, lurking in the trench until he’d recovered enough to fuck her to overflowing once more.
Panting, gills straining, he stayed long enough to watch the plug form inside her. Long enough to ensure that she wouldn’t waste a single drop, until the urge to breed her was overcast by burning lungs and ravaged gills.
For now, she was full. Stuffed.
Claimed.
His bride would wake alone, yes, but she wouldn’t be without him.
And the next time he broke the surface?
He’d come with the tide.
And nothing would hold him back…