by Dessa Lux
One house was plenty for now, though. When they’d put a roof on the little round house, and its bathroom, and moved in and assembled all the things in the crates, they had a bed, which Devon rolled around in, delighted.
He held his hands out to Lir, beaming. “Come on, try it out! It’s so soft!”
“It’s so dry,” Lir grumped, but he let Devon draw him down onto the sheets. It was certainly softer than the nest of blankets it was replacing, and it made Devon happy, so Lir couldn’t object.
Devon pulled him into a kiss, tugging Lir on top of him, and this suddenly felt different from the kisses they exchanged now and then, standing upright or sitting near the water. This felt like...
Lir drew back, frowning a little for what it might mean. He had been starting to think that their mating must have been successful, but... “Are you receptive again? Another heat?”
Devon frowned back, and then laughed and shook his head. “I mean... I’m feeling pretty receptive, but just the usual kind. Not heat.”
Lir frowned harder, and Devon caught one of Lir’s hands and drew it down between his legs.
“It’s not as easy the rest of the time, but if you give me a little time to warm up, we can do pretty much all the same stuff,” Devon said. “Just... because it feels good. If you want. It doesn’t have to be all night, that way.”
Lir pressed his fingers in where Devon had guided them, finding that tight, muscular little entrance. When he stroked it with his fingers, he felt it soften, the beginnings of that copious wetness anointing his fingers.
“Oh,” Devon trembled under him. “Oh, Lir, yeah.”
Lir kissed him gently. “Have you ever? When it wasn’t...?”
Devon shook his head, looping his arms around Lir’s neck to keep him close. “Go slow?”
Lir kissed him again, and went very slow indeed, caressing and kissing him everywhere. When he kissed his way down to Devon’s belly, Devon’s fingers slid into Lir’s hair, tugging him up.
Devon was smiling, but he shook his head. “Don’t think about that. This is just us, just because we want to.”
Lir smiled back. “So? This is part of you. And I want to.”
Then he peppered a dozen kisses there, until Devon was squirming and laughing, pushing ineffectually until Lir finally had mercy and kissed lower, licking the length of Devon’s cock as it firmed up, then drawing it into his mouth.
He pressed his fingers lower, finding the softening ring of Devon’s opening, wetter now. He stroked over it as he sucked at Devon’s cock, until Devon was writhing under him, gasping and moaning instead of laughing. When one of his fingers slipped easily inside to find the wet hot place within, he let Devon’s cock slip from his mouth and moved lower, licking at the place where he pressed inside—the place where Devon’s surface let him through.
The wetter he got, the more Devon tasted like the sea, salt-rich and full of life. Lir lost himself there, diving into Devon’s body and wanting nothing more than his intoxicating taste, the heat of him and the pleasure they could share.
He only stopped when Devon called his name, sounding frantic; then without a thought Lir moved to blanket Devon’s body with his, shushing him with soft, sea-slick kisses.
“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” Lir murmured, only aware of his own hard cock now, when it pressed against Devon’s body. All the pleasure he had taken in pleasing Devon suddenly concentrated down to that one part of his body which needed more.
Devon made a little impatient sound and moved, wrapping one leg around Lir’s hips and lining them up. Lir didn’t resist him, pushing inside—slowly, slowly—until he was sheathed in the wet heat of Devon’s body. He started with gentle movements, like the ripples in a sheltered pool, and he kissed Devon with sweet little raindrop kisses.
But the pleasure of being inside Devon like this again took him over as surely as it did Devon. Neither of them were wholly lost to it, not like during Devon’s heat, but Lir let himself respond to the urge to move faster, sinking deeper inside as Devon gasped his name, until he was crashing into Devon like the tide, strong and relentless.
Devon arched under him, crying out as he climaxed, and Lir felt it from the inside, Devon’s body tightening around him again and again. There was no need to resist it, no need to draw things out, so he sank in deep and let his knot form, swelling to fill Devon up completely and locking them together.
