6
Tom was cleaning his face after a shave when a knock came at his cabin door.
“Enter,” He called and one of his men, Avery, stepped in looking unsure.
“Sir, your mermaids back,”
Tom frowned and wiped his jaw dry. Singer's visits were nothing out of the ordinary now, he'd become a familiar presence among the crew.
“And? Is something wrong?”
Avery shifted on his feet.
“Not exactly, sir. He’s asked for you, he’s waiting on deck,”
Tom sighed, glancing at his half-dressed state.
“I’ll be there in a moment,”
It was growing colder, a biting chill in the mornings that steadily held on longer and longer as the days shortened. Tom stepped on deck in his deep blue coat, and immediately caught sight of Harry standing naked among the crew.
“To work with you!” Tom hissed at his men waving them away. Harry was shivering, skin covered in goosebumps.
“Hello, Tom,”
“Hello, love, what are you doing out here shivering your skin off?” Even as he asked, Tom was sliding off his coat and placing it over the mer’s bare shoulders.His shirt was thick enough to keep out the worst of the cold and some part of him demanded Harry be covered from prying eyes.
“I brought you a gift,” Harry croaked and Tom could just hear the influence his crew's accent was having on the mers.He’d come such a long way in the language in such a short time.
“More treasure?” Tom raised a brow with a smirk but Harry seemed much subdued that morning. Wherehe’dnormally respond playfully there was something almost bashful about the way the mer was holding himself.
Harry raised his hands and brought attention to a pile of seagrass that Tom hadn't noticed before. Tom blinked at the weeds, glancing up at Harry's reddening face and back.
“Flowers,” Harry clarified andTom's heart did a strange flip.
He took the soggy plants from Singer's hands and examined them closer. Among the grass was kelp and what must've been soft coral.
“Flowers,” Tom repeated as he stared at the bouquet. “They’re lovely…why did you bring me flowers?”
Harry looked away, a charming blush high on his cheeks, shiny with red scales.
“I read about it. That this is usually how people do it,”
Tom would have to have a discussion with Rosier. What in the hell was in those books Singer had been reading?
“Do what, Harry?”
The mer shifted, Tom's jacket slipping to reveal a golden collarbone.
“Courting, of course,”
And Tom stilled. He swore the entire ship had frozen in the middle of the sea.
“You are… You’re courting me?”
Now it was Harry's turn to blink, his green eyes expressive.
“Of course I am, what do you think I’ve been doing?”
That was a reasonable question, hehadn't put much thought into their relationship, as odd as it was. Though that wasn't entirely true he supposed, there was little time he spent without the mer on his mind. Hecouldn't deny his own attraction to Harry. Hecouldn't even say that his affections stopped at appearance, Singer had wormed his way into his crew and his heart. He considered the mers casual touches, how he parted with a hand to Tom's chest, the gifts he brought only for Tom.
“I don't know. I suppose I thought mermaids had foreign customs,” He admitted, which sounded much stupider aloud. He knew he’d made a mistake from Harry's responding frown.
“Foreign customs? You’re wearing my scales around your neck,” He gestured snappishly to the jewelry Tom hadn’t removed since he’d received it, and Tom couldn't help a flush of embarrassment. The movement nearly cast off Tom's coat and he had to stop himself from reaching out to right it. He spared a surreptitious glance around the deck to be sure there were no lingering eyes and his crew seemed happy to feign ignorance though Tom had no doubt they were listening in.
“You’re right, of course,” Tom offered appeasingly. “Might we continue this discussion in my cabin?”
Harry narrowed his eyes, pointed teeth bared in a hiss. “You and your propriety,”He snapped but led the way off-deck.
Harry throws open the wooden door with a huff and whirls around the coat flaring wide. Tom looks away, ensuring the door is closed securely behind them.
“You won'tlook at me,” Harry grumbles, drawing the coat closer as ifhe'd ever cared about baring himself to the world. “Are you upset with my courting? Am I ugly?”
“Ugly?” Tom’s jaw falls open, aghast. “You don't even belong in the same sea as the word– you're the most beautiful creature I've ever seen,”
“Then what's wrong? Have I messed it up? I’ve never courted anyone before– certainly not the human way,”
“No–I. I was being foolish,” He stepped forward, it felt wrong for Singer to be anything less than unapologetic and overconfident. “I didn’t believe you had an interest in me so I brushed aside the signs that were there,”He traced the scale strung at his neck andHarry's gaze followed the movement.
“Well, I do. Have an interest in you,”
“Yes, I understand that now,”
Harry scowled.
“Must I kiss you to get a proper response?”
Tom, feeling awfully warm and out of his depth swallows thickly.
“It's certainly worth a try,”
And then Harry's cheeks were flushing that stunning red, he stepped forward, green eyes bright and slipping closed. Tom's hand found his jaw, thumb at the corner of his lips as they finally met. They were soft, a little chapped, and tasted like the sea. He was warm under Tom's palms andhe brought the other up to his waist, warmth flaring in his gut as his coat finally fell away.
Harry kissed like he was drowning, lips hungry, teeth sharp fingers grasping at Tom's shoulders.
And Tom cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, for not tasting the salt on Harry's skin months ago.
