Flip Tide
Title: Flip Tide
Pairing: Dave/Tavros
Fandom: MSPA
Rating:R
Warnings: Swearing, some dry humping that is actually pretty wet, improbable mating logistics.
Summary: In a seafaring AU, sailor Tavros raps himself right into an encounter with a mysterious and superfly creature.
“It’s hard being a sailor, and no one understands,
‘cause most other people, have always been on land.
They don’t know the hardships
of living on a sea ship.
Can’t scratch my phantom limb itch
and the captain’s kind of a, uh...”
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you rather like night watch. It’s nice and quiet without everyone rushing around and yelling. You savor the time you get to spend on deck, where your horns aren’t constantly getting you into trouble like they are in the close quarters below. It’s just you and the sea, and you can practice your rhymes in peace. You’ve been warned never to sing near the water at night, but it’s not really singing, is it? It’s slam poetry, so everything should be cool.
“Moving on to the food situation,
which is mostly fish and crustaceans.
I think my produce craving’s pretty valid
when I’d give my other leg for a salad.
Haven’t had an orange in a month
and...uh....oh.”
You drop the rhyme and it pretty much shatters all over the deck. You are snapped out of the flowtrance you’ve been lulled into by the gentle rocking of the anchored ship and the simple beat you were tapping out against the railing. Sighing, you let your eyes wander, following the trail of diffuse reflected moonlight on the water as you try to gather the shards of your verse. It’s not until it moves that you notice the anomaly in the strip of silvery light.
You stand up a little straighter, squinting in the dimness to try and get a better look, but it’s too late. The silhouette has already dipped under the water. It had almost looked like a troll, but...you shake your head, resting your arms against the railing and finding your rhyme mojo again.
“Must be seeing stuff,
ocean’s trying to get its bluff
over on this sleepy troll
when all I’m trying to do is roll
with the flow that I’m crafting
with no around to be laughing,
cause I’m all aaaa--!”
You hop a bit as you notice the shape again, much closer this time. It’s undeniably troll-looking, a head and shoulders peeking above the water. You’re about to shout “troll overboard,” but stop yourself when you realized that the creature definitely is not a troll, not even a sea dweller. It has pale skin that almost glows in the moonlight, a distinct lack of horns, and what appear to be giant black eyes that take up a good deal of its face.
You’re leaning over the ship, mouth agape as you try to get a better look. And just like that it’s gone again, sinking beneath the smoothly rolling surface. Again you’re left staring at nothing, consumed with unfulfilled curiosity.
“Hey man why’d you stop rhyming?”
“Shit!” You yelp in surprise, looking around wildly before you realize the voice is coming from the water. You look down with wide eyes at the creature just a few yards from the hull of the ship, floating with ease. Its mouth is moving, and the most delirious flow is being spit from it.
“You got me to be climbing
up to the surface with the purpose
of hearing words with rhythmic timing.
And then you up and quit.
The fuck is up with that shit?”
You listen, fascinated as you take in the strange being. It (he, judging by the voice and flat torso) has short, platinum blonde hair that clings to the sides of his pale, angular face, which is adorned with the large sunglasses you had mistaken for eyes. Something large and red shimmers below the surface, and it definitely isn’t a pair of legs kicking to tread water.
He’s staring back up at you expectantly, but your throat is dry, and you can only choke out, “A-are you uh, a....a mermaid?” You sound stupid, considering such a fakey fake notion you wouldn’t dream of outside of silly Pupa Pan pretend sessions. But really, what else are you supposed to think?
He looks up at you like he’s waiting for you to say more. When you don’t he clicks his tongue against sharp teeth, sharper than yours even, and raises his eyebrows incredulously.
“Do I look like a ‘maid’?
Your racist comments degrade
but I ain’t gonna start a feud.
