by Dessa Lux
“Do you want... a house?” Lir suggested tentatively, and Devon’s head came up sharply, eyes wide.
“Can—is that—can you do that?” Devon bit his lip shyly, cheeks going pink like a sudden sunburn. “I mean, of course you can, but—”
“Well, I’ll have to figure out how,” Lir admitted. “I’ve never made a house before. Or lived in one. You’ll have to tell me how you want it to be.”
“I, uh...” Devon looked around the island, too, and his gaze lingered on the new little ridge Lir had begun to form along the windward side. “I’ve never built a house either, but... we could look up some stuff? Although I don’t know what we can build it from, without trees or soil...”
Lir winced. He hadn’t gotten to those yet, though he knew they were both important things that made land really land and not just a floating raft with algae holding it together and sand piled on top.
“Well,” he said firmly, slipping into the tent for the laptop and settling again close to Devon’s side. “We’d better get started, then.”
*
It turned out to be possible to build a house out of a special kind of mud called cob. It needed the right kind of clay and sand and straw. Sand, they had, and with a bit of searching Lir figured out what he needed for the rest.
“I can get clay like that,” he said firmly. “There are a few places on the floor where it has a composition like that, so I can bring some up. Straw, though...”
“Seaweed?” Devon offered tentatively, looking up at him. “If there’s any that grows sort of... ribbony, it would probably have the right kind of fibers. We could dry it out...”
Lir beamed at him and kissed his forehead, and when he straightened up Devon was smiling.
“I’ll find some—in fact, we might have some nearby. All sorts of shallow-water things are growing around the island now; I hardly even had to call them, they just seem to show up.”
Devon looked down as though he was just realizing what was under them, and Lir said hesitantly, “Would you like to see? It’s... not exactly like a real island, underneath, but it’s interesting.”
Devon bit his lip. “I, um... I can’t change into a shape that’s...”
Lir shook his head. “I can fix a bubble for you, so you can breathe. You don’t have to change, I’ll look after you.”
Those words seemed to echo in his ears, for just a fraction of a second, but then Devon knelt up and kissed Lir right on the mouth, and he forgot all about it.
Lir grinned into the kiss and pulled Devon close, relieved. He likes it, he wants me to take care of him. I can keep him safe and happy.
Devon stripped out of his clothes and Lir led him to the edge of the island. He stepped onto the surface of the water and tugged Devon gently after him, making the water dense enough to hold them up.
Lir couldn’t help grinning at the way Devon’s eyes went wide, as though a little water-manipulation was more spectacular than all of Lir’s work building him a piece of land. Lir was, literally, in his element now. He could do all kinds of things for Devon here.
“Now,” Lir said, squeezing Devon’s hand. “We’re going to slide down into the water, but I’m going to make sure there’s an air bubble around your face, so you can still breathe and talk just like normal. Okay?”
Devon’s grip tightened, but he nodded without hesitating. “Okay.”
When they were waist deep Devon made a little distressed sound and said, “Can you—can you make it faster? I...”
Lir tugged Devon closer, folding his arms around his precious land-dweller. “Close your eyes.”
Devon did that immediately, pressing himself tight against Lir, and Lir quickly moved them down under the surface.
“Lir?” Devon said in a tight voice, eyes still shut. “Lir, can you—please, this is—”
“Open your eyes, sunlight,” Lir said, and Devon obeyed, and then gasped.
They were about half Devon’s height under the surface—plenty of midday light still came through that little depth of clear, calm water, but they were deep enough to see the underside.
This near the surface it looked almost solid, the uppermost tentacles thick with interlaced green growths wherever any light could get in at all. Toward the middle lived the things that preferred the darkness and the shelter the island afforded, and everywhere fish were darting in and out.
“Oh,” Devon whispered. “Oh, Lir. It has roots. It’s like a, a plant in a hydroponic tank.”
A land thing, growing from water. Well. That was just about right. Lir grinned, and Devon grinned back, bright as the sun. Lir felt himself turn warm and thought, Oh, that’s what I needed.
