A/N: to be completely honest, I wrote this one for myself after fantasizing a little too much during closing shift at work one night, but I feel bad that I haven’t posted on here in so long, I guess I’ll give you lovelies some smut too ;)

               Working at the Mini Mart wasn’t half that bad of a gig. You got paid above a minimum wage and picked up shifts between taking courses at the community college. Between groceries and rent, you still had a little bit to spoil yourself with, and you got benefits like dental and vision. Again, not half that bad. But the other half, the part that was bad, was the people. Not only did you get bitchy moms and irritated elderly folk, but creepy old men who loved to toy with you. They would make disgusting comments or lean in for an undesired kiss, hit on you and ask you on a date, even sometimes inquire your manager about your relationship status. Once in a while a halfway decent guy your age would come in, and you’d twirl your hair around and bat your eyelashes to have a little fun, and it would end in a hook up or a night out for dinner, but that was all. People always came and went, in one door and out the other, just customers, just business. You never remembered many faces, they all seemed to look the same after several months passed, even the regulars were simple nods and waves. But the day he came in, oh god, you would never forget it.

               Tuesday shift, late evening, the time when most came in to buy either booze or cigarettes. As your manager called it, nine p.m. was the addiction hour, and he wasn’t half that wrong. A couple lonely people coming in for a DVD rental and a bucket of ice cream, others snagging a twenty-four pack of beer or some smokes. Young couples, old veterans, middle aged burn outs, some teenagers on a snack run… You were wiping down the belts with some cleaner spray when you looked up and saw him coming down the aisle and your face flushed. Messy but fluffy dark hair, plump lips, slight stubble, leather jacket and ripped jeans, ring adorned fingers carrying a sizable bag of chips, a case of beer, and a small bottle of painkillers. “You open?” he raises an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side to get a better look.

               Still flustered, you falter before nodding eagerly. “Uh y-yeah, of course!” you quickly slip your spray bottle and box of paper towels under your stand, wiping your palms on your apron, looking up as he approaches and places his items on the moving belt. He’s quite attractive, you can’t help but blush even harder. “Find everything okay?”

               “Sure,” he simpers, glancing up at you and widening his smile. “All the essentials, right?”

               “Of course,” you give a small bit of laughter, placing his chips and painkillers in a bag, then looking up at him. “Total comes to eighteen dollars and twenty-six cents.”

               “Oh, and can I get a couple cigars?” he wonders and you gaze up at him, thinking hell, you’d give him anything he wanted.

               “Definitely,” you turn back to the display case full of selections and produce the small key from your pocket, opening up the glass door and waiting for his selection.

               “Those ones are good,” he agrees before you take out a couple and relock the case, ringing them up and then handing them to him, watching from the corner of your eye as he swipes his card in the machine. You want to so badly ask him something, try to carry on the conversation, but it’s so hard to when there’s nothing to go off of. As much as you hate to admit it, he’s supposed to be just another customer to you.

               “Have a great day,” you force a pained smile upon your face knowing you’ll probably never see him again as you hand him his receipt and his bag, those ring adorned fingers taking it from you gratefully. You quickly make note of the way he doesn’t sport a wedding band.

               “You too, darling,” he shoots you a wink and you think you might as well just die right then and there.

               He’s turning on his heels and headed towards the door when guilt pangs at your side and you can’t help but muster a finagled cry. “Wait!” you call out for him and he turns around, confused and attentive, panic seizing your entire being. What the fuck were you doing? Think quick! You sputter out the first thing that comes to mind. “Have you heard about our rewards program?”

               “Hmm?” he stops and looks at you, case of beer and purchases still in hand, unsure of where this prolonged interaction was leading.

               “The store, we’re offering these new rewards programs, you sign up and you get a card and some points…” the more you ramble on the more awkward you realize it’s getting. “I just, I don’t know, I thought you might be interested before you left. Probably should’ve mentioned it before you paid for your things, I just didn’t…” You stop rambling as he walks closer, placing his items on the counter, smirking.

               “Rewards program?” he asks.

               “Yeah, yeah,” you look down, now embarrassed. “I don’t know, we’re required to ask but I forgot and I thought-”

               “No, go on, I’m interested,” he seems to pierce your gaze with those dark brown eyes.

               “So, you call this number on the back of the card and give them your information,” you begin the spiel you’ve been trained, kicking yourself in the ass all the while for realizing how stupid of an attempt you were making wasting this poor attractive man’s time.

               “Y/n,” his eyes flicker down to your name tag and he stifles a chuckle. “If it’s not too rude to be honest here, this really isn’t about the rewards program is it?”

               “Well,” you try to catch yourself, halfway realizing just how much of a dumbass you really are. You don’t even know his name and you’re already at his heels trying to catch whatever he’ll throw at you.

               “Don’t think I didn’t catch your interest,” he purses his lips, amused. “I noticed the blush on your cheeks and the stutter in your greeting.” He smiles, not nervous in the slightest. He’s confident and cocky. You like it. “You’re fond of me, aren’t you?”

               “I guess,” you admit shyly, still embarrassed. “I mean, I just thought you’re quite handsome, that’s all. Had me a little flustered there.”

               “You aren’t too bad yourself, darling,” he praises. “What time you off tonight? If it’s not too late, and it’s alright with you, I’d be more than happy to buy you a drink.”

               “Yeah?” you seem surprised.

               “Of course,” he insists. “Pretty little lady like you working late shift? I’m sure you could use a drink or two once you get off.”

               “I’m here until eleven,” you offer. “I can give you my number?”

               “Sounds good,” he smiles.

               Still in a daze, you reach for a scrap of receipt paper and scrawl down your digits, handing it to him and telling him you’ll see him in a few. Your eyes are still glued on him as he walks out the door and the next customer approaches, wondering how the hell your feeble attempt at scoring a date with the most handsome stranger you’ve ever seen in your life went so goddamn well.

               The rest of your shift you’re glancing at the clock counting the hours and minutes until you get to rush home and change into a cute little outfit and meet that man once again. “Brendon. By the way,” is what the text reads from the unknown number on your cell phone. You’re off your shift and making you way to your car when you see it. “If you’re still up for it, corner pub downtown or crash at my place? Your call.”

               “Is your place too soon?” you dare to ask but he quickly argues.

               “No such thing as too soon or too much when it comes to me, sweetheart,” he quips. The way he calls you nicknames makes you practically swoon.

               You throw on a sweater and some leggings, restyle your hair, and touch up your makeup before heading out the door, restless until you see his face again. Brendon is the name had given you. You can’t stop thinking about his eyes, or his lips, or the way he calls you darling. You barely even know him and you’re practically obsessed. It’s probably unhealthy. Definitely unhealthy. You can’t help it.

               “Look who pulled through,” his lips spread into a smile when he sees you at his door, loose shirt and ripped jeans, beer in hand. “Make yourself at home, love.”

               “Thanks,” you feel your heart flutter in your chest already as you enter.

               He grabs a beer from the fridge and hands it to you as you sit down on the couch, noting the art that adorns the walls and the several guitars propped up against the sofas and tables. There’s a couple notebooks scattered about alongside empty beer bottles and cigarette stubs. “I have whiskey if you’re into harder liquor,” he offers as he takes a seat beside you, eyes flittering up and down, drinking you in. “Or we can save that for later if you’d like.”

               “Either way,” you shrug, still in a daze at his appearance. He would’ve fooled you if he wasn’t a model of some sort.

               “I’m surprised at your brazenness,” he admits. “First time a girl has ever tried to win my interest. Usually the other way around.”

               “So you weren’t intrigued by me?” you tease, taking a sip of your beer to hide the possible disappointment, glancing at him for an answer.

               “Oh honey, I would be a liar to say you didn’t catch my eye,” he insists. “Just didn’t wish to disrespect or be a bother, you being at work and all.”

               “You could bother me anytime,” you find yourself confessing aloud, a bit shocked at yourself for admitting it to him. You take a couple more swigs. “God, if we’re being honest, I’d probably beg you to bother me.”

               “Really now?” he pursues. “You like to beg? Because I love a girl who will beg for me.” He chuckles and looks at you for a vibe check, wondering how you’d take his teasing, and you find yourself involuntarily biting your lip. You don’t even need alcohol to loosen up around him. Just one look and you’ve practically come undone.

               “To tell the truth,” you find yourself turning bright red at the revelation. “I’d probably do anything for you.”