Know you ain’t tryin’ to be rude
but I think it’s clear that yours truly’s a merdude”
Holy shit but his rhymes are fresh. They spill out of his beautiful pink lips like the sweetest beatnectar from Mt. Flowlympus. You find yourself leaning over the rail far further than would be considered safe, but you don’t care. You just want to get yourself closer to him and his intensely compelling presence. Eventually you manage to respond, “Oh...I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything. I promise it was totally, completely inadvertent, possibly due to the fact that, I’ve never met a, uh...merdude.”
His perfectly level lips twitch just a bit, as if he’s disappointed. You see that shimmer again beneath the surface, flickering almost impatiently.
“You havin’ a lyric drought?
‘Cause if so then I’m out.”
He suddenly rears up in the water before falling backwards to dive under. His body makes a smooth arc and you finally get a view of his lower half as it curves over the surface. It’s an iridescent bright red, glittering scales that get finer as they go down, lined with deep crimson fins. You’re watching his delicate but powerful-looking tail, feathered edges slapping teasingly against the surface, when you realize he’s leaving.
“WAIT! Uh...shit...okay um..
Sorry I was insensitive
but you see I’m just tentative.
I never talked to a creature
that uh...my favorite books feature.
And I’d really like to kick it, see
though my rhymes are kind of ricketty.
So if you’re not indignity-wracked,
uhm...please come back?”
Your last line comes almost desperately, like you’re life depends on his return, and you actually sort of feel like it does. You hold your breath as you watch the dissipating ripples, chewing on your bottom lip.
You hear the surface disturbed and whip your head around, horn catching a bit of rigging. You untangle yourself frantically as you notice the merguy chilling at the bottom of the ladder on the side of the ship. He’s smirking in amusement at your clumsiness, and you finally get free, trying not to trip over your false leg as you make your way over to the break in the railing.
“You ain’t got much game,
but I’ll take it all the same.
Ain’t too many sailors rappin’
so you got my hand a-flappin’
to cool off this case of vapors.
Cure for which ain’t on any papers,
but it’s that you get down here.
Come on, you fly-ass buccaneer.”
Is...is he’s saying he’s flushed for you? Did you seduce a merbro with your sweet rhymes? Something in the back of your head tells you you shouldn’t be listening, that those shades he wears are probably a trophy from a kill. But the way he’s looking at you and speaking with such perfectly ill cadence makes you disregard it all. You’re already crouching down to reach the top rung of the ladder as you respond in kind.
“Uh, well I’m not much of a swimmer,
but I’ll admit my blood’s at a simmer.
And while my fake leg sucks for propulsion,
I’ve got an undeniable compulsion
to join you in the ocean,
seems like a reasonable notion.”
Your prosthetic foot misses a rung and you falter, your hands’ grip tightening. It jars you, and you suddenly realize just what you’re doing, how far down the ladder you are. What the hell are you thinking? This is probably the worst idea...
“Hey chill out I gotcha covered,
don’t leave because you’re flustered.
I’ll keep you afloat while you’re away from your boat.
Come’ere so I can show how my feelings are colored.
If I could only coax you overboard
Your needs wouldn’t be ignored.”
You feel a slippery hand wrap loosely around your bare ankle. It feels gentle and pleading rather than insistent and grabbing. A moment later it slides off, and you’re left with an intense sense of lack when it’s gone. Yes, you want to show him the color of your feelings too. You’ve never been as intensely infatuated with anyone until now. Somehow all the warnings and horror stories you’ve heard about mermaids and their powers are forgotten. Besides, maybe it’s only the ladies who do that drag you to the bottom thing.
You regain your footing and continue downward at a reckless pace, splashing gracelessly into the water. It’s temperate enough to keep you from regaining your senses again, and you hurriedly turn to face the love of your life, keeping one hand on the bottom rung. Your rhymes come easy now that he’s so close, serving as an incredibly sick muse. The words are set to the beat of your heart pounding for this otherworldly Adonis.
“It’s nice to be with you in the sea
‘cause now I can better see
you up close, and wow you’re exquisite.
That I ask your name is pretty requisite,
who’s this lovely thing that’s got me enamored?