Tom pulled Harry closer, molded them together, and forced his tongue between reddened lips. Harry let out a needy sound, sharpened nails drawing a hiss from Tom as they sank into the meat of his shoulder. A sharp canine knicked Tom's tongue and Harry sucked the coppery taste down, a responding moan crawling free of Tom's chest.
Harry drew back, breathing fast and Tom was no better off, feeling years younger as he heaved for breath.
“Is this– can we– are we going to do the coupling now?” Harry asked, eyes bright, pupils blown and warmth high in his cheeks.
Part of Tom wanted to laugh, a fond grin breaking loose across his cheeks, but mostly he was consumed by the heat building under his skin.
“If that's alright with you,” He teased and Harry looked ravishing, lips swollen, skin flushed and speckled with scales. He dove back in for another kiss with an eager nod and Tom led them back towards his bed, the edge catching Harry's knees and sending them sprawling.
Tom finally allowed himself to really look at Singer's form, he’d always tried to avert his eyes out of respect but here it was presented to him–a gift. He was beautiful, freckled, and scaled with golden-tanned skin. Tom traced his way down, appreciating every new mark, every scar, lathering the skin in kisses as he went.
“Tom,” Harry breathed, a hand fisting in his hair. At an insistent tug, Tom worked his way back up, sucking marks into the bared skin until their lips locked again, Harry's fingers fumbling at Tom's shirt buttons.
“I hate these things,” His crow's voice hissed the words but Tom could only chuckle, leaning back to remove his shirt and trousers. Harry stared appreciatively, clawed fingers tracing lines of muscle and making Tom shiver.
“Have you ever had sex, Singer?” Tom asked softly, reaching to retrieve a jar of oil from his bedside table. The ship rocked steadily under them.
“That is coupling? No,” he didn’t sound nervous about that, focused on the flex of Tom's arms and back as he moved.
“We’ll take it slow, then,”
He moved back on his knees between Harry's parted legs. He gripped a calloused hand around Harry's member and gave a firm stroke shocking a low moan from the mers lips, with his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure he missed a slick finger slipping lower. It traced his hole before pushing inside slowly. Harry gasped, tensing at the foreign sensation.
“Breath,” Tom gentled, free hand sliding up to rest on his stomach. “You just need to relax,”
Harry shuddered out a breath, but Tom's lips were back on his before he could think too much about it. A second finger slid in next to the first, a burn accompanying it. Harry breathed against Tom's lips as he adjusted. Slowly the strain eased and the next flex of Tom's fingers sent a fizz of pleasure down his spine. Tom pulled out and pushed back in, curling in just a way that made Harry keen, back threatening to arch off the bed. Hepushed in a third finger, working them in and out, peppering kisses down Harry's neck, across his chest, down his stomach.
“You're doing so well. Just like that, Singer,”
A pressure was building in his gut, a toe-curling feeling that made him grit his teeth and whine, pushing down on Tom's fingers for more. Tom's deep chuckle reverberated through his chest as he withdrew his fingers.
“Alright, darling, here we go,”
Harry's hands found Tom's shoulders as the man lined himself up and slowly pushed inside. It punched the air from his chest, that strange feeling of too full and too warm–too much. But Tom shushed him, whispering reassurances and encouragement into his ear.
“Breathe,” He reminded gently and Harry gasped in a shaky breath. Tom was much bigger than his fingers, the stretch burning. But he was well-oiled and unbelievably turned on and soon enough he was pushing Tom to move again.
The first few thrusts were shallow, building a pace before he was driving in with force and making Harry cry out. It was so much better than anything he’d expected. With every thrust Tom pushed into that bundle of nerves that made Harry's eyes water, his voice crack and leap sounding entirely unlike himself.
“Alright, darling?” He sounded out of breath himself, but Harry could hear his grin.
“S’good,”
The tidal wave of pressure was building again and Harry clenched down against it makingTom’s thrust stutter on a moan. His toes curled, head thrown back as the wave reached a crescendo and he came with a guttural cry. He shook through it, Tom driving in and out relentlessly before he followed him over the edge with a shuddering groan.
They lay there for a while after, Tom pulling Harry close and simply basking in the afterglow. Harry tried to say something, thanks maybe or something stupidly sentimental but Tom laughed, “I can't understand you, little Singer,” and he realized he’d tried to say it in mer. He was too blissed out to care, head swimmy, body lax and satisfied. Tom pressed a soft kiss to his sweaty forehead. Looking down at this dozing man he was nearly left breathless by the strength of his emotions. He’d never been a man to encourage heart-to-hearts or acknowledge feelings. He was more of the mind to shove any unsavory or unnecessary emotions down until they disappeared. Somehow Singer had come along and drudged up a whole lot of unnecessary feelings.
He pet a calloused palm down Harry's side, traced a claw-marked scar over his hip. Andyetsomehow he wouldn't trade this feeling for anything. Singer blinked open glowing green eyes, grinning when he found Tom already watching him. He dipped forward to steal a kiss before slipping from the bed. Tom was always amazed by his boundless energy.
He leveled Tom with a mischievous smirk.
“Fancy a swim?”