Lir kissed him again and again, drinking up the sweet lost sounds Devon made as his own long climax began. He felt himself pulsing inside, filling Devon up with his seed again, even if it wasn’t to any purpose this time except the pleasure of doing it.
Devon gave him a little push that Lir had learned the meaning of during his heat, and he turned to the side, drawing Devon with him. Devon’s leg stayed hooked over his hip, and Lir kept his arms around Devon to hold him comfortably close while they stayed joined.
After a little while Devon’s eyes opened, and there was a new smile on his face, one Lir didn’t think he’d seen before, crooked and sweet. “So. I guess we broke in the bed pretty well.”
Lir kissed Devon’s smile. “And here you told me this was only for us, for fun, when really we were testing the bed.”
“Well, next time, then,” Devon promised, tucking his head under Lir’s chin as if that would hide his shining smile. “Next time will be just for fun.”
*
A few days later Lir was sitting with Devon on the sand on the margin of the island. The salt grass he’d coaxed up had sprouted all over the little ridge he’d made, which was farther from the island’s edge every day as the current brought more and more plastic debris to build out the island. Lir was barely conscious of having anything to do with it anymore; the island just grew, like the tough green grass and the little flowers, some white and some purple, that bloomed in scattered patches on the sand at the island’s edge.
They had unseen roots, like the island’s trailing underwater tentacles, running under the sand to connect patches of flowers to one another. They seemed like islands, but they were all connected, and their connections anchored the sand. They were helping the sand become soil, helping the island become land.
Lir wasn’t thinking about any of that, though. He was thinking about Devon tucked against his side, dipping his toes into the water at the island’s edge. He was thinking about what he was starting to sense about Devon—inside of Devon.
“Do you—” Lir said, just as Devon said, “Lir, can you—”
They both stopped, looking at each other.
Devon’s eyes were bright, his smile wobbling as he bit his lip.
Lir nodded encouragingly, waiting for him.
“Can you tell?” Devon asked, his hand settling low on his belly, still perfectly flat. “Because I think... I think I feel like it’s there, but...”
Lir laid his hand over Devon’s and closed his eyes, concentrating.
Devon wasn’t like any other part of his domain. Lir couldn’t just flow into him, through him, and know him in the way he could know the creatures that floated and swam and anchored themselves in the depths. He couldn’t sink into Devon the way he could the water and its currents, the seafloor and its slower motions.
But with Devon’s invitation, Lir could feel what was there to be felt, and he felt what he had been looking for. There was another life, tiny but busily growing in the cradling depths of Devon’s body, where it was growing its own little sea to float in.
Lir smiled even before he opened his eyes, and Devon let out a little delighted squeal. “Really? Really, oh wow, shit, Lir! I’m—we’re gonna—”
“Yes,” Lir agreed, catching Devon’s laughing mouth in a kiss and drawing him close. “Yes, you are, and we will.”
They kissed until Devon drew back with a startled little sound, looking up into the soft pattering of rain falling over them—over most of the island, now.
“Lir!” Devon looked delighted and anxious all at once. “Is it—are you sure it won’t just wash
everything away?”
“I’m sure.” Lir wrapped his arms firmly around Devon’s waist, holding him close—and holding close the tiny life inside. “It’s got roots, remember? It’s staying put now.”
Devon’s smile softened, and he returned to kissing Lir as the rain fell gently around them.
***
Chapter 10
Three weeks after his heat, Devon was no longer in the slightest doubt that he was pregnant. He woke up, caught a whiff of the orange Lir had left out for him, and had to fling himself out of bed and away from it before he threw up. He made it to the bathroom, but just barely.
There wasn’t much of anything for him to throw up, but his stomach did its best to make him regret this whole situation. But he’d only been kneeling there for a minute or two when he felt Lir’s hand on his forehead, cradling it just above the rim of the toilet.
Devon leaned into the touch, which gave him something else to focus on. He managed to take a few shaky breaths without anything really undignified happening, and then Lir coaxed him to pick his head up a little.