You got my soul legit enraptured.”
He smirks again, and now that you’re right in front of him you can barely capture your breath for his handsomeness. He swims closer, one of those wonderfully slick hands traveling up your arm to rest on your shoulder. He has smart looking claws that he carefully keeps out of your flesh, and you can feel the webbing between his fingers.
There’s the pressure of water pushed up against your legs, then the sleek scales brushing against your bare foot. His fins have spines like a stickleback, and you’re grateful his tail wasn’t going the other way, because they could no doubt tear your skin open. You don’t even think about how you usually hate touching fish. You just stare into his shaded eyes as he answers you with his skilled voice and lets your hand explore his impossibly smooth chest and the seamless joining of his disparate halves.
“You’re not so bad yourself, beautiful.
If I may say it, quite doable.
Name’s Dave, by the way.
Now I ain’t gonna play,
and I’m not tryin’ to be lewd
but damn I want you bad dude.
Let go of that ladder and hold me.
You’re drivin’ me mad, baby.”
You bite your lip, and yes, you want to let go, hold him, kiss him, never leave. But there’s still a shred of sensibility that binds you to the metal rung, and you hope he understands as you run a finger over his cheekbone and craft a verse to explain.
“Dave is a nice name.
I guess I should do the same.
Tell you Tavros is my handle.
And gosh I’m not sure I can handle
these compliments you’re giving
Your flattery’s unforgiving.
But right now I’m on lookout.
Otherwise I swear I’d put out.
If I leave I’ll get in in hella trouble.
Believe, if not I’d let go on the double.”
His eyebrows furrow in dismay and it breaks your heart. Your resolve is slipping, you can’t say no to him, especially after his next words.
“Tavros you don’t know what you’re doin’,
drivin’ me to straight to ruin.
Without you I’ll die.
So with kisses I’ll ply.
Please let go of that ship
so I can get up on those lips.”
Your heart jumps as he leans forward and cups your cheek with that wonderfully strange hand. He tilts his head to place his mouth gently on yours. You close your eyes and moan softly as he kneads at your lips with his own. All your reservations slip away, and you’re only holding onto the ladder because you’ve forgotten how to do anything but kiss Dave.
His tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip and you open your mouth for it readily. Your tongues find each other and entwine as he begins to divest you of your wet shirt, his claws making short work of it. Both of you are careful not to catch each other’s teeth as you embrace. He doesn’t even taste fishy or anything, just unnaturally sweet with a hint of salt. You never want to not be kissing him again.
You feel his hand venturing lower, and you think you might just die of ecstasy. It doesn’t occur to you that this sort of thing probably won’t work in the traditional sense, you just thread your own fingers through his hair. You can’t touch enough of him with just one hand, and as he sucks on your bottom lip and palms the front of your trousers, your hand begins to slip away from the ladder.
You’re bucking clumsily against his hand as you let go of your ship. It doesn’t matter anymore. What ship? Who cares when you have the indescribable sensation of floating while the most amazing creature on the planet is pulling you against him, rubbing your bulge right up on him.
His arms encircle your back, hands clutching at you. You’re moaning unabashedly now, rutting against him like it’s all you know how to do. He’s mouthing at your neck, causing you to twitch and shiver. Your lust more than overpowers the mild discomfort as he grip tightens and his sharp nails dig into the muscles of your shoulders.
It’s when his teeth are getting just a touch more rough than a lovebite that you are finally distracted, rather rudely.
“NITRAM! WHAT IN THE SHITTY NOOKSUCKING NAME OF TROLL JESUS ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE? TROLL FUCKING OVERBOARD, STARBOARD SIDE!”
Dave’s head jerks up, looking at something behind you with his fangs bared. His hands and body disconnect from you, and you’ve never felt so crestfallen. He flips back into the water (his spines do catch you this time) and with a flick of that gorgeous tail he’s gone. You’re left flailing a bit in the water, wondering when you got so far away from the ship. The deck is full of your crewmates now, looking out at you, yelling and in some cases jeering.