He didn’t let himself think any further—didn’t let that thought stay at all. He leaned in, through the edge of Devon’s air bubble, to kiss his grinning mouth, making Devon laugh a little and kiss him back. Their bodies tangled together like seaweed, like tentacles, like roots, until Devon gave Lir a little push.
“I want to see more!” Devon demanded, safely in his air bubble again and still grinning.
“Come on, then,” Lir said, taking Devon’s hand and tugging him along into the current of the warm gyre that held the island up and kept it in place. “I’ll show you everything.”
*
Before Lir could get too carried away with showing off his domain to Devon—he wanted to show him the whole busy length of the underwater ridge, too, with all its vents and hot spots, and the deep dark floor—Devon reminded him about finding seaweed so they could get started on building a house.
Soon enough he found some of the right kind, harvested what could be spared, and encouraged the rest to grow faster. Devon returned to the top of the island to spread out the seaweed to dry, and Lir dove deep for more raw materials, gathering up old coral skeletons and gray clay. When he brought them to the surface Devon was waiting with two emptied-out watertight crates, and they were soon both muddied to the armpits with mixing up the cob.
“We’ll still need some way to shape it,” Devon said pensively, looking toward the site they’d chosen, near the center pool where the weight could be borne best. “To brace it while it dries. And maybe some kind of foundation? I suppose we can build it right into the bedrock. Bed-plastic?”
“Right,” Lir said, popping up to his feet. “I’ll get rocks! There are lots of those.”
Before Devon could do more than look startled and a little amused, Lir was diving back into the water, arrowing down to the ridge and its tumbles of volcanic stone. When he returned again Devon had retreated under the awning and was eating a sandwich; he came out to watch while Lir chose the spot for the first glassy black stone and knelt to clear the sand away down to the bones of the island. It was already scarcely recognizable as plastic, the sand and algae having packed densely around the original skeleton.
Devon looked up at him, smiling. “It really does look like proper ground, almost. And I suppose this is where the roots are deepest.”
Lir grinned back and set the stone down firmly. “There. That won’t budge.”
The words felt strange as soon as they were out of his mouth. His entire domain was about change; even the seafloor itself was constantly being changed by eruptions and vents and the constant push of new ground being created over in the rift.
But this stone, on this island... this was supposed to stay, exactly as it was. Because that was what Devon needed.
It’s just to satisfy my father, Lir told himself, not even sure why he needed to tell himself anything at all. For a year or so. For Devon’s baby.
And after all, the island itself was still floating free. However impressed Devon was by the island’s roots, they all still terminated in open water; without Lir keeping the island’s special supporting current in place, the whole thing would float free, or sink. So what did it matter if one particular rock stayed in one particular place on the island?
“Thank you, Lir,” Devon said softly, and Lir looked up from the rock to see Devon grinning at him a
gain.
Devon ducked down to give him a little kiss, and then pulled back to yawn. “Ugh, sorry, I guess I need a nap, too.”
“Finish eating first,” Lir said, glancing toward the abandoned sandwich. “I’ll keep at this, then we can start building up when you’re awake.”
Devon nodded, already looking drowsy around the eyes, and went back to the tent. Lir went to get another rock, and tried not to think too much about what he was doing, or why, or what any of it meant. He focused on fitting the stones together into a graceful curve, remembering halfway along that he needed to leave a low spot for a door.
By the time Devon woke up, he’d made a complete ring, with three doors marked by just a low lip of stone.
“Oh,” Devon said, walking up to stand by the foundation, which came nearly to his hip, while Lir was kneeling down inside, considering how to make a floor. “Oh, wow. Lir, this is amazing. It looks like one solid piece.”
Lir looked up at him and grinned. “You know they call this drystone, when it’s done on land? Fitting all the pieces together without mortar.”
“It’s amazing,” Devon said, reaching out to touch the glassy black stone, only to jerk a hand back, tucking his fingers into his mouth.
