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“Is that a mouth on his penis?” asked Maedhros incredulously. He was braced on his elbows on the beach, peering at Fingon’s phone in a mix of fascination and horror. His long tail thumped on the surf, sending up a small shower of water as if emphasizing his disbelief.
“It’s sexy,” said Fingon, more amused by Maedhros’ reaction than he was paying attention to his phone. Maedhros spared him an incredulous glance as he reached out to poke the screen, and his expression did not improve at the subsequent gallery of mouth-on-genitalia pictures.
“Oral sex,” Fingon clarified. “is more common than penetrative, honestly, I think. Less of a hassle, at any rate.” Fingon’s mind went back to the last time he had done it; well over a year now. His oral sex life had been in a rather desolate state since his one steady partner also happened to have a mouth full of razor sharp shark teeth, serrated edges and all, and had reflexively recoiled when Fingon tried to go down on him with his mouth.
Hence the informative phone search.
Fingon had imagined it only once: Maedhros’ lovely face, lips taught over the girth of Fingon’s dick. How his skin would burn red as his lungs strained for air, even as he took Fingon deeper and deeper into him. His keen mind focused entirely on bringing Fingon over the edge, because the gods forbid Maedhros not excel at anything he set his mind to, including making Fingon orgasm until his body threatened to give out (Fingon would know. It happened with pleasurable regularity).
The thrill of how, if that concentration ever slipped, or if Maedhros so wished, all those teeth would be right at -
Fingon swallowed. Maedhros, who had taken his phone and was doing some sort of metal calculus about the commonality with which humans practiced mermaid BDSM, did not notice.
Okay, so Fingon may have imagined it several times. A couple hundred clandestine meetings with his hand. Maybe sometimes he laid awake at night in a crisis (a small death, as one might say) over his hitherto undiscovered kinks: an ever-growing list starting with ‘the best sex of my life is fucking a fish’ and ending with ‘maybe the fish will put his razor sharp teeth on my dick’.
“We should do it,” said Fingon, in a sexy voice. Maedhros dropped the phone.
Fingon squawked unsexily, throwing himself over Maedhros’ bulk before the tide stole his phone. He shook it out, water dripping off the protective case and magnifying the plethora of porn with little drops. He swiped it away irritably, throwing his phone in the opposite direction, far up the beach. The entire stretch belonged to his grandmother, so if Fingon failed to find it before she did, the worst thing that would happen is that she (the OG monsterfucker of the family) would know about his attempts to teach Maedhros human sex ed via hands on instruction. Maybe they could compare notes.
Maedhros had barely even grunted at Fingon’s weight on him. When Fingon whirled on him, still sprawled over his tail, Maedhros half turned over to squint at him and asked, “Are you insane?”
“You nearly threw my phone into the ocean,” said Fingon, indignantly.
Maedhros’ ears flickered dismissively. “You’ve seen my teeth.”
Ah. Fingon’s face brightened. “And what lovely teeth they are!”
He sat up properly over Maedhros, ignored Maedhros rolling his eyes, and leaned close to his ear, so his breath ghosted over its pointed tip. “Just think about it. Aren’t you curious how I taste? I am. I keep thinking about it. I wonder how your slick tastes when it's fresh, when you’re overcome with pleasure. How my seed tastes mixed with yours, if I can ever reach deep enough to lick it all out. I wonder what that tentacle will feel between my lips, if it ever releases when you do, despite your control of it. How far it will go - so much farther than anything else I could ever take.”
Maedhros turned away, but his shoulder and ear pinked. Fingon grinned and grinded his hardening length into Maedhros. He braced his hands on the muscles of his shoulders, and pressed a kiss to the sensitive flesh behind Maedhros’ ears. “And I keep thinking - every night I just wonder - what your mouth will feel like on me. How deep can you take me, before you run out of air? If you do it in the water, can you just stay there indefinitely, keep me warm until you bore of it? And if I choke you, if you get mad at me, would you scrape - “ Fingon cut himself off with a groan, but not before Maedhros realized what he was getting at.
