by Dessa Lux
Devon sat up, scowling. He’d just gotten back to their bed, he wanted to have sex in their bed.
Lir, who was lying at the edge of the mattress, gave him a mournful look. “I’m still feeling a little parched. Could we go out in the shallows? On the west side, maybe, Harry won’t hear us there and it’s leeward.”
Devon was pretty sure that it was physically impossible for Lir to still be feeling parched when they were in the middle of his domain, but as soon as Lir said it he realized how good it sounded, to be buoyant and wet instead of fighting for a comfortable position in the sheets. He nodded, and Lir sat up and kissed him again, softly and tenderly.
Devon reached for him, but Lir shook his head and kissed him again, and again, sweet little brushes of lips, the least light flicker of his tongue. They were sharing breath, barely touching, and Devon forgot all about being annoyed after a few minutes.
“That’s it,” Lir murmured. “Like that, but under the stars, with the waves to hold us, hm?”
Devon nodded, tipping his head up for another kiss, and this time, finally, Lir’s arms came around him, drawing him against Lir’s chest again. Lir carried him out of bed, out of the house, and Devon tipped his head back and watched the stars overhead as Lir carried him along the course of the stream that led to the western edge of the island.
Soon Lir’s footsteps were splashing, and they were in among the tall wetland grasses, the mangrove trees looming up ahead. Lir kept going, walking confidently though Devon was pretty sure the water was at least waist-deep here, and soon they were in among the spreading roots of the trees, which had grown taller while Devon was gone, spreading out new green branches. He breathed in the scent of them, the place where freshwater met salt and land met sea, the things that grew strongest at that border.
He ran his hand over his belly and thought, This will be your place, baby.
Then they reached the very edge, where ocean waves lapped right up to the roots of the mangroves. Lir lowered them into the water there, and Devon sighed relief as the salt water took his weight, wrapping him in a cool embrace. Now there was no question of how to fit his belly, or how to keep from being too heavy or too squashed. He let himself float, resting one hand against a mangrove root to steady himself, though he knew Lir wouldn’t let him go anywhere he didn’t want to go.
He had never imagined his wedding night quite like this, and he smiled over at Lir. “We’re mated now. Really mated. I know it was a formality, but... I’m glad.”
Lir curled an arm over him, floating beside him, and gave him another of those slow, sweet kisses. “It doesn’t quite count yet, though, does it? Not until we... consummate?”
Devon snorted softly against his mouth and ran a hand over his belly. “I think we did that in advance. Unless you mean a bite.”
Lir frowned a little at that. “Is that... for werewolves? Is that necessary?”
Devon shrugged in the water. “It’s traditional, it’s the old way. Now we have contracts, we’re civilized, but lots of people still like it. The mark and everything.”
He couldn’t help his heart speeding up a little as he said it. He’d toyed with that romantic fantasy, when he was younger. Lir had knotted him and claimed him in every way that mattered, gave him a child, signed the contract, but now that they were here, talking about it, he found that he wanted this, too.
Lir was still frowning, though he was also still holding Devon close. “When werewolves bite... like Harry said, that’s... that’s how you make a human into a werewolf, isn’t it?”
Devon nodded. “The mating bite isn’t that, it’s... symbolic, mostly. It only changes someone into—”
Devon realized what Lir was hesitating over, all of a sudden. Lir had had a mate once before. Lir had changed him.
“Oh,” Devon said. “If you bit me, it would...?”
Lir kissed him. “I... have some control over it. It’s not simple, not all or nothing. You could never become exactly like me, and I know you don’t want to be changed. I don’t want to change you, you’re perfect just as you are. But if I bit you like that, made you my mate like that, in blood and bone, it would change you, at least a little. It would have to.”
Devon’s heart beat still faster at that thought. “Oh. Um. Maybe... maybe we should just stick with the other kind of consummating, for now.”
Lir smiled. “Of course, sunlight. We have plenty of time for the other.”
