straycat_cayra: (mele)
[personal profile] straycat_cayra
Written for the smut_exchange Folklore round.

Author's Notes: A lot of thanks goes to Semi, who not only alpha-read this train wreck in progress, but supplied me with a bunch of related Youtube links and then started to draw both the lovely illustration for this story and a cracky bonus; Char, who beta-whipped my ass into shape; and Shroud, who basically keeps me from talking myself out of participating every single time. I love you people.

~*~

It was a Friday, which meant two things: A blessedly short shift at the store (even though the owner kept them a half hour late) and classics night at the Club. Iven had swung by earlier to remind him, which irked Arel a little. So what if Iven and Eirik had talked at him for two months until he agreed to help out at the tiny bar they owned. Reluctantly given or not, Arel usually kept his word.

He had to jog to make to bus downtown, but it saved him from being too late.

The Club wasn't much, just five tables, a bit of floor for dancing and a low stage with a battered piano in the corner, but they had a few regular patrons and the occasional stranger passing through. Arel helped with opening up and cleaning on the weekends, and on Fridays, he played piano, taking requests from the patrons. It was the only time he could really feel grateful about the lessons forced on him as a child.

It had been a slow night so far, just a couple talking quietly at the corner table and one of the regulars at the bar, a man in a purple-and-black goth outfit sporting an alarmingly long Dali mustache. Arel kept forgetting his name. Ray something. And, of course, Liv had come in earlier, bringing over some new flyers for the local GLBT group.

"Hey, Arel." Iven stuck his head out of the back room, struggling with some crates."Can you stack these in the left board?" He asked, nodding towards the top crate. "Liv and her girls drank all the fruity stuff on Wednesday."

Arel grinned. "Are you sure it was them? I know you're awfully fond of girly cocktails yourself."

"Ask her yourself, and while you're at it make the piña colada she's waiting for." Iven retorted.

Arel laughed. "Do you want to poison her? You better mix it yourself." He lifted the crate of bottles and hauled it over to the bar.

Stacking the bottles was tricky business, as only some of them were round. Others had a more oval or square base. Arel had to stack them just right, or else they'd slip off the rack and crash onto the floor.

"Where is your fan tonight?" Eirik asked, winding past Arel to deposit some money in the register. Along with being Iven's boyfriend and co-owner, he was in charge of serving. And teasing Arel tonight, it seemed. "You know, that Uriah guy."

Arel frowned, but since he had his hands full, refrained from making a rude gesture. Uriah had been coming to the club regularly over the last two months, on Fridays. He usually arrived between nine and ten o'clock, watched Arel play a set, drank a beer or two, and left some time after midnight. He always came alone, and he did not seem very interested in conversation with anyone at the Club. He watched Arel.

"He's more of a stalker." Liv commented from where she was leaning on the bar, playing with the container of straws in front of her. "I haven't seen him socialise with anyone here, ever. That guy lurks like a pro."

"So, let's face the facts. Half the guys who come to the Club on Fridays have a crush on Arel. Some even work up the courage to say something." Eirik asserted, putting down several orders, then went to make his rounds.

"None of them do the silent stare thing, like they want to devour you whole." she insisted.

"Nah, they are just picturing him naked." Iven threw in, taking Eirik's place.

"Not to mention he's too stylish to be this coy naturally, especially in a place like the Club. Just look at him, playing at Tall, Dark and Rapist." The way she said it, Arel could practically hear the capital letters.

"At what?"

"You know the type, the kind that lures you into a back alley or their apartment and then does bad, bad things to you." Liv gestured widely with a straw. Iven took it from her and plopped it into a glass, getting out the ingredients for several cocktails.

"You're crazy. Next you're comparing him to the guy from Twilight!" Arel protested, then quickly turned his attention back to the shelf, barely catching a small syrup bottle before it could tumble off.