“You are insane,” said Maedhros. His breath hitched before he talked, so Fingon knew he had won. He grinned.
“It’s not that different from me kissing you,” said Fingon, in a reasonable, lying voice.
“You don’t start crying when I kiss you too long,” said Maedhros.
Fingon sputtered. Maedhros took advantage of his indignation to throw Fingon off his back and rolled over him. His hands braced by Fingon’s head, and the weight of him kept Fingon pinned; he couldn’t even wriggle.
“I don’t cry during sex,” said Fingon, even as he futilely tried grinding up into Maedhros. “I’m a very sexy person.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I only do very hot actions.”
“Of course.”
“Unless you’re into me crying. You’d just have to ask and I’d cry out for you all night long, baby,” Fingon leered.
Maedhros rolled his eyes magnificently; it was a wonder he didn’t strain a muscle.
“And anyway,” said Fingon, as Maedhros finally let up a bit so he could properly rock up into him, his clothed dick straining against the hard plane of his tail. Fingon gasped, his hands running up Maedhros’ arms until they tangled in his hair. “I’m not the one who can just keep going, like a cheater.”
“I’ve never heard complaints about that before,” said Maedhros with faux innocence.
Fingon snorted, pulling him down. He pressed his lips to Maedhros, once, twice, then bit them. Maedhros gasped, and the taut line of them relaxed from where they were covering his teeth. Fingon ran his tongue against their sharp edges. Maedhros hissed away from him the next instant, his lips a bloody smear to match Fingon’s.
Fingon swallowed. His mouth was full of copper; like Maedhros’ hair, turned liquid, except it was Fingon’s own blood. He sucked at the little cuts on his tongue, then kissed Maedhros’ wrist where it still framed Fingon’s face. “Come on. The only way you’ll ever hurt me is when I want you to." Maedhros' arms trembled. Fingon pressed another kiss to it. “And we both know there’s not much I can do to hurt you.”
Maedhros breathed out harshly. His tongue swiped over Fingon’s blood at his lips, and his voice was raw as he said, “That is not the point.”
Fingon shrugged. His gaze gentled as the tense line of Maedhros’ back didn’t relax, trembling with more than desire. “Honey,” he said, and Maedhros’ ears fluttered. “There’s not a single part of you that doesn’t turn me on. I want everything, always.” He ran his thumb across Maedhros’ high cheekbones. “I’m greedy like that. I’d let you eat me if that’s what you wanted.”
And it was frightening, sometimes, to want someone this much. To carve them into your heart; to bury yourself so deep within their own they can never get you out. To bite into them and come away with an intrinsic part of themselves, kept only for yourself.
Fingon’s family called him obsessive; as if they weren’t the same, the hypocrites. He would lose himself in sports, in his work, in the crazy nights of his teenage years spent with an itch under his skin straining for a freedom he couldn’t even name.
But oh, Fingon wouldn’t mind losing himself in Maedhros’ eyes. Fingon had the ocean in his blood and the siren song in his heart. When Maedhros looked at him like this: like he was a strange jewel, wondrous and coveted, and sharp in too many edges to be a simple bauble, he felt like the siren was himself, and Maedhros just a simple human caught in his net.
“We don’t have to do it,” said Fingon, pressing another kiss to the tender flesh of Maedhros’ wrist, where his pulse beat against Fingon’s tongue.
Maedhros' strange expression settled into determination. “I still think you’re insane.”
“Maybe a little,” conceded Fingon, grining.
“I’m going to bite your dick off,” continued Maedhros, conversationally, pulling down Fingon’s shorts.
Fingon’s dick twitched. He hoped it was just the natural reaction to being released and not yet another concerning kink. “I’m pretty sure I can’t regenerate,” he gasped, kicking off his shorts.
“Want to find out?” said Maedhros and then swallowed Fingon to the base without any hesitation.
Fingon’s back arched straight off the beach. Sand stabbed into the still-raw lines Maedhros left on him when Fingon fucked him yesterday, yet all he could do was throw his head back and moan.