               “You’ve just met me, darling,” he caresses your face, fingers tilting your chin up to look at him, and you think you might just melt. Your heart is racing as he sets his bottle down on the coffee table and leans in towards you. “I’m practically a stranger.”

               “You’re just so fucking charming though,” you can’t help but whimper. “I can’t help it.”

               “Weak already?” he smirks and you feel your insides turn to mush and his lips are barely brushing against yours. “You almost make it too easy.”

               “Well,” you find yourself chuckling, eyes flickering up to meet his. “Would hate to make anything hard on you now, wouldn’t I?”

               He kisses you and pushes you back into the sofa, causing you to drop your bottle of beer onto the carpet but you couldn’t care less at this point. He’s all you want and more. You’re against the cushions and he’s on top of you, his lean frame parallel to yours, lips soft and warm, hands finding their way to yours, interlocking fingers as his tongue finds his way into your mouth. He tastes oddly sweet, something you wouldn’t expect from a man, but you love it all the same. His hands trail down to your breasts and squeeze them softly, your fingers getting lost in his hair, and his mouth is on your neck. You’re giving breathy moans as he sucks on your skin, grazing it with his teeth, one of his hands working further down to cup your ass and then grab it tight. You want nothing more than for him to be inside of you.

               “You’re so goddamn perfect baby,” he groans, moving both his hands down to squeeze your ass, and you let out a soft moan of his name.

               “Fuck me, god please just fuck me,” you whine. “That’s all I want, Brendon, please.”

               “I can make that happen,” he purrs into your ear, tugging down at your leggings and helping your work them off of your ankles. While you work on untangling them off of you he’s stripping off his shirt, tossing it to the ground, and you stare at his perfect build in awe. You’re so distracted you almost don’t anticipate for when his hand presses in between your legs, and you can’t help it, you’re tossing your head back in surprise, pleading for more. It’s like this man has owned you his entire life and all you’ve ever wanted is him to touch you in that perfect place. He’s a drug. You can’t get enough.

               His fingers run up and down your folds, proving just how wet you already are for him, before he inserts a finger, pumping in and out slowly before adding a second, curling deep inside you and rocking in and out, making you bury your head into the crook of his neck. “Feels so good, fuck,” you shudder as his thumb struggles to find your clit before rolling frantic circles, drawing you to your edge.

               “Shhh, not yet darling, not yet,” he soothes, drawing his hand away, your shaking body still craving his touch. “Want you to cum around my cock, yeah?”

               “Please,” you beg, tears almost in your eyes. You would do anything for this man. Really. “I want you inside of me so fucking bad, please, fuck me.”

               “Anything for you,” he kisses you roughly as he works at his jeans, shoving them down and kicking them off before spreading your legs open with his hands, lifting his hips up and aligning his cock with your entrance, slicking his head up with your wetness.

               “God stop teasing,” you whine, bucking your hips up and he presses them down into the cushions softly.

               “Patience, babygirl,” he hushes, still teasing you with the head of his cock. “Want you to really want it.”

               “I do,” you reassure, practically squirming in his hands. “I want it so fucking bad, Brendon, I don’t know why but I need it, I need it so bad-” You’re a blubbering mess and you’re begging so fast and so desperately when he pushes into you it’s pure ecstasy.

               He’s thick and long and oh so perfect, stretching you out good as he sinks deeper inside of you, making your head spin, rocking out slightly just to push back in fully this time, earning a gasp out from between your lips. “Jesus baby, you’re so wet and so tight for me, fuck…” he groans, resting his head against yours, waiting a moment as he settles inside you, then lifting back up and starting to pick up a pace. “Shit, you feel so good. So fucking good.”

               “Please,” you find yourself digging your nails into his biceps.

               He withdraws back and pushes in again, hands on your shoulders, going harder and harder, making your head spin. It feels so fucking good you find yourself wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing himself deeper inside of you. He fucks you hard and rough, until he lets out a panted “turn around” once he pulls out, and you do so, propping yourself up on your knees, ass up for him, face down. You feel his cock press up against your heat and slide in once again, this time a new angle and new position, stretching you out even more, sliding in even deeper.

               “Jesus, don’t stop baby,” you moan as he gets into a rhythm, hands moving from grabbing your ass to pulling on your shoulders for leverage, tugging at your hair, digging into your hips, trying to find the perfect way to fuck you roughly. You arch your back up slightly and feel him hit that sweet spot, making you moan into the sofa, legs fixed around his, hips bucking back and forth onto his cock. It feels so good it’s like you’ve never been fucked in your whole entire life before.

There’s a moment where he groans, low and deep, the kind of noise that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head in bliss, and he just goes at it, fucking you as fast as his hips allow him to, pushing deep and hard and rough. You sink your fingernails into the fabric of his sofa, head pressed against the cushions, gasping for air between your lips. His hands are gripping your ass so hard you hope to god he leaves fingerprints, and with each pant and groan coming from behind you know he’s working his way closer and closer. It’s sending you towards the brink of pure ectasy.

               "Please,“ you beg, barely even audible, but you know he hears you because he keeps going harder. "Please, fuck Brendon, please-”

               "But I don’t know if you’re, I’m not-“ he begins to protest, faltering for a moment but you shake your head.

               "It’s okay, please just, I want it. I need it. Come inside me,” you implore and that’s all it takes. “Fuck, please just come inside of me.”

               He’s thrusting sporadically, his breathy moans getting louder and more strained, and there’s one final push before he groans and his chest falls onto your back, his hands grasping at your breasts, legs buckling into the backs of your knees, and you feel it. He comes inside of you, the heat flooding your core, hot and thick and full, making you bury your face into the sofa, moans muffled by the fabric. His hips buck up a couple times, draining whatever is left inside of you, and then he pulls out, the liquid starting to drip from your folds, and he scoops you up, laying by your side and pressing a kiss to your forehead before picking you up completely, putting you ontop of him.

               "Fuck, that felt so good,“ you sigh, raising your head to kiss him on the lips, and he deepens it, his tongue pressing against yours, warm and rich. "Thank you.”

               "Thank you,“ he responds, humming, stroking his fingers through your hair as you rest your head on his chest, both of you struggling to catch your breath. "God that felt fucking fantastic, I don’t, I don’t ever think I’ve ever come that hard, shit…” He lets out a short breathy laughter and then sighs, pressing a kiss against your head, playing with your hair for a bit before running his fingertips down your back. “I don’t um, I don’t want to pressure you into anything but would you-”

               "We are soooo fucking again,“ you finish for him, and you both chuckle, his lips smirking against your forehead.

               "Okay, good to know we’re on the same page,” he responds with a laugh. “God you’re- you’re breathtaking, y/n. Fucking gorgeous.”

               "As are you,“ you responded sleepily, although part of you craved more. Your fingertips traced circles on his chest, thinking for a moment, before you raised your head, looking at him, sly smile on your lips. "You know… I don’t have work tomorrow…”

               "Yeah?“ he raised an eyebrow, curious.

               "Yeah,” you drew your bottom lip in between your teeth, nodding. “I have all night. And all morning.”

               "We,“ he corrected, grabbing your ass, making you shudder. "We have all night.”

               "Whatever you say,“ you tell him, pressing a kiss to his lips, closing your eyes. When you pull away you whisper. "I’m all yours.”

Miss Me? - Brendon Urie x Reader

((NSFW!!! smut, cheating, heavy coercion, love-bombing and “i love you”, praise, daddy kink, breeding, pregnancy mention, blowjob, face fucking, fingering, unprotected sex obviously, cuddles))

Author’s Note: I know this blog is pretty much a ghost town, I rarely post anymore and I’m sorry about that! My life has been so crazy and busy but if you’d like to know what I’m up to nowadays you can always follow me on Instagram at @insomniacauden :) I’m going to be completely honest with you, this fanfic was written 100% out of self-indulgence, but after consulting with a friend, she encouraged me to upload it in any chance you might also enjoy. Very much Saudade vibes, the reader is cheating on her long-term boyfriend Josh Dun with the ever-so-tempting Brendon Urie. There are a lot of continuity errors written simply to fit my own personal narrative, but just ignore it or assume it’s up for your own interpretation lol. I love and miss you all, and for new readers who have no idea what the fuck I’m rambling on about, ignore this long ass prologue and just enjoy!!!

