Finfolk

 

Waves lapped against the rocky shore where gulls circled, floating slowly down to the churning water. Little boats were tied to small docks. They rocked back and forth, empty in the morning fog. It had been days since anyone had dared to leave the small village whose shores had once beamed with fish.

I peered over the edge of the boat into the murky cold water below. Fish stirred, pausing in their swimming only to jut ahead, moving away from a shadow I could not see. There was plenty of life in the sea. The village hadn’t stayed away because there was no food. No storms had assaulted the shore. Nothing was out of place save the absence of fishers on the sea surface.

The rocky outcropping I sat on was in the middle of the bay. From the few accounts I had heard, it was here that they had seen the creatures but a week ago. Since then they had taken to their homes, hiding from the beasts they saw within the water’s depths. I could feel their eyes on me from their small homes, barely able to note my silhouette in the fog.

Sunlight couldn’t break the mist. The world stayed grey and grim, moody clouds rolling in to cover what little light the sun could provide. In the grim daylight, I shifted on the rock, resting my bare feet on the stone below where water splashed playfully against its rough surface. Fish now and then darted nearer, curious at the toes I let sit in the water, before swimming away whenever I moved.

A smile touched my lips at their strange playfulness. Yet they scattered when a large shadow moved in the frigid water. Its head broke the surface, large black eyes looking at me from a round face. The seal snorted, nostrils flaring open. It bobbed, staring at me as I watched it, mouth opening to reveal large teeth and a goofy smile.

“You can’t be what they’re all afraid of…” I murmured, shifting to kneel on the rocks so that I was nearly level with the seal.

My head tilted, eyeing the seal up for signs that it was a selkie. “You’re just a touch too small.”

The seal barked, booming voice echoing through the mist. Its head turned, nostrils closing as it lowered into the water. The round eyes grew wide. I turned my head, glancing into the mist where it stared in fascination and fear. 

Nothing was there save the rolling misty air. The gulls went quiet, landing atop the rocks, suddenly avoiding the water. The seal disappeared, moving below the surface and vanishing from my sight. An eerie quiet spread over the bay, leaving me alone with the mist and the waves.

On the horizon, the mist broke, as though raveling within itself to reveal the grey shape of an island. My brows knit together. There was no island, not for miles. Yet there it sat, clear as day. From the mist came a single boat and in the little fisher boat stood a man, tall and broad, with hard eyes and a sharp scowl.

His boat moved with purpose though he did not row it himself. Suddenly I knew that the villagers were afraid of him. My instinct told me to turn and climb back up the cliff to get away from the water’s edge. It was a human instinct. It was the instinct I most often ignored.

The fisherman moved closer, deliberately aiming for where I knelt on the rock, my skirt drawn up to sit in a knot in my lap. I didn’t bother to move or stand. Instead, I waited until he was close enough I could hear him over the waves and I raised my hand in greeting. 

“Well met, sailor. You seem to be braving the ocean when no other will.”

A sly grin touched his lips. “You do not seem afraid.”

“It’s just water,” I replied easily, dangling my fingers into the cool fluid. “What’s there to be afraid of?”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Can never trust suspicious villagers. A shadow will frighten them.”

“Is that what you are?” I asked, raising a brow. “A shadow?”

The fisherman scoffed, waving a hand. Between his fingers webbing sat, connecting them for swimming. He pulled it away, digging it into the coat pocket when my eyes caught sight of it.

“If not a shadow, then what? They’re afraid and you aren’t. So either you know something I don’t about what lurks in these waters or…” I paused, pulling my hand from the water to rest in my lap. “You are what lurks in these waters.”

His boat drew nearer, inching closer to me with each passing moment. “What makes you think I know anything about the finfolk?” he asked.

“I didn’t mention the finfolk.” I blinked, trying to recall what I had heard of their people. “Is that Hildaland?”

The man finally chuckled. “What do you know of it?”

“I want to see it,” I replied without hesitating. Finally, I stood. He was no more than an arms reach from me. 

A strange look passed on his face. “Your kind is not to see it.”

“Oh?” I moved, stepping into his boat. It teetered precariously before steadying, though he didn’t move to keep it afloat.

“You’re brazen.”

“What are you going to do about it?” I smirked, moving closer to him, touching the fishing coat he wore over his broad frame. 

The man paused, watching my face. “Are you hoping for a husband? Is that why you’re out here?”

I gently tugged the coat open, revealing the strange form beneath. He didn’t flinch nor stop me but kept his intense gaze on my face as I slid my hand beneath the fabric, brushing the fins that lay blow. They draped over his body as clothing would on a human, beautiful and sharp. 

His eyes widened, just slightly, when I didn’t flinch away. “I’m not the marrying type,” I finally replied, looking up at his inhuman eyes. They barely moved but stayed intensely focused on my face. “But I can pretend to be a bride if that’s what thrills you.”

The finman raised a brow, glancing at my lingering hand that slowly slid down until it caressed the wet flesh of his hip. He shivered, scales pressing against my hand and leaving behind faint slick wetness. I stroked lower, sliding near his inner thigh, and he let out a soft gasp.