Your embarrassment begins begins peeking through the haze of desire when the life preserver hooks around one of your horns. You are pulled towards the ship and hauled aboard in an ebbing stupor. Before you realize it you’re dripping seawater on the deck as the other sailors crowd around.
“Chritht, what the fuck happened to you Nitram?” the navigator asks.
“His clothes seem to be in a rather poor state,” notes the ship surgeon.
“Are you...” the carpenter begins, his gaze on your lap, but he quickly quiets himself as sweat begins to bead at his forehead.
“I smell blood,” the quartermaster adds with a far-too gleeful expression.
You look down at yourself, suddenly realizing that your shoulders sting. Your shirt is no more than tatters draped around your arms. Coppery blood is slowly trickling from where Dave was holding your shoulders and from where his fins got you on your calf. The buttons on the front of your pants are broken, and the cloth is barely covering your diminishing arousal. You look back up, realizing everyone is staring down at you for an explanation.
“Uh...” you stammer, absolutely no clue what to say. “I...I...” No one is ever going to believe you. You haven’t even said anything and you already feel completely humiliated.
“Hey, what’s going on here? I was asleep and you idiots start yelling like a bunch of screechbeasts!”
Oh shit. It’s the Captain. You hear her boots clomp along the wood and the crowd parts for her. She’s dressed in her full captain’s regalia, blue coat and hat and all, and you seriously doubt that she was actually asleep.
“This infinite bulgefuck got himself overboard and then had a run in with a fangfish or something,” explains the boatswain that first spotted you.
She looks down at you with a toothy grin, practically salivating at the state of you.
“Nitram, why don’t you come to my quarters and we’ll get this aaaaaaaall sorted out.” It’s not a question.
Oh no. As she practically cackles and drags you by the horns, you look longingly out to the sea. You almost swear you can see that silhouette against the moonlight again, but then it’s gone. The most amazing night of your life is swiftly becoming the most terrible and embarrassing one as well.
Pairing: Dave/Tavros
Fandom: MSPA
Rating:R
Warnings: Swearing, some dry humping that is actually pretty wet, improbable mating logistics.
Summary: In a seafaring AU, sailor Tavros raps himself right into an encounter with a mysterious and superfly creature.
“It’s hard being a sailor, and no one understands,
‘cause most other people, have always been on land.
They don’t know the hardships
of living on a sea ship.
Can’t scratch my phantom limb itch
and the captain’s kind of a, uh...”
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you rather like night watch. It’s nice and quiet without everyone rushing around and yelling. You savor the time you get to spend on deck, where your horns aren’t constantly getting you into trouble like they are in the close quarters below. It’s just you and the sea, and you can practice your rhymes in peace. You’ve been warned never to sing near the water at night, but it’s not really singing, is it? It’s slam poetry, so everything should be cool.
“Moving on to the food situation,
which is mostly fish and crustaceans.
I think my produce craving’s pretty valid
when I’d give my other leg for a salad.
Haven’t had an orange in a month
and...uh....oh.”
You drop the rhyme and it pretty much shatters all over the deck. You are snapped out of the flowtrance you’ve been lulled into by the gentle rocking of the anchored ship and the simple beat you were tapping out against the railing. Sighing, you let your eyes wander, following the trail of diffuse reflected moonlight on the water as you try to gather the shards of your verse. It’s not until it moves that you notice the anomaly in the strip of silvery light.
You stand up a little straighter, squinting in the dimness to try and get a better look, but it’s too late. The silhouette has already dipped under the water. It had almost looked like a troll, but...you shake your head, resting your arms against the railing and finding your rhyme mojo again.
“Must be seeing stuff,
ocean’s trying to get its bluff
over on this sleepy troll
when all I’m trying to do is roll
with the flow that I’m crafting
with no around to be laughing,
cause I’m all aaaa--!”