Moonlight seeped through the edges of your curtains, illuminating your figure that laid in bed. Wrapped in blankets, eyelids fluttered to a close, chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath, you slept in peace. Living alone was quiet, mundane, and sometimes lonely, but it brought about a certain serenity throughout your home. There was little to no disturbance, you stayed up in a studio apartment in New York City all on your own, didn’t have many guests or visitors, and mostly kept to yourself. Your boyfriend lived on the other side of the country, recording songs and playing shows for millions of kids across the nation. Sure, you loved him, and wanted more than anything to be with him, but for now you needed space. You were working on finishing up your college degree and he was writing an album with his best friend. You were both success driven and had agreed your relationship needed to be put on pause for the sake of your careers.

Josh was pretty great as far as boyfriends go, he was attentive and caring, but also outgoing and charming all the same. His hair color changed as often as the seasons, his face adorned with an array of piercings, limbs decorated in vibrant tattoos, and a smile that could light up the room- he was irresistible, really. Most would call it love at first sight, but you just called it destiny. Despite any of your arguments or insecurities, everything always worked out in the end, and your relationship became stronger than ever. His best friend Tyler had described you as the best thing that had ever happened to him, especially after his last brutal breakup, and his mother constantly joked that you two were conjoined at the hip. So going long distance for the first time since you two had started the relationship was definitely rough, especially when conflicting time zones were involved.

You felt a dip in the mattress behind you, and you sighed softly, slightly stirring in your sleep. “Hmm?” you began to flutter your eyes open when you felt the sheets rise up and fall back down, a warm figure behind you, their body pressing up against yours. “Josh, is that you?” You wouldn’t know who else it could possibly be. Still intoxicated with slumber, you assumed perhaps your boyfriend had flown the distance to see you because he had missed you, a surprise perhaps, but it was the voice who responded that scared you more.

“You couldn’t possibly think it was really him, could you?” a deep gravely voice chuckled from behind you, sliding his hand over your bare hip and gripping it tightly, holding you firmly in place as he pressed up against you more, his plump lips grazing against your ear as he whispered.

“B-Brendon?” you stammered and he instantly tightened his grip around your waist, making you freeze.

“Miss me?” he responded coyly and you instantly shoved his hand off your waist, turning around in bed, any sleepiness within you now drained from your system. Here he was, only centimeters from you, barely clothed in your bed, dark hair and even darker eyes alluring you. You hadn’t thought of him in months. You could have sworn you locked the door. Thoughts raced in your mind as you doubted whether or not this was even real.

“What are you doing here?” you inquired, terrified and infatuated all the same. His lips looked so big and pink and soft, his eyes warm and inviting, his hair tousled and messy, the five o’clock shadow outlining his jaw- you wanted nothing more than to touch him. No. That was wrong. You had to defend yourself, defend him. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Do you now?” Brendon mused. “I don’t seem to see him around.”

“He’s in Ohio,” you struggled to respond, muscling through the lump caught in your throat. “Recording the album with Tyler.”

“Ah…” he drew out the reaction slowly, eyes flickering down to your lips before arriving above to meet your gaze again. “That’s a shame, I had assumed you would have been a priority. I always had thought you to be.”

“I am,” you insisted, but he closed his eyes, shaking his head ever so slightly, hiding a dangerous sort of smile.

“Darling, if you were, it would be him in this bed right now instead of me,” he argued, reaching a hand up to touch your cheek.

“This is wrong…” you attempted to look away, breaking from his gaze, but his fingers caught your chin and lifted your face to remain poised across from his.

“You don’t really think he’s going to stick around, now do you?” he dared to ask, gaze piercing yours. “He’s simply going to hurt you, going to leave, going to break your heart just like all the boys you’ve loved before. They all come and go, darling. Each and every one of them. Even Josh.” His face leaned in close to yours, nose brushing the top of your lip before nudging upwards, his warm breath against your mouth, barely pressing into a kiss. “But you know I’ll always be here. From before your first boyfriend to after your very last, I’ll always love you. I’ll never leave.”

Without thinking, you closed your eyes and pressed your lips up against his, just to entertain the thought of the sensation of his mouth on yours. His body instantly gravitated towards you, the warmth of his chest radiating into you, the mess of your legs slowly becoming tangled together, his hands reaching behind your head to pull you closer to him. His tongue parted your lips and slowly entered, sliding against your tongue, an indescribable wave of heat flooding over you. You had never done anything like this with Brendon, only temptations of the idea lingering in your dreams as you thought of the man who seemed to follow wherever you went. Brendon was like a shadow in your mind, always with you, always watching, ready to be there whenever you needed him. But you didn’t need him now, did you?

Slowly reeling back into your senses, you faltered, pulling away, and he pressed his palms into the small of your back, almost as if physically pleading. “Bren…” your voice trailed off now and you pressed your lips together, silently cursing yourself for even kissing him, caught in a war between yourself. You shut your eyes tight, almost hoping he would disappear once you reopened them. He didn’t.

“You want this, y/n. I know you do,” he murmured, fingertips barely grazing against your spine, making you tremble. He was so warm, and inviting, those eyes boring into you, almost entrancing.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t,” you confessed through a mumble, trying to look for an answer within his gaze, but finding none. Guilt coursed through your body, eating you alive.

“I would tell you that he doesn’t need to know,” Brendon begins, dipping his hand down the small of your back into the fabric of your panties, eliciting a gasp when he squeezes your ass tight, sinking his fingernails into your flesh. “But truthfully, maybe he does. It would speed up the process, perhaps he could break up with you now, save you the heartbreak to come later.”

Flinching at his words, you paused, guilt panging in your heart. “D-do you really think that?” you inquired hesitantly. “That he’s going to leave me?”

“Oh darling, if he wasn’t before, he definitely is going to now,” he simply laughs, giving your ass another squeeze as he lower his mouth to your ear and his voice to a growl. “Especially after I fuck a baby into that tight little pussy of yours.”

Both your eyes go wide, an immediate warmth rushing to your core. “Brendon I… I really don’t think… I’m not on any… You shouldn’t-” you stammer, rendered speechless, unable to process what he’s told you.

“Oh, but I am,” he croons, his low voice making your body quiver as he holds you in place. “I’m going to fuck your pretty face, and then after you get my cock nice and hard and wet with your sweet sloppy little tongue, then I’ll pound that pussy until I’ve worked myself so deep inside of you, I just can’t bring myself to pull out.”

“What about J-Josh?” you frantically tried to read his gaze and he seemed almost amused.

“What about Josh?” he tossed the question back at you coyly. “All that talk of breeding you and he never really did, did he? Empty promises I presume, among many others.”

“I’m not ready to be pregnant,” you argue, voice wavering with uncertainty. “T-that’s why we never- I never let him-”

“Ah but you wanted it, didn’t you?” Brendon mused, running his hand up and down the length of your back, dark eyes boring into you. “Deep down, I know how desperately you wanted it. Just like you want this.”

“Just because you want something doesn’t mean you should have it,” you swallowed roughly, trying to pull yourself back into reality, though his touch alone was simply intoxicating.

“But you deserve it, love,” he insisted with a chaste kiss to the forehead. “I want to be able to give you something you’ve never had, something nobody else has been able to give you, something…” He stops, searching for the right words, his lips pursed together in concentration. “Something that is proof of my love for you.”

“I know you love me, Bren,” you whispered, reaching a hand up to caress his face. “You don’t ever need to prove that to me, you know.”

“I know,” he resonated slowly. “But I want to.”

“Well…” you hesitated, and he began to bring his lips back again towards yours.

“It’s a question of desire, darling. And I desire nothing but you.”

He was right. He always had. All your other relationships, including the one you had with Josh, it contained history. Messy, brutal, heart wrenching confessions and catastrophes of all the people they have had a taste of before, messily carved into the bedpost, keeping some sort of score in the back of your mind, a constant comparison. But with Brendon, it was never like that. There hadn’t even seemed to be some sort of beginning, nor end, no past, or future. The mutual desire between the two of you simply always had been, there was no question about it. And despite whomever you had lured into your bed or perhaps crawled into theirs, at the end of the day, Brendon was always waiting for you. You almost owed it to him.

“Why?” you dared yourself to ask aloud. “Why are you always still here? Even after I choose everyone but you?”

“Because, love…” his eyes softened as he brushed his thumb against your cheek. “I was made for you.”

Staring up at him, the heat of your bodies pressed up against each other underneath your sheets, you seemed to be at war with yourself. One part of you, your brain, was screaming that you had already done plenty wrong and you needed to stop before things progressed worse. But the other part of you, your body, it felt ever so drawn towards Brendon, a certain craving as though you’ve never needed anything in your life more desperately than this. You bit your lower lip, eyes grazing over his features, noting the dark lust in his expression and his parted lips waiting for another kiss. Suddenly, you felt a certain wetness dripping between your legs and your mind seemed to go blank. “What do I need to do to please you?” you exhaled.