"She just spends too much time on the Internet." Iven laughed. "So, Arel, did he ever chat you up yet?" He dropped a few strawberries into the blender and pushed the button. The noise would have drowned out anything he said, so Arel just shook his head, wiping his hands on a towel.

"But you'd like him to. I've seen you eye him back."

Arel was not so sure about that. Uriah was hot, his good taste and slightly exotic looks not lost to him. But while he discarded the ‘rapist' part of Liv's assessment pretty much instantly, he had hesitated to approach the man on his own so far.

Arel looked up, startled out of his reverie by the thump of a heavy cocktail glass onto the bar. "Speaking of the devil, this looks like progress to me." Iven grinned at Arel, nudged his shoulder. "Don't waste it." he told Arel, then swung out to join Eirik at the tables, collecting empties.

Arel blinked, then looked around, eyes meeting Uriah's from far too close for his peace of mind. How long had the man been sitting there? And more importantly, had he heard them discuss him?

"Go on." Eirik pushed him around the bar, towards Uriah. Arel nearly stumbled, then squared his shoulders and approached.

"Uhm, hi." Arel managed. So much for playing it cool. He was greeted by a slow smile and a nod in return.

Arel sat next to Uriah , fussing with his cocktail to mask his nerves. He eyed Uriah, trying to be covert, but probably making a fool out of himself with how he squinted.

Tonight, Uriah's dark hair was held back in a loose tail, and the first two buttons of his dark green silk shirt were undone. It was extremely distracting. Arel floundered for something to say, then, to cover up for it, tried the drink Iven had made for him. The glass was pleasantly hot, a spicy aroma rising from the pink fluid. Half a strawberry was even speared on a little colourful pick.
It tasted really good, too, the spice liquor mostly masked by the pureed strawberry's sweetness, but offsetting it nicely. If Arel remembered correctly, this was one of the Club's traditional winter cocktails and not on the menu in June. It had been specifically requested, then.

"A Red Hottie? Really?" he asked in as incredulous tone as he could manage. "That's awfully punny of you."

Uriah shrugged, returning the smirk with a crooked smile of his own. "I though it fitting. And after all, you seem to like it." He covered Arel's hand with his own, scooting closer around the table.

"You took your sweet time. I didn't even know you could talk." Arel pointed out bluntly. After a few weeks of Uriah's staring, Arel had assumed, the man's behaviour had been motivated less by a romantic interest and more by boredom. Had talked himself into believing that maybe Uriah just liked to watch people, not him specifically.

The man had the gall to laugh. "I had to make sure you were...qualified, first." he told Arel, wrapping an arm around his middle, hand stroking firmly down his back.

Arel shivered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"You'll see." Uriah was leaning much to close for Arel's comfort, probably could feel the heat rising into Arel's cheeks. They were close enough that he could see darker flecks in the green of Uriah's eyes, noses bumping.

Oh.

Against Arel's chapped lips Uriah's mouth was hot, tongue flirting with the corners of Arel's mouth, twisting sinuously against Arel's when allowed entrance.

Ohh.

Uriah's grip on the back of Arel's neck was firm, the possessive hand kneading his back was
making sparks dance up his spine as heat coiled low in his belly. Arel clutched at Uriah's shirt as the man pulled him closer, making their glasses rattle.

His knee hit the bar, jarring him out of the sensations. With a pained hiss, Arel broke away, appalled at how heavy he was breathing, how unsteady his legs were as he pushed himself up, away from the table and this criminally sexy man. "Sorry, I... I need some air."

He fled, grabbing his backpack from behind the bar and nearly bowling over Eirik in his haste to get out of the door.

What the hell was he doing? He did not know anything about Uriah, had in fact complained about feeling stalked before. And now he let the man practically grope him in plain sight of half the Club? Usually not his style.

But at the same time, he felt better than he had in quite a while. Good enough that he was tempted to go back and throw himself at the man again.

Well, shit.