“Here, sunlight, just wet your lips.” Lir’s other hand appeared, cupped to hold clean, cool water.
Devon lapped up just enough to soothe the sting in his mouth, and then leaned gently sideways against Lir.
“Better?” Lir asked softly.
Devon didn’t open his eyes, or move. His stomach wasn’t done with him yet, he sensed.
“Could you just...” Devon stopped short, feeling silly and suddenly aware of being gross and helpless and small and mortal.
He felt Lir’s mouth press against the crown of his head. “Anything, sunlight.”
Devon smiled a little, then winced and made himself go slack. Carefully he said, “Just... talk to me? Please? I just need to not think about my stomach.”
“Oh,” Lir said. “Um... what...?”
Devon realized that Lir didn’t know what to say, and he almost laughed at the realization that he had flummoxed his gorgeous alpha sea god. He could build a magic island and put a house on it and make flowers grow on the beach, sure, but talking, that was hard for Lir.
The submerged shaking of the almost-laugh rattled his belly just enough to send up another wave of nausea. Devon gasped and then retched, pressing hard into Lir’s hand as his stomach tried to empty itself again.
“Oh, sunlight, I’m sorry, shh, shh.” Lir sounded oddly calmer, Devon noticed, even while his stomach wrung itself over and over. Lir’s other hand settled gently on his back, rubbing up and down his spine in slow, soothing waves.
“I should probably tell you about my family, since we’re about to start our own,” Lir said. “I don’t have a mother, really—I mean, there’s Mother South, who is the mother of the warmer oceans beyond my brothers’ reach, but she’s not my mother, not the way Father North is my father.”
Devon managed to catch his breath. “So you—you didn’t make anyone sick like this, huh?”
“I didn’t,” Lir agreed, and his hand left Devon’s back long enough to offer him that palmful of cool water again. Devon wet his lips and rinsed his tongue and then leaned limply against Lir’s hand on his forehead.
“I just sort of came into being, I think. I remember being small in the far north, sort of—and in George’s domain. He’s my up-brother, or my up-brother’s up-brother—because his domain flows through Rann’s and into mine, and so he and Rann are responsible for me, sort of, as I’m responsible for Luth...”
Devon couldn’t make much sense of it—the family tree he tried to build in his head quickly turned to a confused tangle of ups and downs, even before Lir started talking about his more distant relations in oceans beyond the North Atlantic—but the sound of Lir’s voice steadied him. Soon he felt able to lean over against Lir’s side, away from the toilet, and Lir fed him a few more sips of water, from a glass this time.
*
The idea of Lir having brothers stuck with him. He knew they were far-flung, less than a dozen of them scattered from North Carolina to Norway, but still, he had a sense of joining a family. A pack. It made the ocean seem less vast and empty around the island, knowing that it was Lir’s territory, and that his brothers’ territories flowed all around its edges.
It was only a thought that occurred to Devon now and then, looking out at the ocean at odd moments. There wasn’t time to wonder much about it—werewolf pregnancies were normally shorter than human ones, while hybrids could fall unpredictably in between, anywhere from six to nine months. Devon’s pregnancy was definitely a hybrid, but he had no idea how to guess whether that meant his and Lir’s baby was apt to arrive early, or late, or simply materialize one day at the island’s edge.
That last one was probably unlikely, although skipping labor—or even one more day of morning sickness—sounded like an awfully nice idea sometimes. But then he would put his hand to his belly and remember that his baby—his and Lir’s, the proof and product of their mating—was growing inside him, and that made up for a lot, even if it was hard to remember when he was rushing into the bathroom at first light.
Still, once the morning sickness passed he was busy all around the island. It was growing all the time, both getting bigger and sprouting new plants that grew at an impossible rate. Within weeks there was a whole western half of the island made of rolling hills big enough to seem like actual hills, covered with tough green grass. Scrubby bushes grew here and there in the hills, while a few actual trees were sprouting up nearer to the island’s center, where the circular black glass pool had deepened and widened into a pond with ambitions of growing into a lake.