“There’s my good girl,” his soft smile broke out into a mischievous grin. “Kiss me, darling.”

And so you did. Leaving all your inhibitions and reservations behind, you devoured his lips, the taste of whiskey and peppermint and nicotine and something sultry on his tongue now seeping onto yours. His mouth trailed onto your jaw and down to your neck, causing you to tilt your head up, sighs spilling from your lips as he sucked at your skin, nipping slightly with his teeth, somehow situating himself above you. Instinctually, you parted your legs and he rested his hips between yours, and you gasped once you felt his length press against your core. The friction alone was almost enough to make you come. “Brendon…” you whimpered as he began to grind against you, leaving hickeys down your neck, kissing down towards your breasts.

“Take this off,” he ordered, tugging up at your loose shirt, and so you swiftly did, leaving yourself in nothing but your panties now. He slowly drank you in, rough palms making their way up your sides as he scooped your chest inwards, squeezing hard at your tits and a smile slowly creeping at the corner of his lips as he pinched your nipples. His eyes flickered up to yours.

“What?” you suddenly became self-conscious, worried something was wrong.

“Oh nothing…” he gently reassured. “Just thinking about how big and swollen your breasts will be when they fill up with milk after I’ve bred you.” The words alone made your stomach double and he chuckled darkly, pinching your nipples harder before squeezing at your tits once again. “You won’t have to worry about any overflow, I’ll gladly take care of that.”

“Bren-” you gasped as he caught one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling you harshly, causing your eyes to nearly roll to the back of your head. You buried your hand in his hair, tugging at his dark locks and hissing as he bit down hard on your nipple, then quickly flicked his tongue over the tender spot to make the pain fade away. “Careful, baby.”

“I’ll be as careful as I want to be,” he retorted, mouth switching towards the other as he roughly groped you, his erection now brushing against your clit and making you needier than ever.

“I need you,” you whined. “Please, daddy.”

“That’s right,” he licked his lips as he came up to meet his tongue with yours once again, kissing you sloppily as one hand swiftly grabbed a fistful of your hair. He tugged hard, eliciting another gasp from you, and smirked. “Keep calling me daddy and I’ll make you a mommy by the end of the night.”

“Fuck…” your legs trembled and he lifted himself up off of you, causing you to unintentionally whine at the loss of contact between your legs.

“Off the bed. On your knees,” he commanded. “Now.”

“Y-yes sir,” you managed to reply, shakily getting up from off the bed and finding your way towards the floor, kneeling down for him. He sat on the edge of the bed in his boxer briefs, studying you carefully, watching your big needy eyes look up at him with longing and desperation. He ran a hand through his messy hair and hummed with approval. His cock was fully erect now, head peeking out from underneath the waistband, and your mouth watered as you watched him slowly palm himself through the fabric. You knew what was coming next.

“I just find it funny…” Brendon began, still slowly toying with himself over his boxers. “That moments ago, you were so hesitant to even kiss me, spewing excuses and insisting on how wrong this all was, acting so confused and shy and worried.” He chuckled as he stood up from the edge of the bed and slid his boxers down, exposing himself and letting his cock spring free, watching as your eyes dilated, fixed on the sight. “And now when I tell you to get on your knees for me, there isn’t even a pause before I’m being told an eager ‘yes sir,’ hmmm? That’s an interesting development if you ask me.” He steps out from his boxers and moves towards you, his erection fully exposed and inches from your face now, and you can see the precum dripping from his slit already. “So, I’m not going to order you around this time, darling. Instead, I’m going to ask.” He pumps himself a couple times for good measure and then looks down at your longing eyes, already fully knowing the answer. “That’s only fair, right? To give you a choice, no?” You slowly nod, gaze locked with him. “Good girl. Now do you want to suck my cock or not?”

“Yes sir,” you quickly answered, reverting your gaze back towards his hand wrapped around his length, staring in a daze as you watched the precum dripping down the head. “I want to suck your cock so bad.”

“That’s what I thought,” he hummed, taking another step towards you until the head of his cock was pressed up against your lips. “Now be a good little slut and open up wide.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You did as told, opening your mouth and allowing the head of his member to push past your lips, slowly licking at his slit before flattening your tongue and sliding underneath, taking in more. His hands gathered your hair, bunching it up into a makeshift ponytail with his hands, then readjusting into a firmer grip until he could control your movements simply with the flick of his wrist. “God…” you moaned around his cock in your mouth as you took him deeper, starting to gag as you felt him reaching the back of your throat, eyes watering.

“Keep it up good girl,” he soothed. “You’re doing such a good job for me. Take my dick in your mouth, take all that you can, there you go. Be a good little slut for me. I know you can do it.”

“Fuck-” you caught yourself choking as he shoved the rest of himself inside of you, head fully hitting the back of your throat as his balls slapped against your chin, and you heard him let out a deep groan, knowing this was just the beginning. He couldn’t hear your feeble protests between you gagging around his cock and quite literally choking, tears beginning to fall down your face as he gripped your hair harder and guided you back and forth, slowly fucking your mouth.

“God that feels so fucking good,” he moaned, bucking his hips into your head as he began to pick up the pace, his dick ramming into your throat over and over again, causing you to full on sob at this point. He simply laughed when he looked down at you, the pleasure overtaking him, condescending tone now replacing his sweet praises. “That’s right you fucking slut, cry for me. What’s wrong? Is my cock too big for your little mouth? I thought you wanted this.” He shoved harder and deeper, your desperate attempt to give yourself some slack quickly foiled as he tugged at fistfuls of your hair and forced you to deepthroat him, holding you there for several seconds, suffocating you before eventually pulling all the way out. “Fuck, you took my entire cock in your mouth, you fucking whore.” You coughed violently, drool dripping down your chin and onto your breasts as you desperately wheezed for air, eyes stinging with tears as he laughed even more. “Pathetic though, seeing as you didn’t even let me finish.”

“I’m s-sorry, s-s-sorry,” you struggled to stammer out, still catching your breath, salty aftertaste on your tongue. No, he didn’t finish, but you could tell he came close. You could taste it.

“That’s okay,” he insisted, caressing your face and reaching his open palms out to help you stand. “I didn’t want to finish in your mouth anyways. I have other plans for you tonight, darling.”

“Bren…” your voice trailed off as he helped you onto your feet and tugged your panties down your legs. He guided you to step out of them and then went to kiss you again before noticing how close you were to your breaking point, your legs weak and sore, mouth and throat fucked raw, underwear now completely soaked with your wetness. He took a moment to simply hug you, palm pressing into your back softly with one hand and petting your hair with the other, comforting you like a small child, hushing you until your tears mostly subsided.

“Hey, you did a good job, babydoll,” he whispered softly into your ear, voice turning sweet again. “It’s okay. Shh, it’s alright. Come here.” He held you there in the quiet and stillness of your bedroom, the darkness shrouding you both, the moonlight from behind the curtains still cascading onto your mattress as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “Let’s lay down on the bed, sweetheart.”

“O-okay,” you hiccupped, slowly able to catch your breath and tears drying against your cheeks as he scooped you up into his arms and placed you on the mattress carefully. He hovered above you for a moment before getting comfortable, laying his body down atop of yours, erection hard and wet and pressed against your stomach, his forehead against your own, lips barely touching.

“Are you alright, love?” he checked, and you could sense the worry in the way he furrowed his brow and pressed his lips together, genuinely wondering if he took it too far.

“I’m okay,” you insisted. “I just…” You stopped yourself, genuinely curious as to where this was going. He was right. In the past, Josh had talked about breeding you, even fucked you as though he had meant to, but there was always a stopping point. He was never serious about it, it wasn’t the reality you two had agreed upon, or could possibly even entertain. Especially now that you were long distance. You had taken birth control, or even a Plan B afterwards, or just toyed with the idea as he came inside a condom. But the way Brendon was talking, and from the seriousness in his voice, you had a feeling this wasn’t just a fantasy anymore. He was being for real.

Seeming to have read your mind, Brendon nodded, dark brown eyes boring into yours, his cock seeming to press harder into your abdomen. “I’m serious, darling,” he murmured. “I will, if you’ll let me. You just have to give in.”