~*~

"So you basically snogged and ran?" Liv looked sceptic. "I'd have thought you'd rejoice in the opportunity to talk to him."

"Yeah, talk, right. You should have seen them." Eirik laughed, flopping down next to her, his head landing in Iven's lap. "They made a bunch of lonely bachelors very jealous."

Arel hid his face in his hands. "A bunch of dirty voyeurs like you, you mean."

"Well, technically, the bar is a public space. I have thrown out patrons for unseemly behaviour or public disturbance." Iven cut in, his expression mock-grave.

"More like a public display of a little too much affection." Liv threw in.

Arel looked up to glare at her. "Your head is a public disturbance." he shot back, then laughed at himself. Today's conversation was well-nigh overflowing with maturity. "Looking at you two makes me want to claw my eyes out."

Iven had freshly dyed his hair, the blond almost violently yellow again, blue streaks scattered in between. He still smelled of the chemicals. With Liv's electric pink head next to his, they looked like a pair of psychedelic mops.

"Some hair care would do you good, maybe make it look less like seaweed." Liv told Arel, ruffling his head until his red hair stuck up in every direction, making him resemble a really disgruntled rooster.

"You've been smoking seaweed, that's right." He batted her hands away and tried to smooth his hair back down. The effort was futile, as Liv's sweater was a formidable source of static energy and every single hair just stood right up again after he let go.

Eirik made a face. "I don't think you can smoke that. Imagine the taste..."

Arel shuddered. "I'd rather not. The side effects would have to be fantastic to endure something that awful."

"Don't Asians boil that stuff and make aphrodisiacs from seaweed?" Iven said. "You should try it." He grinned down at Eirik. "Might make you a bit more adventurous."

"Are you feeling neglected?" Eirik asked, grinning right back at him.

Liv laid a hand on Arel's arm, her grey eyes unusually serious. "So, are you going to give the man a chance, or not?"

Arel took a deep breath. "I guess I'd be stupid not to."

~*~

"Huh." Arel dug his toes into the wet sand. The water was just this side of uncomfortably cold, now that the sun was hanging low in the sky. The evening winds were coming in already, ruffling his hair into a wild mess. So much for the hour or so he had spent primping, trying to brush his hair into an actual style for once. "This is actually kind of romantic." He smiled, looking over his shoulder at Uriah, who was shaking sand from his trousers' cuffs again.

Or Romantic's retarded little brother, at least. He stepped over a twist of old plastic netting. If you wanted a picture-perfect beach without the occasional remains of rampant consumerism, you had to walk farther out than the half hour they had been rambling along the surf's edge.

"I am pleased you think so." Uriah replied, his voice dry. "Glad to see I did not scare you off...permanently."

Arel laughed. "It takes a little more than that. I'm hardy."

"Are you, now."

He took Uriah's hand and pulled him over to a large, round rock that protruded out into the water, clambering up the dry side and pulling Uriah down to sit with him. His shoes and the towel he threw just far enough so no breakers would get them wet.

Uriah took off his shoes and socks leisurely, placing them neatly on the sand. When he had ensured they would not get soaked easily, he joined Arel on the rock, sitting so close their legs pressed together. He wrapped an arm around Arel, fingers playing over the bit of collarbone exposed by Arel's dorky Trollface t-shirt.

Arel shivered, but leaned into him. "Want me to prove it?" he teased.

"Oh, by all means, please do." Uriah took Arel's hand and placed a kiss in the palm.

Arel climbed into his lap and, between kisses, started to unbutton Uriah's shirt, slipping his hands inside to explore warm skin. Uriah let him work, lightly running his hands along the sides of Arel's thighs.

He buried his face in the crook of Uriah's neck. Whatever aftershave the man was wearing, it smelled really good, a pleasantly spicy note.

Arel impatiently pushed Uriah's shirt off his shoulders. Uriah threw it aside, then leaned over to return the favour, shoving Arel's t-shirt up as far as it would go, leaving it in a twisted bunch of cotton at the level of Arel's armpits for now.