When his brain returned to him, Fingon braced himself on his forearms and looked down. He had not, thankfully, come, because that would just be embarrassing and Fingon would have to throw himself into the ocean from shame. Maedhros’ face was as red as his hair, and his mouth was warm and wet, and his lips wrapped tight around Fingon's base. His eyes were crossed in determination, his face getting redder by the second even as his gills trembled, and Fingon almost laughed. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of that glorious red hair spilling over his lap into the sand and hauled Maedhros up.
Instantly, Maedhros started sputtering and coughing for air. Now Fingon laughed, and Maedhros glared at him even as he sniffled. His eyes glistened attractively. Fingon hadn’t even realized he had tear-ducts. If he actually cried, Fingon was going to lick every drop before it could wet the dry, greedy sand. His own mouth was as dry as a desert; it was clear he needed the moisture more.
“I’ve eaten things bigger than you,” grumbled Maedhros, once he stopped coughing. His mouth was almost a pout. “What did I do wrong? It’s just like the pictures.” His beady black eyes with little silver rings narrowed on Fingon’s face. “You liked it,” he said, an accusation.
“I like everything you do,” said Fingon, helplessly. “I just don’t want you to choke on me.”
“You said - “
“Well, yes. But.” Fingon paused. In other circumstances, Fingon would have already pushed Maedhros onto his back, thrown his legs over Fingon’s shoulders, and demonstrated with enthusiastic detail how to deepthroat without asphyxiating yourself. In these circumstances, he tightened his grip and pulled Maedhros down by his hair, until his breath ghosted over Fingon’s leaking tip. “Start here,” Fingon said, his voice gone low and deep.
Maedhros’ hands flexed where they were braced on Fingon’s thighs. “Bossy,” he said, and licked at the head. Fingon trembled, his grip tightening on Maedhros’ glorious hair, as Maedhros considered the taste of him. Then Maedhros kissed his tip, mouthing along it with his lips tight around his teeth.
“T-That’s right,” said Fingon, “And grab - grab the base.”
“Utterly insane,” said Maedhros, but obligingly wrapped a clawed hand around him. He was big enough that his claws almost met his palm around Fingon’s girth, safely away from his sensitive flesh. Almost. Fingon swallowed, so overcome with desire he might drown in it.
“Tighten your grip,” Fingon ordered. He hissed as Maedhros did so, his abs clenching and unclenching with the urge to spend. “And now - “
Maedhros, ever a quick study, licked him again. “Yes,” Fingon hissed. Maedhros hesitated only briefly before he gently ran the duller edge of his teeth against Fingon’s slit, and Fingon nearly spilled despite the grip on his base. “Oh god.”
He felt Maedhros smile against him. “Not my name.”
“Maedhros - “
Maedhros hummed and did it again. Fingon didn’t know whose name he gasped then, but when Maedhros took his tip in his mouth and swallowed around it, he decided it didn't matter. Maedhros’ teeth scraped where the head met the rest of him, and Fingon ran out of gods to thank.
He pulled Maedhros lower, gasping out, “Gently, yes, good - just go slow, you’re so good, love, so good,” like a broken record on repeat. Maedhros hummed around him, his mouth wet around Fingon's dick, saliva and pre glistening on his lips and dripping down to his hand. Maedhros’ thumb stroked him with the white-hot edge of his claw, leaving a thin line behind, and Fingon’s grip tightened to the point of pain over Maedhros’ hair. Maedhros hissed into Fingon’s dick, and suddenly, there was a sharp row of teeth all around him, their edges like knives against his flesh.
“Fuck,” gasped out Fingon, releasing his grip and dragging his freed hand down his face. He trembled, but every muscle had locked up tight as he strained not to move. His blood pounded like war drums, a hot rush of adrenaline bursting through him, growing hotter every second before the teeth were safely tucked away behind lips. Fingon could still feel the phantom threat of them. “Fuck, that really should not be so hot.”