“I’m scared, Brendon,” you confessed, tears nearly welling up in your eyes once more. “I’m not on any birth control, and I’m so young, and I’ve never done something like this before, and what about Josh, what will I tell him once he finds out, what if he-”

“Just trust me,” he held your face in his hands, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before looking at you longingly. “Don’t worry about any of that. Forget about Josh. Forget about your worries. I just want you to focus on me right now. Focus on us. On what feels good. On what you want. Okay?” Still nervous, your gaze wandered towards the door, as if your boyfriend would walk in and catch you in the act any second, and he clicked his tongue disapprovingly, tilting your head back up to meet his gaze. “Do you want this?”

“So badly,” you allowed yourself to barely whisper in response.

“Then it’s okay,” Brendon reassured. “Darling, I love you. And I just want you to give me the chance to prove that to you. Give me a reason for you to choose me for once. Forget about the rest of the world. Trust me. Please.”

“Bren…” you still hesitated, terrified.

“Do you love me?” he wondered. You nodded. “Then let me. Please.”

Without saying a word, you simply parted your legs and he sighed with relief, one of his hands cupping the warmth between your legs. He hummed, letting one of his fingers press up against your wetness, gathering it towards your clit and gently rubbing in circles, causing you to whimper. “It can’t possibly be wrong if it feels this good, no?” he mused, sliding his finger down and adding another, toying at your entrance before pushing in, causing you to moan. “Good girl. That’s right. Let me try and stretch you out before I fuck you with my cock. God, you’re tight.” Your walls clenched around his fingers as he swirled them inside of you, collecting your juices and pumping in and out before adding a third, attempting to stretch you open wider. You whined at the sensation and he kissed your neck in hopes of comforting you, meanwhile slowly bucking his hips up and grinding his cock against your thigh.

“I need you,” you begged. “Please Bren, I can’t take it anymore. I want to feel you inside of me. I want you so bad. Please fuck me.”

“I don’t know…” he teased, toying at your clit once again, rubbing in frantic circles as your body shuddered underneath him. “Like you said, what would Josh think?”

“I don’t care about him, I want you, I need you,” you sputtered without thinking, heat building up in your core as he pinched your clit, making you cry out.

“That’s right babygirl, tell me how much you want me,” he growled, positioning his cock at your entrance, gathering your wetness with his head.

“I need you so bad, Brendon,” you whined. “I have to have you inside of me, I want you to fuck me, I need it, I need you.”

“You want me to fuck a baby inside of you?” he asked, dark lust filled eyes staring into yours, searching for approval.

“Yes, please, fuck yes,” you nodded frantically. He gripped your hips tightly and closed his eyes, groaning as he slowly entered you, making you gasp in pleasure and shock. He carefully filled you inch by inch, and as you had remembered from sucking him off earlier, you could feel just how long and thick he was stretching you out. You hooked your legs around his waist as you pulled him in deeper, gasping for air as you sheathed his length completely, his face buried in your neck and making the most beautiful collection of noises.

“Fuck darling…” he struggled to catch his breath before he slowly drew himself out, then pushed all the way back in, lips catching yours. Your kissed passionately, him working his way in and out of you until he found a steady rhythm, carefully stretching out your walls and pushing deeper, working his way inside of you. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“As do you,” you panted, legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in and letting him pull out before sliding him into you once again. The sensation was absolutely euphoric. He slid in and out of you with ease, building up your wetness, until he pulled out and roughly grabbed you by the hips.

“Turn around, ass up,” he ordered, and you did as told, him spanking you roughly in return. “Good girl.” He positioned himself at your entrance and shoved himself into you all at once, the new position making your head spin, and you screamed into the pillow in pleasure. He rocked his hips back and forth against your ass, fucking you harder and faster, and you could feel him going deeper as he did so.

“Please don’t stop daddy,” you pleaded as you felt your walls start to clench around him, nearing orgasm. “I’m going to come.”

“Yes, please, I want you to come for me,” Brendon agreed, reaching his hand towards your pussy and rubbing at your clit, making you whine as you adhered to his movements, fucking yourself on his dick. “Be a good girl and come for daddy.” His words practically unraveled you and you cried into the pillow once again as you felt yourself give way, walls tightening and contracting sporadically before finally releasing around his shaft, wetness dripping down your legs, the rush of the high overwhelming your senses, but he kept relentlessly fucking you. “Oh god, babygirl, fuck…”

“It feels so good,” you whimpered, senses overwhelmed as you felt his thrusts become more desperate and messy, and in that moment, reality hit you all at once, realizing what was about to happen. “Wait, w-wait Brendon wait-”

“What?” he seethed, suddenly stopping, and you froze, terrified.

“I just… I want to look at you when you do it,” you insisted breathily, still shaking post orgasm, trying to turn around to face him despite your position. His cruel expression softened, the anger of you ruining his orgasm when he was so close starting to fade away. “Please, let me turn around so I can be closer to you when you come inside me. I want to look into your eyes while it happens.”

He paused, unclenching his jaw. “Okay, you’re right. Give me a second, okay princess?” he complied, pulling out of you and letting you turn onto your back, smiling softly as your legs wrapped around his waist once again. “I have a better idea though.” He took your legs and hooked them around his shoulders instead, positioning yourself differently. “This way I’m even deeper.”

“Thank you, Brendon,” you whispered and he pressed a kiss to your lips gently.

“Anything for you, darling,” he smiled as he pushed himself deep inside you with no warning, gaining a loud moan from you, your head jolting back in ecstasy. He began to fuck you again, and each time he thrust into you he moved deeper and deeper, until you could feel the head of his cock hitting your cervix. “Fuck, I’m so deep…”

“Oh god,” you clawed your fingernails down his back to cope with the feeling of him ramming into you like that, him gaining momentum and going faster, deeper, and harder, each thrust becoming more animalistic and needy. “Please, please I need you…”

“I’m going to cum so deep inside of you I get you pregnant on the first try,” he growled in your ear and you whined at his words, eyes widening as you felt one of his hands reach for your throat, gripping your neck and starting to choke you. “You belong to me, darling. You’re going to have my baby. No one else’s.” He choked you harder as he fucked you, your vision turning blurry and you gasping for air, and the moment he released his grip, he released inside of you. The sensation alone triggered your second orgasm.

Your vision turned white as you felt a certain warmth explode between your legs, a sticky thick liquid being shot deep inside of you, his cock twitching between your walls as he emptied his seed into your pussy, and you screamed into his chest as he let out a deep groan, nearly collapsing on top of you. He lazily thrust into you several times before turning limp, letting your pussy milk the very last drops out from his cock, and the weight of his sweaty body crushed you. You didn’t mind, you were too high off the pleasure to notice, the shock of knowing what had just happened, the sensation of his cum spilling inside of you and now coating your walls and dripping down your thighs, his cock growing soft but still resting inside of your cunt. You could have sworn he came right against your cervix too. Fuck.

The room went silent, nothing but the sound of both of you gasping for air and trying to slow your racing heartbeats filling the void of the darkened bedroom. Moonlight no longer seeped from behind the curtains and onto the mattress, but faint sunlight. Had it really been that long? The two of you were dripping in sweat, eyes closed, naked bodies limp and pressed up against each other, blankets strung about the bed, clothes scattered on the floor. His skin felt so soft and warm against you, you almost didn’t mind his entire body weight pinning you down to the mattress. Plus, you were still very much riding the lingering high of your second orgasm, and the feeling of his seed spilling out from between your legs had your head reeling. Several moments passed before he finally stirred, collapsing onto the bed beside you for several seconds before drawing you in, letting you take a turn to lay on top of him now. Still struggling to catch his breath, he hummed, running his fingers through your messy hair, and then kissing your forehead.

“Thank you, baby,” he mumbled breathlessly. “That felt so good. You felt so good.”

“No, thank you,” you insisted, clearing your throat at an attempt to speak clearly. “I feel so high right now I can barely think straight-” He cut you off by placing his lips on yours, drawing you in for a messy kiss, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine making out with him right now.

“I love you,” he whispered when he finally pulled away. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too, Brendon,” you smiled softly back at him. He kissed you again, more forceful this time, and then sighed.

“You’re going to have my baby,” he reminded you, pressing a soft hand against your stomach. “We’re going to have a baby together.”

“Really?” you look at him, wide eyed, half terrified but half excited.

“Just you and me, love,” he reassured, nodding slowly. “I promise. I’ll fuck you a thousand times more until we get it right.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind that,” you laughed quietly, burying your face into his neck.