His hands spread out against Arel's skin, flicking over a nipple, thumbs slipping under the bunched-up fabric to trace Arel's collar bones, then returning to pinch. Arel's stomach jumped as the light tickles moved lower. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin where Uriah's hands were not warming it. The wind had picked up a little. He pressed closer.

"Glad to see you are more enthusiastic today." Uriah commented as he reached the waistband, giving the belt buckle a little tug. The man's eyes roved over Arel, greedily drinking in every inch of exposed skin.

Arel grinned, squirming as the touch stayed light even as Uriah's fingers travelled over the firming bulge in his pants. "Yeah, the lack of an audience...not to mention the stunning scenery..." The last part was slightly muffled as he tried to pull off the t-shirt, getting stuck for a moment before pulling free with an impatient jerk of his arms. He pulled his belt free and dropped it, then closed the gap between them to kiss Uriah again. "...is a definite bonus."

If this were to go any further, they'd need something softer than stone, as smoothly polished by the tide as it was, so they slid back down the side onto the towel on the ground. Arel knew he would probably find sand in a lot of uncomfortable places later, but for now, it was good enough.

Their remaining clothing was added to the pile their shirts had started. Uriah pushed Arel onto his back into the sand and settled over him, running his hands down Arel's exposed body. The gritty texture under his back was a nice contrast to how impossibly smooth the skin of Uriah's hip felt, where Arel's hands had come to rest.

If he had not been so extremely horny by now, Uriah's caresses would have felt soothing to Arel, but the frissons of pleasure following in the wake of each touch took all of his attention. Uriah's hands were agile, flitting over his skin lightly first, then brushing more firmly, almost massaging over Arel's chest and sides. He wanted to return the favour, but right now, all he could do was lie there and offer encouraging noises while Uriah turned his brain to mush.

Just as Arel felt himself drift off into a pleasant, pleasure-fogged daze, Uriah changed gears. A hot breath gusting over his hip was his only warning, before Uriah's tongue painted a slick, meandering path from the crown of his cock down to the base. Uriah's cheek brushed him as the man mouthed the crease of his hip, then returned to retrace his path with little licks and sucks.

Arel bit the inside of his cheeks, then managed to pry his eyes back open in time to watch that hot mouth swallow him down. Uriah did not go down all the way, but the way he tongued the shaft made his head spin nonetheless.

Just as everything started to narrow down to that one point of pleasure, Arel's gut clenching, Uriah abandoned him to cold air.

Arel managed a strangled hiss in surprise, then nearly squeaked as Uriah's tongue slipped into his navel instead.

"Relax." Arel had a hard time following that particular bit of advice, his hips trying to buck up on their own with every teasing caress to the sensitive inside of his thigh, of fingertips dancing over his genitals.

Burying a hand in Uriah's hair, Arel hauled him up, close enough for a messy kiss. "You might want to get on with it, ‘less you want me to come alone." he growled at Uriah, hooking a leg over his hip to press their cocks together.

Uriah chuckled, but complied. He pressed a kiss to the corner of Arel's mouth, then hitched up his hips a bit higher to get at his rear. He caressed the cheeks, mapping out skin and muscles there, fingers digging into Arel's flesh as if he intended to continue with the earlier massage. It made Arel groan.

Arel started as he felt the press of small tube against his thigh, the plastic a bit chilly on his skin, then grinned up at Uriah. "Awfully sure of yourself, weren't you?"

"It would not have done to be caught unprepared."

Despite Arel's entreaties to ‘get on with it', Uriah took his time opening him up, slicked fingers flirting with his hole, the first few strokes quick and teasing. Arel clawed at his back, but that just earned him a quick bite, the sting softened by Uriah's tongue right away as the man explored leisurely.