Maedhros let out a questioning noise, making as if to pull off, and Fingon’s hand snapped back to his hair and kept him in place. “Don’t you dare,” snarled Fingon, and pulled him lower.
Maedhros moaned, muffled, as Fingon’s tip touched the base of his throat. He had not yet swallowed enough of him to reach his hands, and the thought of fully stuffing him, of choking him, made Fingon grit his teeth and deliberately gentle his grip. He stroked at Maedhros’ face, his cheeks puffy from keeping Fingon safely in him, his lips stretched wide. “You’re so gorgeous,” said Fingon, dazed.
Maedhros hummed around his dick; Fingon guessed he was making sarcastic commentary, or something very sappy about Fingon, or something both sarcastic and sappy about Fingon’s taste in lovers, and thrust up a bit to choke that down. Maedhros whined, his tail thumping into the sand. Fingon braced his feet on the sand, steadied his grip, and thrust up again, and again, and again. Fingon kept him there, lightly rocking into the warm promise of his throat, until his gut tightened with intent.
Fingon hissed through his teeth as he stopped moving. His tongue still stung, and it all only added to the fire within. “Are you breathing all right?”
Maedhros had shut his eyes, only opening them to lock with Fingon’s gaze and nod, slightly, as much as he could between Fingon’s hand and Fingon’s dick. His gaze was unfocused; something Fingon rarely saw before he orgasmed. Maybe he had. Maybe he had come just from this. “G-ood,” said Fingon, his own breathing harsh and labored. “You can move your hand now.”
Maedhros did so and shifted upwards. His hold redirected itself to Fingon’s butt, finding familiar indents with ease. Fingon shuffled to accommodate him, and curled upwards on nothing but ab strength, gripping Maedhros’ head with both hands.
Then slowly, gently, he brought Maedhros down, until his lips met Fingon’s groin. Maedhros swallowed around him, and the motion rippled his throat around Fingon’s dick. “There you go,” Fingon gasped, seeing stars behind his eyes. Maedhros did it again, deliberately, and Fingon whined. His hips rocked up in tiny jerks, spurred on by Maedhros’ grip on him. “You’re amazing, so so good for me. Just keep - keep there - and - “
Fingon curled entirely over Maedhros’ head as he came, his eyes squeezing shut and mouth falling open from the shock of it. It had been building for so long that the sudden rush left him breathless, and Maedhros just kept him there, swallowing it all, his throat working him over and his teeth safely away from it all and -
Fingon hauled Maedhros off him for the second time that day, wheezing as he collapsed bonelessly into the sand. “That was the best blowjob of my entire life,” he said in a daze. “Why am I like this.”
“Maybe I’m just that good,” said Maedhros, smug. His voice sounded like rocks were stuck in his throat, rather than Fingon’s cum. Fingon’s dick let out a bit more spend at the reminder, then gave up all efforts in exhaustion.
Maedhros swiped it with his finger, licking it off. “It’s much saltier than I thought it would be,” he said. “It feels much greater quantity this way than the other way, or when you spend on the outside. Was it more this time?”
“Please don’t science my cumming habits,” said Fingon, weakly, already resigned to adding ‘scientist roleplay’ to his late night cringe list.
“This is important interspecies information exchange,” insisted Maedhros, his lips curling upwards.
“You’re a little shit, for your information,” said Fingon.
Maedhros crawled back over him, the girth of him forcing Fingon’s legs open wide to each side and his back to lay flat on the sand. “I don’t know about that. Is it not ah, a bigger shit, to leave the favor unreturned?”
Fingon couldn’t help it. Even as his hand snaked down to the stroke where Maedhros would be wet and opened, tentacle already reaching out for him, he burst out laughing, muffling snickers into Maedhros’ chest, and feeling so light his heart threatened to burst.
~~
(The phone, when his grandmother handed it back to him, was no longer open to porn. Fingon couldn’t meet her gaze, and wanted to drown himself when she said, with grim amusement, “It took me far more convincing than that.”)