“What...” Lir stood up and reached out his own hand, wondering if he’d left a sharp edge. It was perfectly smooth, but hot where the black stone had absorbed the sun’s heat. “Oh.”
“It’s also a little, like...” Devon frowned, studying the curve of the stone. “You know. A little evil sorcerer’s tower, all shiny and black.”
Lir felt oddly pained at the idea of undoing the work, which was silly when he’d just spent hours trying not to think of the permanence of it. But he’d been so sure Devon would like it, that Devon would feel safe inside the walls he built...
“The cob should stick to it, though,” Devon mused. “We could just use it to sort of plaster over the foundation, that way there wouldn’t be a seam where the cob starts and everything would stick together better.”
“Oh,” Lir said, picturing it. The cob, with black sand and gray clay and white coral skeletons, had worked out to a light gray color; with the seaweed added it would gain a green tinge, and the whole house would look like a single rock with lichen growing on it. Actual lichen probably would grow on it, or moss.
“That’s... that’ll be okay then?” Lir asked hesitantly. “You don’t want different rocks for the foundation?”
Devon looked up, startled. “What? No, you already did all this, and it’s beautiful. It’s sort of a shame to cover it up, but it doesn’t exactly look cozy, the way it is.”
“Oh,” Lir said, trying to absorb that, and the way it felt to know that he’d done right for Devon after all. “Okay. You’ll have to help me with the coziness, there hasn’t been much of that in my domain before.”
Devon grinned. “Yeah, I think I can be your expert on cozy things.”
Lir kissed him just one more time before they went to see if they’d succeeded in making the right kind of mud.
***
Chapter 8
Devon had half expected that Lir would just wave his hand and—poof!—a house would appear. It felt a little bit like that; waking up to that foundation already in place had been like that. But then he spent the rest of that day, and all of the next, mixing up cob and building lumps and bricks of it into walls.
Lir left the whole question of windows up to him, and Devon shaped them with his own hands, round portholes in the thick walls. They filled in one of the doors, after Lir explained why he’d made so many.
“I thought... we build this first,” Lir explained, gesturing to the big circle he’d made, large enough that they could lie down on opposite sides with their heads to the walls and their feet wouldn’t touch. It was tiny compared to any house Devon had lived in, but a palace compared to the tent.
“Then we can just keep adding on pods as we need them,” Lir went on, his hands shaping more little circles in the air. “Bedrooms, a bathroom, whatever we need, once we figure out we need it. That way the house can keep growing, like the island.”
“Okay, one, we definitely need a bathroom,” Devon informed him. “And two...” he kissed Lir, which seemed to be how half their conversations went since he’d told Lir about his heat coming, since Lir offered to help. “That’s perfect, Lir. I love it.”
Lir grinned and said, “I guess I better get more rocks, then?”
By the end of the second day the walls were above the height of Devon’s head. They’d need to dry and harden fully before they could try to put a roof on top, which was fine because they hadn’t quite decided what they were going to make a roof out of anyway. Still, standing in the center of the half-built house he’d helped Lir make, watching the sun sink through the western windows, Devon felt more at home than he ever had anywhere.
“Let’s sleep here tonight,” he said, leaning against Lir. “We can bring in the stuff from the tent, and the awning, in case it rains...”
“It won’t rain,” Lir promised him, and kissed the top of his head. “You can sleep where you like, sunlight, of course.”
Of course. Devon could sleep where he liked. Lir, being a sea god, didn’t seem to need sleep at all, so it hardly mattered to him.
But even if Devon could brush that off now, the time was rapidly approaching when he wouldn’t.
“You know, um,” Devon ducked his head against Lir’s chest, hiding his face. “When I... when I have my heat, it...”
Lir held him, waiting, and didn’t try to finish his sentence or guess what he meant. It was sort of a relief, and sort of scary, to have to say what he was thinking without being prompted.
“It doesn’t really... stop. I mean, it stops! After a day or so, it stops, but until then, it, um. I won’t...”
“I’ll take care of you,” Lir murmured. “Whatever you need, sunlight.”