Lir kissed him again, and again, until Devon forgot all about the discussion. He felt like there was nothing in the world but the drag of Lir’s mouth against his, the tantalizingly wet brush of skin on skin where they floated side-by-side.
But the sweetness quickly became a tease, as Devon was reminded how long it had been since he’d had his mate inside him. He felt himself getting hard, though his belly was big enough that he couldn’t see his dick anymore. He felt his hole getting hot and soft, too, an entirely different wetness from the cool wash of seawater between his legs.
“Lir,” he gasped, wriggling in the water. He didn’t know how to offer himself, like this. Even turning facedown would be tricky.
“I’ve got you,” Lir murmured, his hand drifting down to curl around Devon’s dick.
The water itself seemed to turn firm, almost solid, around him—nothing like ice, not sticky or intrusive like mud, but that cool grip around him was as steady as Lir’s. It was Lir, he realized, even if Lir still wore a perfectly human shape.
Devon let the water turn him onto his side, perfectly cradled and weightless. He let one leg fall down deeper into the water, raised the other higher, and the water supported him and held him. Lir’s hand was hot around his dick while the water rushed in where he’d spread himself, cool where Devon was getting hot.
He felt the tiniest of waves under the surface, a movement of water against his hole, lapping against his entrance as waves would at the island’s edge.
“Oh,” Devon moaned, rocking between Lir’s hand and that other touch, cool and uncannily firm.
“Let me,” Lir murmured. “Let me in, sunlight.”
Devon squirmed and let out something like a sob at the pleasure of his mate’s touch and his low, rasping voice. He felt himself relax just enough, and that cool press of water became a flow, or a thrust. Water entered him, still somehow firm and purposeful, pressing against his rim, riffling over sensitive places, filling him slowly but steadily.
“Oh,” Devon gasped. “Oh God, oh—Lir.”
“Mm-hm,” Lir agreed, stroking Devon’s cock, kissing the nape of Devon’s neck and his shoulder where it broke the surface. His other hand came up from underneath to stroke over Devon’s chest, teasing at the tight buds of his nipples. They had begun to swell recently, and they were so sensitive now that Devon cried out at the first touch, making a wild splash with one flailing arm.
But Lir’s arms stayed around him, and the water that filled him just kept moving inside, an impossible miniature tide, a storm inside that brought only pleasure. All too soon he felt the crest of pleasure approaching, and reached back, grabbing at Lir behind him. “I—Lir, I’m—”
“Good,” Lir murmured in his ear, his grip tightening on Devon’s cock as he plucked at Devon’s nipple, the liquid touch inside surging harder. “Let me give you this.”
Devon was lost in the sensation, then, feeling nothing but Lir’s hands, the touch of the sea inside him, all around him, stroking every inch of his skin at once. He threw back his head and howled as the rush of completion overtook him, every touch combining into overload.
When he could breathe and think a little, Lir’s hands were still on him, and Lir’s cock pressed up against the cleft of his ass. Devon was nodding even before he could gather himself to speak, swinging one foot back to hook over Lir’s leg to spread himself wider and keep Lir close.
The liquid inside him ebbed away in a last tingling caress, and then Devon felt the heat of Lir’s body pressing up against his back as the head of Lir’s cock met his hole.
Both of Lir’s hands settled on his chest, then, tugging and teasing at his nipples, sending more pleasure spiraling through his body. Devon whimpered, writhing between Lir’s hands and his cock, and then Lir began to move inside him. The water cradled them both, holding him steady as Lir moved faster and faster, thrusting harder and harder inside him, claiming him.
He knew, then, that being claimed was exactly what he wanted.
“Yes,” Devon gasped, “Yes, Lir—Lir, I need—bite me, mate me—”
Lir growled like thunder behind him, slamming deep inside, and Devon felt his knot swelling, stretching Devon wider. It felt so good, so right, to be joined with him, and Devon knew that he didn’t just want it for now, he wanted it forever.