You hop a bit as you notice the shape again, much closer this time. It’s undeniably troll-looking, a head and shoulders peeking above the water. You’re about to shout “troll overboard,” but stop yourself when you realized that the creature definitely is not a troll, not even a sea dweller. It has pale skin that almost glows in the moonlight, a distinct lack of horns, and what appear to be giant black eyes that take up a good deal of its face.
You’re leaning over the ship, mouth agape as you try to get a better look. And just like that it’s gone again, sinking beneath the smoothly rolling surface. Again you’re left staring at nothing, consumed with unfulfilled curiosity.
“Hey man why’d you stop rhyming?”
“Shit!” You yelp in surprise, looking around wildly before you realize the voice is coming from the water. You look down with wide eyes at the creature just a few yards from the hull of the ship, floating with ease. Its mouth is moving, and the most delirious flow is being spit from it.
“You got me to be climbing
up to the surface with the purpose
of hearing words with rhythmic timing.
And then you up and quit.
The fuck is up with that shit?”
You listen, fascinated as you take in the strange being. It (he, judging by the voice and flat torso) has short, platinum blonde hair that clings to the sides of his pale, angular face, which is adorned with the large sunglasses you had mistaken for eyes. Something large and red shimmers below the surface, and it definitely isn’t a pair of legs kicking to tread water.
He’s staring back up at you expectantly, but your throat is dry, and you can only choke out, “A-are you uh, a....a mermaid?” You sound stupid, considering such a fakey fake notion you wouldn’t dream of outside of silly Pupa Pan pretend sessions. But really, what else are you supposed to think?
He looks up at you like he’s waiting for you to say more. When you don’t he clicks his tongue against sharp teeth, sharper than yours even, and raises his eyebrows incredulously.
“Do I look like a ‘maid’?
Your racist comments degrade
but I ain’t gonna start a feud.
Know you ain’t tryin’ to be rude
but I think it’s clear that yours truly’s a merdude”
Holy shit but his rhymes are fresh. They spill out of his beautiful pink lips like the sweetest beatnectar from Mt. Flowlympus. You find yourself leaning over the rail far further than would be considered safe, but you don’t care. You just want to get yourself closer to him and his intensely compelling presence. Eventually you manage to respond, “Oh...I’m sorry I didn’t mean to offend you, or anything. I promise it was totally, completely inadvertent, possibly due to the fact that, I’ve never met a, uh...merdude.”
His perfectly level lips twitch just a bit, as if he’s disappointed. You see that shimmer again beneath the surface, flickering almost impatiently.
“You havin’ a lyric drought?
‘Cause if so then I’m out.”
He suddenly rears up in the water before falling backwards to dive under. His body makes a smooth arc and you finally get a view of his lower half as it curves over the surface. It’s an iridescent bright red, glittering scales that get finer as they go down, lined with deep crimson fins. You’re watching his delicate but powerful-looking tail, feathered edges slapping teasingly against the surface, when you realize he’s leaving.
“WAIT! Uh...shit...okay um..
Sorry I was insensitive
but you see I’m just tentative.
I never talked to a creature
that uh...my favorite books feature.
And I’d really like to kick it, see
though my rhymes are kind of ricketty.
So if you’re not indignity-wracked,
uhm...please come back?”
Your last line comes almost desperately, like you’re life depends on his return, and you actually sort of feel like it does. You hold your breath as you watch the dissipating ripples, chewing on your bottom lip.
You hear the surface disturbed and whip your head around, horn catching a bit of rigging. You untangle yourself frantically as you notice the merguy chilling at the bottom of the ladder on the side of the ship. He’s smirking in amusement at your clumsiness, and you finally get free, trying not to trip over your false leg as you make your way over to the break in the railing.
“You ain’t got much game,
but I’ll take it all the same.
Ain’t too many sailors rappin’
so you got my hand a-flappin’
to cool off this case of vapors.
Cure for which ain’t on any papers,
but it’s that you get down here.
Come on, you fly-ass buccaneer.”