“I’ll need you,” Devon blurted. “With me, all the time.” He swallowed, and added in a smaller voice, “Please.”
Lir belonged in the sea, belonged to the sea. Devon knew that. Even while they were working on the house, Lir had ducked back under the waves for one reason or another several times. It wasn’t for long, and it wasn’t like Lir didn’t do way more than his fair share of building the house, but... he didn’t just stay, either.
“Of course,” Lir said softly, and then his fingers were under Devon’s chin, tipping his face up so Lir could see him. Lir’s eyes were a steady, calm blue, and Devon’s breath caught at the way Lir looked right at him, right into him. “I promise, Devon. As long as you need me, I’ll be with you.”
Devon closed his eyes, nodding. “I just... wanted to make sure you knew. Before.”
Lir hugged him again and kissed his forehead. “Come on, let’s fix up a nice little nest in here so you can get some sleep.”
Devon felt a strange, lonely pang even with Lir’s arms still around him, but he smiled and nodded and went with Lir to get his bedding from the tent.
*
Devon woke up to the sight of a sky glittering with stars and the full moon shining down on him; he stared up at it for a while before he recognized that he was panting, squirming, and the moon’s light didn’t feel cool and comforting where it touched him. His skin felt hot all over but he didn’t want to cool down. He wanted to be covered, to be held close—
“Lir,” he gasped. “Lir, it’s—”
He had a half a second to wonder what he was going to do if Lir was off somewhere in the sea, miles away, and then there was a hand on his forehead and Lir’s worried face hovering above him.
“Is this—oh, heat,” Lir said. “I thought maybe you had a fever when you pushed all your blankets off, but I guess it’s called heat for a reason, huh?”
Devon nodded. He tried to smile back—he thought he should smile, Lir looked worried—but he needed.
“More,” Devon gasped. “Lir, touch me, I need you, please, it—it’s gonna hurt if—”
�
��What, no, no, it doesn’t have to hurt,” Lir said hurriedly. Before Devon could explain that his heat would keep rising if he didn’t get what he needed, Lir was there, his big, muscular body settling over Devon’s, pinning him down against the blankets.
Devon breathed a sigh of relief, but it hardly lasted long enough for him to do that. Now that he wasn’t feeling that diffuse need to be touched, held, his need was concentrating lower down. He wriggled under Lir, spreading his legs wide to feel the touch of air where he was wet, his cock pushing up against Lir’s belly.
“I need,” Devon repeated. “Lir, I need you, hurry.”
“Shh, shh.” Lir just petted his face and didn’t do anything useful.
Devon arched impatiently under him and discovered that he couldn’t move. Lir didn’t look huge, although he was definitely bigger than Devon—but Devon couldn’t move him an inch when Lir didn’t want to be moved. That note of power in his scent was suddenly all Devon could smell.
Devon moaned, more slick rushing out of his hole, as he realized just what he was offering himself to. Lir was beyond just an alpha. Lir was a god.
And now Lir’s hand was between his legs. Devon gasped at the feeling of Lir’s fingers slipping across the wetness on his inner thighs, and then Lir was rubbing at his opening. It was already softened with the start of his heat, soaked with the slick he was producing, and Lir’s two fingers sank in like they belonged there.
No one else had ever touched him there, and Devon never wanted any other. Only the salt-sharp electric smell of Lir, the stroke of his fingers as rhythmic as waves. He found just the right place to touch and Devon let out a wail as pleasure jolted through him.
“More,” he gasped. “I need—”
“We’ll get to that,” Lir murmured, still holding Devon down with the hard length of his body, his fingers stroking inside where Devon was hottest and wettest.
Devon couldn’t think, tried to beg and didn’t know whether he was making sense or even making any sounds at all. Lir’s touch and Lir’s body were relentless, feeding the wild need of his heat. The sensations built higher and higher until they hit a sudden peak, too much and not enough all at once. Devon wailed as he came, overwhelmed but still aware that he only had Lir’s fingers inside him, nothing more. Not what he needed.