“Can I?” I asked, pressed against him in his little boat.

The finfolk gave a nod. My hand moved to his hardness, taking it in my hand and gently caressing. The same slime-like substance covered his length and let him slide in my hand easily. Each stroke made him shudder, mouth opening to show jagged teeth. The smell of fish and the sea rose from his flesh, filling my nostrils as the small boat rocked from my movements.

“Lay down,” I murmured to him, slowly stepping back to give him room. 

He shifted, letting the coat fall from his frame to show the finned body beneath. He was pale, with a strong body and sharp features. Fins covered him, acting as clothing would on a mortal, thin and translucent in the low light. He moved without grace in the boat, though his strength gave him a strange sense of control as he lowered himself down, legs on either side of me, fins glistening.

“You’re beautiful.” I knelt between his legs, hands taking his engorgement and beginning to gently stroke. He was surprisingly thick and long, somewhere between human and wholly something else. It twitched and moved with its own intentions, nearly tentacle-like, reaching up for me and caressing my bottom lip with need.

I lowered my head, tongue meeting the tip of his length and sending a gasp from his lips. Scaly fingers slid through my hair, holding but never tugging. “Please,” he whispered. “Please. I beg you.”

“Beg me what?” I asked, tongue dancing over the length of his shaft before swirling around the tip. 

Fingers grasped the side of the boat and hips bucked. “Yes. That. Please? More…” 

Each word was spastic and difficult for him to say. The human visage he held fell away, the pale skin showing the glimmering white and green scales beneath. Eyes bright yellow as any fish’s would be. The webbed fingers became slimy, the texture of wet fish. His head lifted, strange eyes staring into my own, as I opened my mouth and pulled him within.

My head moved, bobbing up and down, feeling the wriggling appendage within my mouth and throat. I moaned against him, the taste of living fish and ocean water sliding over my tongue. The tentacle curled and moved, as though seeking an entrance to fill and exploring deeper in my throat on its journey. 

Slippery fluid gently rose from the tip, lubricating the passage and filling my mouth with an oily substance that tasted of earth and brine. His hips moved, thrusting that length up into me further, its searching tip venturing ever further. I moaned on his length, letting it explore for long lingering minutes as our boat wandered further and further from shore.

He cried out, fingers gripping my head. I pulled back as he cried out in frustration. His eyes stared at me in disbelief and shock, length twitching and searching for the wet home it had had but a moment ago. 

“Why?” he whispered, hoarse and sallow.

I pulled my skirts up and moved to stand above him. “Because I’m not done with you yet, husband.”

He gripped my hips, pulling me down atop him. The sliding length moved upward and found a home, pushing inward and deep. It was my turn to give a moan and shudder as our bodies met, his thick length barely fitting within. I began to slowly grind against him, sending jolts of pleasure through my core with each rotation.

The finman dug his fingers into my hips, sliding me upwards until our faces nearly met. “Ride me, wife,” he growled and pushed back on my thighs, back down atop his writhing hardness. It pushed up in me with renewed vigor, suddenly harder and thicker, ropey slime stretching between us as I rose and moved down atop him over and over.

Our bodies slammed against each other, rocking the boat viciously as it lead us out to sea. Water sprayed across my face as the waves pushed against the wooden sides, splashing us both as we moved. His hands roamed my body, gripping and pulling, eagerness and pleasure in every gesture.

Moans filled the air around us, nearly swallowed by the mist and the churning water. A storm brewed on the horizon, building in pressure and size as our ecstasy did. He thrust upward, hard and fast, pushing into me as his hardness grew and my body stretched to fit his growing lust. Never a kiss was shared between us, just grunted commands and animalistic language I knew but could never speak again.

Electric pleasure grew in my core, sending jolts of delight through my body until I cried out and exploded inward, waves of lust and delight spilling outward. I shuddered atop him, muscles tight and throbbing, as he gripped me and pulled me down atop him, hips moving to keep thrusting inward. The curling chaos of his length pulsed within me and then twitched and writhed, spewing his seed in thick ropey ooze that coated our hips.

I gasped, sagging against him our bodies shuddered together. My head rested on his chest while I felt the tentacle within me slowly began to soften and gently slid out. The boat hit a rock, knocking us out of our reverie. 

The island loomed above, filled with a small village that could not be seen from the land. My brows furrowed. People milled about, children ran between them, part human, part finfolk. They laughed and traded their goods, gardened and farmed… 

I laughed softly. “You didn’t actually kidnap any of them, did you?”

He shifted, holding me against him as he sat up. “There is safety in fear.”

I glanced at his face, leaning back enough to look into his eyes. “Clever. Humans are gullible if nothing else.”

“Will you stay, wife?” A small grin touched his lips.

My eyes looked at the happy, thriving community, safely tucked away from the mortals we all had come to fear. “I will. But I won’t marry you.”

He kissed my lips, slow and languidly, the first embrace of many. “They don’t need to know that.”