Is...is he’s saying he’s flushed for you? Did you seduce a merbro with your sweet rhymes? Something in the back of your head tells you you shouldn’t be listening, that those shades he wears are probably a trophy from a kill. But the way he’s looking at you and speaking with such perfectly ill cadence makes you disregard it all. You’re already crouching down to reach the top rung of the ladder as you respond in kind.
“Uh, well I’m not much of a swimmer,
but I’ll admit my blood’s at a simmer.
And while my fake leg sucks for propulsion,
I’ve got an undeniable compulsion
to join you in the ocean,
seems like a reasonable notion.”
Your prosthetic foot misses a rung and you falter, your hands’ grip tightening. It jars you, and you suddenly realize just what you’re doing, how far down the ladder you are. What the hell are you thinking? This is probably the worst idea...
“Hey chill out I gotcha covered,
don’t leave because you’re flustered.
I’ll keep you afloat while you’re away from your boat.
Come’ere so I can show how my feelings are colored.
If I could only coax you overboard
Your needs wouldn’t be ignored.”
You feel a slippery hand wrap loosely around your bare ankle. It feels gentle and pleading rather than insistent and grabbing. A moment later it slides off, and you’re left with an intense sense of lack when it’s gone. Yes, you want to show him the color of your feelings too. You’ve never been as intensely infatuated with anyone until now. Somehow all the warnings and horror stories you’ve heard about mermaids and their powers are forgotten. Besides, maybe it’s only the ladies who do that drag you to the bottom thing.
You regain your footing and continue downward at a reckless pace, splashing gracelessly into the water. It’s temperate enough to keep you from regaining your senses again, and you hurriedly turn to face the love of your life, keeping one hand on the bottom rung. Your rhymes come easy now that he’s so close, serving as an incredibly sick muse. The words are set to the beat of your heart pounding for this otherworldly Adonis.
“It’s nice to be with you in the sea
‘cause now I can better see
you up close, and wow you’re exquisite.
That I ask your name is pretty requisite,
who’s this lovely thing that’s got me enamored?
You got my soul legit enraptured.”
He smirks again, and now that you’re right in front of him you can barely capture your breath for his handsomeness. He swims closer, one of those wonderfully slick hands traveling up your arm to rest on your shoulder. He has smart looking claws that he carefully keeps out of your flesh, and you can feel the webbing between his fingers.
There’s the pressure of water pushed up against your legs, then the sleek scales brushing against your bare foot. His fins have spines like a stickleback, and you’re grateful his tail wasn’t going the other way, because they could no doubt tear your skin open. You don’t even think about how you usually hate touching fish. You just stare into his shaded eyes as he answers you with his skilled voice and lets your hand explore his impossibly smooth chest and the seamless joining of his disparate halves.
“You’re not so bad yourself, beautiful.
If I may say it, quite doable.
Name’s Dave, by the way.
Now I ain’t gonna play,
and I’m not tryin’ to be lewd
but damn I want you bad dude.
Let go of that ladder and hold me.
You’re drivin’ me mad, baby.”
You bite your lip, and yes, you want to let go, hold him, kiss him, never leave. But there’s still a shred of sensibility that binds you to the metal rung, and you hope he understands as you run a finger over his cheekbone and craft a verse to explain.
“Dave is a nice name.
I guess I should do the same.
Tell you Tavros is my handle.
And gosh I’m not sure I can handle
these compliments you’re giving
Your flattery’s unforgiving.
But right now I’m on lookout.
Otherwise I swear I’d put out.
If I leave I’ll get in in hella trouble.
Believe, if not I’d let go on the double.”
His eyebrows furrow in dismay and it breaks your heart. Your resolve is slipping, you can’t say no to him, especially after his next words.
“Tavros you don’t know what you’re doin’,
drivin’ me to straight to ruin.
Without you I’ll die.
So with kisses I’ll ply.
Please let go of that ship
so I can get up on those lips.”