“Oh and believe me,” he chuckled, kissing you softly on the forehead. “Neither would I.”

Nani’s third and last child certainly came as a surprise once she was able to take her baby in, less dizzy and drained from the pain that overtook her in the last couple hours. The trance from her three favorite sister-lovers’ singing, the warm lapping water, the hours of gentle lazy soothing sex was only able to stave the pain off so much. Sized as babies should be, all the fingers and toes, including the two webbed ones on each foot, the murmurs & fusses already melodic. Yet, the rarest of creatures, an oddity, albeit a pretty, no gorgeous one that washed her with love months before she opened up and pushed him out with her sisters help, whom she wanted months before she conceived. The emptiness, exhaustion from the birth flooding with love as she took in the warm deep eyes, already thick lashes, wide nose, lips like petals, chubby hand already curling around her finger…

But a differently shaped swelling, a particularity, between the thighs. He came out a he.  

Bren-don, her throat called out with the still synchronized beats of their hearts. That’s her baby’s name. His eyes met hers briefly, fluttering, throat hhhing back, as if understanding and agreeing. The sisters sung back, surprised but calm at it being a boychild, still fussing over them with strokes, occasional kisses, firmer rubs, over their bodies, hair. Him on her breast and tummy, still slick with her, the two of them breathing together. He latched onto a nipple, suckling softly, singing back what he could mimic of her songs, mixing in a couple repeated random notes of his own, when he wasn’t drinking. Her baby… It was just as strong as with her two daughters.

Zora stayed with her when the others left, cutting the umbilical cord, watching over, picking up the song when she nodded off, preparing the afterbirth for when Nani woke.

Male sirens are so rare, most pods (sized mostly depending on closeness to water, from two sirens to four dozen, with overlap from mixing families, travelling, making friends, lovers, sisters in spirit, switching groups) don’t even have the one. Many sirens never met a male of their kind. One, maybe two, out of a hundred births managed to be male. The reproductive system so hostile to the sperm of the human males necessary to choose to help them create children—even when males were born, they were sterile—almost always, only select, stronger x chromosomes managed to get far enough, pulled in by the ovum awaiting it.

That is, if the men were lovely, giving enough lovers to stay with her through the fortnight within eighteen days needed of hours upon hours of passion: so many crests that crashed, touches, massages, licks, sucks, pressing together, grindings, particularly on, with her clitoris, vulva. Worshipping her with his whole body, acclimatizing her to him, his skin, sweat, hair, saliva, dick, semen… over days, both lost in pleasure, rutting helplessly… It all would wear down the membrane shield to allow entry, induce ovulation, making her insides more hospitable, showing he was, or they were (like most sirens, she was partial to threesomes, foursomes…), worthy of being chosen to help her start a child.

The membrane would only dissipate partially on its own for twice yearly bleeding and fully for the usually two or three times in their blood years when their body prepared to birth. With the blood cycle’s womb contractions and before childbirth got too intense to think of lovemaking, sharing pleasure, with yourself, the other sirens, with humans, male and female, helped. Same lovemaking, although not needed nearly for as long. And still gladly, protractedly engaged in.

Brendon is the first in the flesh boy-siren in her memory, she thought as she woke, him still nestled on her, mouth on her nipple but relaxed, sleeping, both sticky. She slowly snacks on the meal Zora made. She submerges them both back in the water, gently washing the slick off him with Zora’s help, and he, still used to living, sleeping, breathing in her womb blood, sleeps through it.

The existence of them before this was only story, a queer, desirous idea; she couldn’t help wondering about the sex after her mom, aunt, first told her of them even before she got her first moon blood all those years ago. Apparently, they all were suited to be lovers, as good as the other sirens, as open as what only some human males let themselves be… Or at least, so the tales went.

—

When your mom took you and your younger sister on a trip along much of the Hawaiian coast, you didn’t think you’d come across a male siren, but you did. You didn’t imagine you’d actually experience just how true those stories about boy-sirens were either, even though you spent hours wondering, especially when arousing yourself, fantasies, often as part of self-pleasure or in dream, but you sure did. Many were favorites. And, Goddesses, did he love showing just how true they were…

—

It was a four week trip, to celebrate your sister, Daria’s, first blood and to remind you to please wait on creating a child. Makani was your eighth and latest human male lover (twelfth human overall) and the second lover you opened with (the first was a woman, a few years older, wild, delicious, careful, Etienne, after your third boy, Liam, helped things along). And the first that you thought you might want to pick to actually start a child with, although feeling too unready. Too soon. He, Etienne, Liam, Matthew, James, Tamara were especially favored, ones you craved deeply to and could stay lovers with off and on (mostly on) for months. Plus, it was too dangerous this young. You should find a second, maybe third, lover first anyway that you’d want to help start a baby (what humans called paternity, fatherhood—terrible invention really, would be unknown, and your system would have more varied selection). Your mom was eager to second that notion, reminding you that you ought to wait until you’re at least twenty-one.

Nineteen was too soon for you too, but Goddess, could you get thinking crazy thoughts during sex—need his dick inside too, he’d help you start a beautiful, loving baby—after eleven days within two weeks, especially when you open… You had to pry yourself away from Makani, not fuck with other humans for a few days, only sirens, so you could, uh, recover. So the ova could dissipate, you could close back up. If your rational thoughts did get subsumed by your passions in that way during that time, you could take plants that would induce abortion, but it’s obviously better not to get pregnant in the first place (and seldom done outside of being young, very rare rape by a man during a time of opening, health concerns).

—

The first young man you picked on the trip became too hurried, rushed, rough. You kind of forgot the lessons, rushed in, too needy to share sex, didn’t see how he danced, touched, kissed when things where heated, but not intense. He lost that seeming easygoing friendliness, just a veneer, but you were aroused, full clitoris/vulva throbbing just from the sight of him. Gorgeous. But it became apparent there was no sensuousness, no promise of hours, days of waves of pleasure, orgasms, humping, rocking, stroking, kissing, sucking, tonguing, squishing, rolling around, grabbing, panting, moaning, anything and everything… No curiosity, desire to learn when you tried to show, tell him. You could tell he wasn’t worth getting deeper with, let alone naked or alone.

You ended it quick, having to change to a dangerous, back off melody to slow and confuse him, let you slip away from him. You wish human women had these abilities too, all of it.

Siren songs can soften, embolden, amplify what’s shared between them, what’s under the fakeness, rules, roles that mostly men and teen boys put on each other, young boys, girls, women. They especially influence adolescent boys and men, opening them up to their sway, gentle power. But they can only do so much, can’t create something not there, make something not there for them for them. Mostly working on the already pliant, eager, even if they don’t know how they can offer themselves to you, or felt like they needed to hide that impulse to surrender before, they want to learn, to be like sirens with them. With you.

Sirens didn’t dash men (and women) on the rocks, lure them to their doom, they opened them up to their selves, to them but only if they wanted them, to each other too, to desire, lust, love, pleasure, music, dance, touch, water, eagerness, orgasms… hours and days of them all… It wasn’t sirens’ fault men’s patriarchy couldn’t handle that, had to twist it.

—

You pleasure yourself until you’re wrung out, glans sore, cunt aching, tender, panting, soon after in the ocean. Memories of several lovers helping along the… eight orgasms: Makani, Patrick, Tamara, James… Going for a couple more when you’re in bed in the trailer because Daria and Mom are luckily still at the celebration.

—

Swimming for hours, hands and feet wrinkling, alone and with Mom and Daria. Drinking just enough to get tipsy, especially the fruity or salty or woody stuff. Dancing, coming in your swim shorts a couple times with one of them, but he has to pick up and comfort his sad, just dumped friend. Sweet boy.

—

You go to a rave about two weeks in. You wish you could try ecstasy, but it’s too hard and intense on sirens, drives your kind temporarily rather mad. You share a joint with this male-male couple. You love and they love that they can be so openly affectionate at raves. Celebrating Chris’ twentieth birthday. (George is your age.) You love watching them. Fuck. Gorgeously sexy. You hope you’re not being creepy, in part because they say they’re gay.