“Yes, yes, I’m yours, I’m yours,” Devon gasped. “Take me, keep me, I’m yours.”
Lir kept moving, pulling out and thrusting back in again and again as his knot swelled, pushing and pulling against Devon’s rim every time. He was stretched open wider and wider, and without the delirium of heat to drive him. This was just him, giving himself to Lir because he chose to, and Lir taking him in every way. The pleasure of it was edged with pain, sharp and exquisite. He had never been more present, more aware of what they were doing in every sense, and Devon only wanted more.
He kept crying out, hardly knowing what he was saying beyond Lir’s name, but it all meant yes and more, and Lir gave it to him, stroke after stroke as he pushed himself inside again and again. Finally he tugged and found himself tied, his knot fully blown and caught inside, and even then he rocked hard against Devon, tugging against his rim before pushing deeper inside. Devon had never felt so full, touched so deeply and perfectly. Every breath, every twitch was a new explosion of pleasure.
“Bite me, make me yours,” he gasped. “Lir, I’m yours.”
Lir’s teeth closed lightly at first on the top of his shoulder, and just the promise of it sent a shock of ecstasy through Devon’s body, bringing him close to the peak again. He was shivering with it, wound tight and almost there, his mate filling him and holding him tight.
Then Lir bit down and Devon lost his breath, caught in a lightning strike of pain and pleasure and the feeling of Lir inside him, claiming him, in a whole new way.
Mine, he heard somehow. Mine, always. Always.
Yes, Devon promised. Yes, yours, always, always. He felt as if the whole sea were contained in him then, or as if he were stretched out through all of it, owned and claimed by something he could barely comprehend. It rushed through him, something deeper than pleasure, darker than pain, and he never wanted it to end. Yes, yes, all of it, yes.
When he was aware of his own body again, he could feel Lir’s cock pulsing slowly inside him, filling him in another way, and Lir was licking at the bite on Devon’s shoulder.
Devon turned his head and looked up at the stars through the mangrove leaves, and Lir kissed him, tasting of blood and the sea. “We’re really mated now.”
“Yes,” Devon agreed, letting his eyes close as Lir held him up. He reached out one hand for a mangrove root, and rested the other on his belly. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, and all of this is ours.”
Maybe this is why I couldn’t say what I wanted, Devon thought, smiling up at the sky. I wanted something I could never have imagined. But here we are.
Lir kissed him again and held him close, and Devon couldn’t ask for more.
***
Epilogue
Lir had accepted, after a certain amount of argument, that a very small baby and six werewolves who never wanted to see snow or ice again was no excuse for preventing winter from happening at all on the island. He had pointed out to Devon that a proper North Atlantic winter would make it virtually impossible for anyone to come or go from the island for months, and Devon had said, “Well, we’ll just have to throw a big party before the season turns, then, won’t we?”
Lir had not thought that one followed logically from the other, but he had been thoroughly overruled, and now they were having a party for dozens of werewolves and as many members of Lir’s family as chose to attend. Lir had resigned himself to having to take the baby underwater to get her to sleep, which he had to do about one time in three anyway.
Sometimes she would only quiet for the water; sometimes she would only quiet if she could lie against Devon’s soft fur while he was in his wolf form; sometimes she would sleep no matter what they did. No one had yet figured out any rhyme or reason to it, though, as the party drew nearer, Devon said, half hopeful, half grimly resigned, “Every child-bearing member of the pack is going to give us advice on this. And the ones who haven’t borne children are going to tell us they read something on the internet.”
Lir was confident that nothing on the internet could possibly apply to their baby, who was beautiful and perfect and, as a demi-sea-goddess and werewolf, genuinely unique.
The pack arrived in a large ship, which they anchored leeward of the island before coming across in boats, and Devon’s mother had barely set foot on solid ground before she was reaching for the baby, currently asleep and cuddled against Devon’s chest. “Let me see her!”