Your heart jumps as he leans forward and cups your cheek with that wonderfully strange hand. He tilts his head to place his mouth gently on yours. You close your eyes and moan softly as he kneads at your lips with his own. All your reservations slip away, and you’re only holding onto the ladder because you’ve forgotten how to do anything but kiss Dave.
His tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip and you open your mouth for it readily. Your tongues find each other and entwine as he begins to divest you of your wet shirt, his claws making short work of it. Both of you are careful not to catch each other’s teeth as you embrace. He doesn’t even taste fishy or anything, just unnaturally sweet with a hint of salt. You never want to not be kissing him again.
You feel his hand venturing lower, and you think you might just die of ecstasy. It doesn’t occur to you that this sort of thing probably won’t work in the traditional sense, you just thread your own fingers through his hair. You can’t touch enough of him with just one hand, and as he sucks on your bottom lip and palms the front of your trousers, your hand begins to slip away from the ladder.
You’re bucking clumsily against his hand as you let go of your ship. It doesn’t matter anymore. What ship? Who cares when you have the indescribable sensation of floating while the most amazing creature on the planet is pulling you against him, rubbing your bulge right up on him.
His arms encircle your back, hands clutching at you. You’re moaning unabashedly now, rutting against him like it’s all you know how to do. He’s mouthing at your neck, causing you to twitch and shiver. Your lust more than overpowers the mild discomfort as he grip tightens and his sharp nails dig into the muscles of your shoulders.
It’s when his teeth are getting just a touch more rough than a lovebite that you are finally distracted, rather rudely.
“NITRAM! WHAT IN THE SHITTY NOOKSUCKING NAME OF TROLL JESUS ARE YOU DOING OUT THERE? TROLL FUCKING OVERBOARD, STARBOARD SIDE!”
Dave’s head jerks up, looking at something behind you with his fangs bared. His hands and body disconnect from you, and you’ve never felt so crestfallen. He flips back into the water (his spines do catch you this time) and with a flick of that gorgeous tail he’s gone. You’re left flailing a bit in the water, wondering when you got so far away from the ship. The deck is full of your crewmates now, looking out at you, yelling and in some cases jeering.
Your embarrassment begins begins peeking through the haze of desire when the life preserver hooks around one of your horns. You are pulled towards the ship and hauled aboard in an ebbing stupor. Before you realize it you’re dripping seawater on the deck as the other sailors crowd around.
“Chritht, what the fuck happened to you Nitram?” the navigator asks.
“His clothes seem to be in a rather poor state,” notes the ship surgeon.
“Are you...” the carpenter begins, his gaze on your lap, but he quickly quiets himself as sweat begins to bead at his forehead.
“I smell blood,” the quartermaster adds with a far-too gleeful expression.
You look down at yourself, suddenly realizing that your shoulders sting. Your shirt is no more than tatters draped around your arms. Coppery blood is slowly trickling from where Dave was holding your shoulders and from where his fins got you on your calf. The buttons on the front of your pants are broken, and the cloth is barely covering your diminishing arousal. You look back up, realizing everyone is staring down at you for an explanation.
“Uh...” you stammer, absolutely no clue what to say. “I...I...” No one is ever going to believe you. You haven’t even said anything and you already feel completely humiliated.
“Hey, what’s going on here? I was asleep and you idiots start yelling like a bunch of screechbeasts!”
Oh shit. It’s the Captain. You hear her boots clomp along the wood and the crowd parts for her. She’s dressed in her full captain’s regalia, blue coat and hat and all, and you seriously doubt that she was actually asleep.
“This infinite bulgefuck got himself overboard and then had a run in with a fangfish or something,” explains the boatswain that first spotted you.
She looks down at you with a toothy grin, practically salivating at the state of you.
“Nitram, why don’t you come to my quarters and we’ll get this aaaaaaaall sorted out.” It’s not a question.
Oh no. As she practically cackles and drags you by the horns, you look longingly out to the sea. You almost swear you can see that silhouette against the moonlight again, but then it’s gone. The most amazing night of your life is swiftly becoming the most terrible and embarrassing one as well.