You’re stroking the skin of this beautiful girl, Roselani, as she grins at you, moving into it eagerly, nuzzling. Edge of seventeen like the song, literally with a birthday Monday, making you more careful with her. She kisses your shoulder as she leans on you, so you hum more, eyes moving between the couple and her. It’s her first rave (snuck out from strict Christian parents); she wanted to try E too, but was shy, worried, so you sung to her to give her small similar sensations, feelings, of what’d be like. You can feel her unfurling, swaying under your lapping waves. It makes you picture her vulva like petals, spreading them… What a fitting name…

Picturing the four of you naked, in twos, threes, fours, all these configurations, ways of lovemaking… Your mouth, neck, nipples, punani (another fitting name), thighs, skin… craves all of them. You can sense the boys opening more too. Chris makes you think of sea anemones, salt and sand and fish in his scent, on his skin, George of vines growing on a tree, wet earth, blood coloured berries, butterfly wings. If George didn’t smell so human, you’d think him a nymph. And Chris his merboy?

Turns out, by gay, they don’t mean Kinsey 6. Chris, is pretty outright bi—even better, you probably even prefer it to straight guys too. George tells you he thinks he’s 75/25 tilted towards guys, stroking your wrist as his boyfriend shyly, gently kisses you. You think of flowers again as your lips, tongues, play.

You invite them to the beach, blankets in tow, skinny-dipping, sharing pleasure quickly melding into outright fucking, as it often does, there’s seldom clear lines, in the water. Making out, grinding on each of them, thigh, tummy, hip, dick or vulva, respectively, them grinding back. The guys making out as you rock into the lighter one, George, from behind, building… Sirens find it easier to come in water, and you do three times, pants and moans giving way to singing the second and third times, once as Chris rocks to his first between your labia and thighs as you french, still coming like a teenaged boy, keeping going until you come again.

And that’s just before you wind up on the blankets, helping Rose to two orgasms, first one not coming until over an hour in, encouraging her to say and show what works for her best, to try things she has been too shy, shamed, boxed in to do, some things she couldn’t even think of before tonight. Inviting her grind against your and Chris’ mouths, hands, thighs, genitals, knees, tummies, breasts, bums… George kissing her through it, offering a thigh, his dick and balls, belly, hands shyly playing with her beautiful vulva too after a while, urged to go gently on her clit, licking the taste off his fingers before going down on her too… Blooming poppy flower, protective cover bursting to show pink and red ruffled petals, dripping from the rain. Her and their moans, gasps, pants, begs, shy eager asks… all like song to you. Love hearing, seeing, feeling, tasting, smelling them, their desire, pleasure, orgasms… George has one as you jack him, play with his balls, he loves firm handling of them, while grinding on his thigh, you five more throughout the night, and don’t forget Rose’s two more and Chris’ second…

The nymphs have a king sized bed, and you four taxi down and fall into it, having an only 3 hour round the next day, in between fruit and granola and coconut milk. Roselani leaves for the bus home, and you can only stay a couple more hours with them before you’re really late to meet your mom and sister. You tell them some of the details of your first human foursome as you hike, fascinated also by the gorgeous, vibrant, stunning flowers, trees, fruit, birds, waterfall, swimming in the water there too….

Daria looks forward to turning sixteen so she can give humans a try. She, like other sirens generally, has been playing sex games with the similarly aged since she was little, but… not humans. Not males. “Especially the males. So many pretty boys here, especially the locals…” Smiling more at ones that have dark chocolate eyes, hair, brown or more mixed skin, plush lips, limbs muscled from dancing, traditional skirts… You’re getting distracted too.

—

Three weeks in, you see him. You soon wish it happened sooner, or your trip were longer.

You take the fawn in, breath caught, heart and clit and lips pounding, and when your eyes can just see his two webbed toes on each foot in his flip flops, part of you thinks “siren?”

A woman about 30 years older, shorter, that looks a lot like him appears, in black sandals—her feet seemingly confirming your wonder. She probably is (humans rarely have webbed feet), so maybe he is too?

He sings to her and she smiles, and you wish you were talking to him minutes ago. So you start now. She looks at you, warm even before the recognition sparks in her. You trill your hello, and those plump lips part, his tongue flicks out. Oh boy. Pounding between your legs turning to painful ache, moisture, thinking about pressing your front along his, kissing him, tongues playing, rocking on him, needy… in front of who is probably his mom, the passersby even.

She grins at you both. “Should I leave you two to it? Give me a call when you want to meet back up, k, baby? Or when our cord gets too stretched,” she asks, giving a squishy hug.

“I’m twenty, mom…” he sighs. Then squishes back again, kisses her with a mwah. “But I still feel it stretch.”

“Have fun, honey.”

He mmms, and you can feel it in your lower belly, your cunt. Even his lovely “Bye, Mom.” His seeming the a momma’s boy just adds to his appeal. (You’re still not over that being an insult with humans.)

—

His apparent mom smells faintly of siren (it lessens after menopause, but it could also be because she fucked or was otherwise very physically intimate with a siren). He smells a lot like siren up close, but sweeter. A bit less ocean, but even more music, electric too. Virtually sure, you ask straight up “Siren?” adding a bit of song to it.

“Yeah, darlin.”

“You sure are a rare one, huh?” Then feeling stupid, “Goddess, you’ve probably heard that lots.”

He just smiles, kind and shy. “I hear there’s only one other, on this island anyway. Haven’t met him yet. Hope to.”

You hope so too. Especially if you get to see it. And join. But you’ll settle for seeing it.

Your tummy growls, and you’re more than prepared to push it aside for even the whisper of sex with him (although you are so also down for food during sex) but he says “Dinner? I know some places.”

—

He is quite probably the most beautiful boy you’ve ever seen—must be the gentle allure at work too. Maybe even the most beautiful person, female or male, siren or human. He holds at least as much sway over others as any other siren. He even catches the eye of a lot of straight seeming men. “And a lot more than eye,” he giggles when he sees you notice the third man with a woman linger his gaze, his touch in one case.

To be fair, all three of those women looked too. Something pulls on you with the third couple, and you wonder if he feels moved towards them too, briefly imagining them with you, with him, with you both. If he feels as much like his tide is coming into yours as yours does with him.

So… are most boys, men not… straight, period. Or is it… because he’s a siren? Most of those you’ve been drawn to, and all but one that you’ve had sex with, their being attracted to guys sometimes or more than sometimes, having dreams and fantasies, usually having different kinds of sex with them, especially as particularly curious eager adolescents, comes up. Maybe those men are more like you, sirens than the straight ones. You don’t know how representative that is, or if more open men get picked by female sirens, or if it’s you, or if men are open with sirens in ways they can’t be with others, like most men are into both deep down but hide it…

Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

Goofy, infectious, and musical. And theatrical. Expressions, hand gestures, voice, bounding with energy and a big streak of femininity. He missed a lot of the repression, shame, demeaning humans get (especially from older human males), and most of what he did get didn’t stick. Colourful electric guitars. Make up. Colourful flowers, mixed with vanilla. Performing for the crowd, wanting to please people, and you sense that before he tells you he’s in a band. Drama kid, but mostly with his mom and sisters, too anxious to really do it with others. Mixed also with soft cotton, soft skin, soft hair, soft touch, soft lips… A whole lot of soft. Red, orange, yellow, pink, blue, lavender, all sorts of colours of warmth too. Faint scent of used leather, lace, satin, velvet. Sweat. Plumeria and hibiscus and piano bursting on his arm, taste of them gentle on your tongue. Your senses overlapping more than they do with humans and female sirens.

Those eyes, and his lips. Goddess, those lips were made for kissing, sucking, worshipping cunt. You want to play with his shaggy hair, gentle, with little tugs, scratches on his scalp, stroke his hair as softly as it looks, as he licks, sucks, swirls… over it, just right. Teasing, making you crest and crash, easy and serious, soft and firm, as you rock back more often than not…

You wonder if it would be different or the same as two females if you both sang a sex (lust, passion, desire, pleasure…) song together.

You don’t register much of the meal other than that it’s quite good and that there was some talk of names, ages, family, plus those things that flash through you. And you did pay attention to most of it, you swear: mom is Nani, he’s Brendon, two sisters (Kara and—another K name), you both like a lot of the same music—and his whole fucking body is a gift from the Goddesses and his mom (bless her), there to please and be pleased, make love, fuck, help climax, kiss and grind and everything endlessly. Usually it’s easier to concentrate on things other than just sex. Not a lot easier, but still.

—

You’re going to come out with it… “I wanna hold your hand” you softly sing.