Lir curled an arm around Devon, and Devon smiled and said, “Mom, meet Zoey Mara Harriet North. Zoey, this is your grandma.”
Devon handed her over, and his mother immediately carried Zoey out of sight, while more werewolves kept streaming off the boats and onto the island. Devon introduced Lir to all of them, and Lir saw the way their gazes went to the edge of the bite scar on Devon’s shoulder, and their noses twitched, trying to work out his and Devon’s mingled scents.
None of them remarked upon it, though, until a blonde woman stepped up who made Devon fall silent.
“Caroline,” Lir said. “I don’t think you and Devon have ever been properly introduced. Sunlight, my good-sister Caroline. Is George with you?”
“He’s bringing a gang of the grandkids,” Caroline said, but her gaze was fixed on the bite mark on Devon’s shoulder. “Devon...”
Devon glanced over at Lir, and Lir shrugged and tilted his head. They’d both known this was going to happen, and honestly Caroline could probably explain what it meant to Devon better than Lir could; Lir had never been married to a sea god for centuries, after all, and Caroline had.
“Yes,” Devon said. “Let me show you the house and make you a cup of tea. Lir, keep an eye on... everyone?”
Lir looked around the island and the horde of werewolves spreading out across it, and nodded gamely. “I may have to shift into a form with more eyes, but I’ll do my best.”
Devon smiled and gave him a quick kiss before walking off with Caroline. Lir followed the crowd of werewolves, who were heading generally in the direction of the several large tents they’d set up near the center of the island.
Harry and the others had elected to stay in their house during the first onslaught, so Lir didn’t have to worry about them just yet. He headed toward a group of women who were exclaiming over Zoey and passing her around. They let him into the group, but showed no sign of giving Zoey back, and instead peppered him with questions about her weight and height and how these had changed, her sleep and wakefulness, the color of her eyes, and, of course, whether she had changed shape yet.
“Not yet,” Lir said, while three of them started an argument over whether it was too soon to expect her to shift. “She did notice her hands the other day, though, and Devon thought that was the first step toward deciding she’d rather have paws.”
Or tentacles, or fins, or... who knew. Lir didn’t point that part out, though. He edged nearer to Zoey, and had just managed to close his hand around one of her tiny pink feet before Devon’s mother
tapped his shoulder and said, “What’s this now?”
She was looking past him, and Lir turned his attention toward the north beach.
Mar had arrived, and Harry had come out onto the beach to greet him. As usual when speaking to Mar, Harry was standing in a slightly defensive posture, just a little farther from Mar than necessary.
Mar, on the other hand, was wearing that hat with the scarlet plume.
“This is the most excitement we’d had around here until all of you showed up,” Lir said, wondering if he should intervene before Harry’s pack did. They had gotten it into their heads lately that they needed to chaperone Harry when Mar was around, and Lir didn’t know if Mar or Harry was more aggravated by it; he had a feeling Harry only put up with it because he was entertained by how much it annoyed Mar.
Harry’s pack seemed safely distracted at the moment, though. Johnny had somehow already fallen into animated conversation with an elderly matriarch of Devon’s pack—he’d be the first one wanting to leave the island for the wider world, Lir was almost certain, though he wouldn’t go anywhere without Jack. Speaking of, a gang of small children had gathered around Jack, seeming to want his help wading off the beach, and the other three were clearly torn between laughing and making sure Jack wasn’t entirely buried under the weight of small children.
Lir washed his hands of all of them, turning his attention back to Zoey, only to find that he’d lost his tentative grip on her somewhere in the excitement and she was three aunties away now. He was nearly resigned to not holding her again for days when Devon shouted from the beach, “Lir! Bring me my baby!”
That set off a laugh among the aunties, and Lir was able to ruthlessly take her from the elderly werewolf holding her. Zoey blinked open her dark blue eyes as soon as Lir had her tucked against his chest, and he beamed down at her and tickled her cheek. “Hey, little moonlight. Let’s go see what our sunlight wants, huh?”