"Are you holding out on me?" Arel panted, half-dizzy with what Uriah's hands were doing to him. A sharp twist of fingers brought him arching up against the older man, eyes wide. "Because- ah!"

"Yes?" The fingers stilled. Uriah was an evil, evil man. Arel considered biting him back.

"Cause I told you. I'm not made of glass." Arel slid his hands down Uriah's back, digging in his nails right over the tailbone. He pulled Uriah closer to grind them together. "C'mon. Do it."

Uriah let himself be pulled, biting Arel's lower lip, then kissing him deeply until Arel's head swam and he could not keep his eyes open any longer.

Uriah pulled out his fingers as he kissed Arel senseless, capturing his wrists and pressing them into the sand beside Arel's head instead, pushing Arel's leg's wide and stroking over his erection lightly.

Arel hissed out a breath at a new pressure opening him up, stroking his insides in time with the teasing touches on his cock, the touches that set his skin on fire, rubbing at one of his nipples, running down his side, caressing his cheek.

Wait.

Arel's eyes flew open. It took them a moment to focus on Uriah's face, the eyes gone dark in concentration. His expression was strangely blank, but that did not distract Arel long from what was writhing around them, practically crawling all over Arel.

Where did the squid come from? was his first thought, chased away by realisation that this was no squid, that the skin of those those sucker-less tentacles felt exactly like like Uriah's hands on him.

"Whoa- " For a moment, he was torn between incredulity and panic, then a thrust sent sparks skittering up Arel's spine and he forgot whatever he had wanted to say. The sound he made as Uriah did it again probably expressed all there needed to be said.

Breathing a chuckle into Arel's ear, Uriah sucked at the lobe, then slipped his tongue inside the shell, making Arel's breath catch. Arel could not help but tilt his head, giving Uriah more access. Found himself presented with another tentacle rubbing itself against his cheek and lips.

"Yes?" Uriah murmured, fingertips running over Arel's palms, interlocking their fingers.

"Uhm..." Arel took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Okay."

Because as freaky this was, it still felt good, the pleasure coiling in his guts making it hard to care about anything but getting fucked, hard and deep, even if it weren't the usual appendages that provided the fucking. And the amazing...well, tentacle-job.

The wave of pleasure that rolled through Arel was followed by a sharp surge of pain that started at his groin and spread outwards through his hips, as intense and blinding as the pleasure.

Arel came to with his face pressed into the crook of Uriah's neck. The man was drawing crooning at him in a way that was both soothing and vaguely creepy. Well. The man had been occasionally creepy from the very beginning and Arel had not let that stop him.

"What. What did you do?" Arel asked as he struggled to sit up, not doubting for a moment that whatever had just happened was entirely Uriah's fault.

Uriah took a look at Arel's befuddled expression, then took him by the shoulder and flipped Arel head-over-tail into the water. Arel thrashed, coming up sputtering. He had a tail. With a big, blue-green fin, to boot.

"You turned my ass into Nemo?!" Now that was the straw that broke the guppy's back! The water was too shallow to push himself completely upright, so he settled for glaring up at Uriah.

Uriah slithered closer, until his frontmost limbs draped from the edge of the rock, into the water. "I just helped the natural progression along a bit." he told Arel calmly.

"Natural? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Arel protested. "There is nothing natural about humans suddenly getting fishy parts!" He flapped his tail to emphasize, spraying Uriah with water.

"Oh, but you always had them. They were just hidden really well." Uriah absently wiped his face with a tentacle. "With the environment as it is, a lot of mer-people get raised on land nowadays."

Arel huffed, crunching up his eyebrows in disbelief. "Wait, so that was what you meant by ‘qualified'? The tail? The scales? You need people to be fishy to flirt with them?" Even if flirting was understating the case by now.

"And the gills." Uriah concurred. "I do want to take you home, after all."




~*~

"Nice place." Arel could not quite believe his eyes. This place - he supposed Uriah had dragged him to his home, secret lair, whatchamacallit - was completely different from what his imagination would have probably come up with, had he ever tried to imagine the dwelling of a deep sea tentacle monster.