A stream flowed out of the eastern edge of the pond, meandering past the house before it broadened out into marshy land and then a straggling line of waist-high mangroves that Lir said would be a proper swamp soon.
Around the house the ground was still mostly sand, with the tough grass and the little white flowers starting to fill it in.
“I don’t want to fill it up too much,” Lir said. “We’re sheltered enough here in the center that the sand won’t just wash away, and we’ll want room to expand the house. We’ll need a real bedroom, at least, don’t you think?”
Devon grinned at the thought, feeling warmed the way he always did when Lir talked about the future, their home and their family. He always said we like that, like he wanted this little house in this sheltered spot just as much as Devon did.
“Well, if we haven’t got a bedroom door to close, this one won’t be getting a little brother or sister for an awfully long time,” Devon said.
He only realized what he’d said—not just a familiar euphemism for we won’t want to fuck with a toddler in the room, but the idea of more babies with Lir—when he felt Lir twitch a little beside him, and heard his heartbeat skip.
“I mean,” Devon said, not even sure how to take it back, or if he should. “Not that...”
He trailed off as he thought of it himself—he would come into season again some spring. Probably not the first or second one, because the baby would still be nursing and his body would know it was too soon, but sometime.
How would they manage that? Where would they send their first child when Devon went into heat again? They didn’t have any neighbors, no grandparents or aunties or uncles living near who the little one would know and like to visit.
When he was small it had mostly been his nannies who looked after him, regardless of what his parents were doing, but he had always looked forward to exchanging visits with the pack. He’d had one cousin or another over from time to time, and now and then he’d been allowed to stay at one of their homes as well. And on the solstice moons there had been big pack gatherings, huge noisy meals and pack all around. Devon had always felt lonely in the midst of the pack; he was no one’s favorite, not really close to any of the cousins who he only saw twice a year and during sporadic visits, and his parents were too busy running things to notice what he did.
But he hadn’t been actually alone. He’d never gone hungr
y or cold, and if he’d gotten hurt or sick or lost his pack would have been there for him.
Out here he had no one but Lir and Lir’s mysterious, distant brothers, and a baby who might arrive anytime and would need him to be the responsible grown-up, a proper parent.
“Hey, sunlight.” Lir’s voice sounded a long way off; the touch of his hands seemed unsubstantial until it turned to firm pressure, hugging him close and tight against Lir’s body from head to toe.
“Hey, I’ve got you, I’m here,” Lir was saying, nuzzling against his hair. “Whatever it is—we’ll be all right. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix it, just tell me and I’ll make it right for you.”
For now, Devon thought, pressing his face against Lir’s shoulder. For now, because I’m young and thin and this is all kind of interesting and novel, but you’ll get bored and go back to being a full-time sea god and I’ll be alone and...
“Shh, shh, hey.” Lir was somehow still holding him tight and close but also tugging Devon’s chin up, brushing his hair back. “Hey, look at me, sunlight.”
Devon forced his eyes open and realized that Lir had one hand on his chin and somehow...
Devon looked down and discovered that he was wrapped up not in Lir’s arms—or not only in Lir’s arms—but also an indeterminate number of sleek gray tentacles. They looked rather like a dolphin’s skin, and felt warm and muscular where they held him close.
“Oh!” Lir said. “Sorry, I can—is that—I just needed more arms to hold you, and—”
The tentacles started to draw away, leaving him feeling cold and unsteady, and Devon shook his head, wrapping one arm around Lir and reaching for the retreating tentacles with the other hand.
“No, I—it feels good. Being held like that.” He giggled a little, hiding his face against Lir’s shoulder again, and added, “I guess you’ll probably be able to handle diaper changes no matter what.”
“Well, as long as the little one sticks with one shape,” Lir agreed, sounding like he’d already considered the possibilities. His tentacles wrapped around Devon again, holding him snugly but not quite so tight.