The basic structure was a cave, all right. But the fluorescent light fixtures that studded the walls could have come from one of Ikea's more cracked-out lines and some of the furniture had clearly been dragged down from the surface. An ancient sea-chest reminiscent of many a pirate movie stood cheek-to-jowl with a steel-tubed bed frame. The blankets and pillows heaped on it could have been green-and-grey silk, or maybe some synthetic fibre, but Arel highly suspected they were made from something more dubious. Like sea grass. Like the living carpet was. Arel took care to stay away from that one.

Uriah came up from behind and wrapped himself around Arel. "I am glad it is to your liking."

Arel had been to stunned by recent developments to protest much as Uriah had dragged him down, underwater, and then the amazement of still being able to breathe, not to mention see in the lightless depths they had descended into had kept him occupied.

The thought that this was a hallucination caused by whatever drugs Uriah might have slipped him had crossed Arel's mind, but as weird as all of this was, he did not really believe that possibility. If anything, this was too weird for him to have come up with on his own.

"If you need anything, you must tell me." Uriah continued, turning Arel's head with two fingers at his jaw. "This is your home, too, now."

"Wait, what?" Arel disentangled himself from Uriah's coils with a little difficulty. Those tentacles were more than a bit too friendly. "Who decided that?"

Uriah looked at him, perplexed. "Are you saying you want to keep living on dry land?" he asked, mystified by Arel's reaction. His tentacles twitched, then drifted close to coil around Arel's waist and arms again. "But...it's so much better down here. No noisy machines, noboy who tells you what you can't do or say... "

"And you want to keep me here. All to yourself." It was kind of sweet, in a strangling way. Arel tried to tug his wrists free, but those tentacles were pretty strong. Uriah pulled him close.

Whatever one's opinion about tails and fins in general was, they were certainly good for dealing out a proper whack, Arel noticed with satisfaction. Uriah floundered for a moment, before one tentacle shot out to steady him against the wall.

"Look Uriah, I like you." God knew why, but it was true. "You're probably the cuddliest boyfriend I ever had, hell, you're the king of huggers."

"But?" Uriah asked, hovering at arm's reach but wary of further slaps.

"I have a life up there. And while I couldn't care less about the incredibly tedious job at the grocery store or my crotchety old neighbor who thinks I'm the devils get, I'm not willing to abandon my friends." Arel crossed his arms, keeping his distance.

Uriah's various limbs visibly drooped. Arel sighed. "I'm not saying we can't be together. Or that I hate it here. But if you want me, you'll have to deal with the dry land parts, too." He reached out and patted a limp tentacle. "Do you think you can live with that?" Uriah ventured a smile. Arel opened his arms.

In the blink of an eye, Uriah had reeled him in again, tentacles moving with purpose over his skin. "I guess I will have to make most of that." Uriah's expression turned wicked. "You have got to learn a lot, my dear."

~*~

Arel, having been sat on the living room couch by Eirik with the threat that any attempt at escape without a proper explanation would be met with dire consequences, sighed. "Look, I'm really sorry. " he told Liv, who was attempting to to tower over him. Even with Arel sitting, she did not cut a very impressive figure.

"So he's your boyfriend now, and that's why you didn't call even once during the whole weekend?" she demanded. Liv reached down and poked him in the chest. "Do you know how worried we were? Learn to use a phone!"

"Yes, Mom." Arel ducked the swat aimed at his head.

"Huh, I wouldn't have pegged him as the clingy type." Iven leaned on the back of the couch. Arel tilted his head back to look at him. "Didn't let you get out of bed to reach the phone, did he?"

Arel snorted. "Yeah, he's a regular octopus."

As Liv started to chortle, Arel allowed himself a private grin. If only they knew.

The End.


Bonus Episode: The marvelous adventures of Chickenfish

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