His hands are even softer than they look, and you brush your thumb over the one you have clasped. Imagine how they’d feel between your legs, stroking your neck, shoulders, breasts, tummy, thighs… You wonder if the rest of his skin is as baby soft, wanting to press all of him against all of you, and melt and grind and roll and… Wet, vibrant, warm, needy, passionate… You’d be so soft together. And muscled. He’s got his share of those too, mind.  You want to kiss, suck, caress, rub, grind your cunt… all over him. Plumeria, orchids, sun, ocean water, grainy sand, throb of bass and drums, sangria, throb of heart beats and necks and breasts and cunt and dick…

You wonder how male sirens taste, their skin, lips, penises… Wait, do they have penises? Yeah, according to the tales they do… And balls. Do their genitals look, taste, smell, feel the same as humans? Probably much the same but even better, if you do play the sirens’ own praise song there.

You’d get lost in 69ing with him… Your senses getting more mixed, intense… Fuck, being in each other’s mouths… Watching him slick with your saliva and vulva juice, slipping in and out of your mouth, mouthing over his balls, rubbing that delicate skin where balls meet anus… Him licking, slurping, sucking, up and down, side to side, over your whole cunt, focused on the glans, or the glans and inner lips… The best mushroom you’ve ever tasted, absolutely intoxicating scent of a phallic flower…

You’re both singing, hands still entwined, arms or thighs sometimes brushing, and you’re not sure who started it, or who is copying whom, or when you got on the same page, but it’s, fuck… You need… The words and music entwine in your communicating, notes sometimes supplanting but meaning words.

“Goddess, you’ve got to be able to tell how much… I… need… Bren?”

“I—yeah… Can you tell how much I want to too?”

You press along him, sway into him, breathing him in, grinding a little. Honey.

“Know how much I want to pleasure you? Need to… feel, see, taste, hear… help you feel good, come, for hours….” You interrupt him with long slow kisses, with tongue, hands stroking down his back to that juicy for a boy’s ass of his. You want to kiss, lick, massage, rub your front down it, his butt too, rock your vulva along him… To all of him.

You’re so close to the water now, as if by mutual need, somehow at a spot there’s no one around, and you two are jogging toward it. Stripping as you go. Pulling him into kisses when he’s in underwear and flip flops, before moving away to get naked and closer to the shoreline. You want to look at him, take him in before he gets in, so you do, showing yourself off too. The beginnings of sunset just add to his beauty.

“You’re gorgeous too,” he murmurs.

He’s smaller there than a human, and it takes a second to register the fact it’s bifurcated: the tip split in two, and you’re thinking about it rubbing over both sides of your clit at once, your glans fitting between it, sliding down your labia, maybe your inner lips would kind of fit between it too, back up, fitting back together…

You cup his balls, surprised to find them lighter, smaller, like half a ball each almost—it makes sense, you guess, considering he’d be sterile. Your body, skin, blood, genitals, throat, calling to his. Stroking over his soft skin—softer than on a man, even a woman’s labia—there and his dick, fucking his thigh, gasping into his mouth, hands gripping his hips, ass as you come, hard, desperately, noisily. Blue, red, purple bursts of colors, berries on your tongue, hand drums in your mind, heart. Your cunt has been aching for a couple hours and it’s been more than enough teasing. You know there will be more time for teasing later anyway.

As he pulls away from you, you’re aware of precum (you think) on your tummy and side, and before you can grab at him to pull him back along you he’s on his knees, your leg hooked over a shoulder. Hand on your ass to hold you up, sucking, tonguing noisily, panting, moaning. It conjures a song that you manage to get out some of alongside your needy moans and sighs and notes, but it’s him seizing up, shuddering, more intensely than you tend to. And from going down on someone too, apparently. A few human male lovers could get like that too from using their mouths there, two of them often.

“Yeah,” he says, flushed, breathy, embarrassed and proud sounding at the same time, gazing up at you, nuzzling your mound, thighs. “Happens a lot. Guess male sirens are the most… sensitive? And not just from this, either—although this? Fucking awesome. A fave.”

He gets back to it, and in seconds of suckling at your clit like you moan for him to, of you fucking his mouth back, you’re climaxing, trembling, light headed… Your bottom halves are now in the water, seeing sparkles, him seeing them too. He’s rocking his knuckles over your closed vulva, which spreads as you open your legs as you picture it in your head, making him brush more directly over your clit: shock waves, but not quite. Blue clitoria flower trembling from the vibrations of him playing guitar. He thumbs gentle circles like you ask and in seconds, another crash of waves within you. He cups the whole thing, rocking, and you do the same, all of his sex fitting in your hand, to his gasps. You kiss him, over and over, and he’s fully hard now, fingertips brushing over the two tips. Satin panties.  You slide down to his balls, and he gasps, whines. Not sure if you’d rather them on you or him, or if you’d be able to keep them on either of you long. But red satin panties. And sheets. Velvet blanket. Warm bath. Lavender and vanilla bath bomb.

“Um… so like. I dunno if it’s me or males like me, but… Uh, these are pretty much as sensitive too.”

“Mouth and balls, huh?” you say, kissing him, licking his lower lip, sucking on it as he moans, another two spurts of pre-cum, this time on his lower belly. You want to lick it.

“And… nipples are pretty erogenous too, but not as much as the others. And um… my ass.”

You moan, grinding against his hand, moving down to lick his slick up, a faint sweet taste. You mouth where thigh meets groin, his balls, lingering, sucking, licking them—they, the skin, must be as sensitive as the length of his dick. Fuck, you love seeing everything slick with your boy lovers, the balls move too within the scrotum with changes in arousal, not just his shaft, feeling them, and he’s no exception. You wonder how he’d like a vibrator on them, settle for humming with them in your mouth, them pulsing a few times. More slick to lick up, both tips in your mouth at once, tongue swirling around both as he babbles, rocks into your mouth, inner cheek rubbing against them a couple times, and he’s coming again—the crescendo of Let’s Live for Today—but… it’s just the same as the pre-cum.

Maybe that’s why you’re instinctively more oral on him back than sirens are with human males (getting a lot more than giving), more like sirens are with each other—like you knew even before you tasted it that he’d taste yummy when he came. His dick, balls, are faintly salty like human males, mixed with a similar sweetness that’s in siren and human females, a mushiness. Golden delicious apple.

He’s still mostly hard as you rub his tips along either side of your labia, clit, and mmmm. You’re both singing, more than your usual moans, gasps have been. There’s like a pulse that pushes the tips against you, again and again, subtle but distinct. You move his dick and your hips together, still feeling those pulses, both of you slick, and you’re coming again.

Slide down his length—not even four inches now—to his balls, and you instinctively rock, his length trapped between your mounds and bellies as you nudge into his balls. “’m, I can take it. They’re like, harder…” he says, leg going up over your lower back, bringing you down firmer. They feel harder now compared to the lightness of before. Harder than a semi. The heat of a humid rainforest…

Before your brain registers it, he’s pleading, getting his other leg over your shoulder, shifting you two so you’re on your arms grinding, bouncing in little thrusts, mostly on his balls, the top halves of his dick just tapping against his lower tummy, and what, how… You’re shaking, sweating, so close, and he actually beats you to it, grabbing your back, ass, and you manage to see his dick pulsing up and down against his belly before your eyes and arms slip, his leg sliding off. He squishes you to him, sucking on your neck as you get your rhythm back, panting against your neck, licking. Delicious sexy talk: he wants to see you come, come until you can’t anymore, do you know how amazing your orgasms look and taste and smell and feel and hear, to come all over him, he needs your juices… You open your legs some more, rock faster, and you are. Panting, you trace fingertips over his lips and he sucks them in, moaning softly, both gently swaying into each other, rubbing together.

When you schluck apart, you’re still close enough to kiss, for his hands to play with your hair as he tells you the colors of your coming, mostly reds, blues, purples, pinks, reminding you how much you want to play with his—so soft, your soft lovely boy—grinning dopily, almost dazed, at each other. “That’s my girl. Like peaches…” he sighs, mouth grazing over your neck to settle on your nipple, sucking as he gets a thigh between yours for you to lazily rock on. He’s… where’d he go?

“It, um, retracts… When it needs a rest from all the awesome sex. Or generally when nothing sexy is happening.”

“Does, huh?” you smile. “Well, these nipples don’t play peek a boo,” you giggle, referring to both you two’s nipples, running your palm, fingertips, thumb over the little pebbles. He sighs, mmms contentedly, gasps, mouth on the other.  You shift, and he loses your nipple, instinctively going to suck it again, but you shift down, rub your breasts together, kissing him, rubbing the nape of his neck as he moans, mouth shifting to his neck—another prime erogenous zone for you both—then nipples. Your teeth graze it and he carefully tugs your hair. Electric. Your stroke down his back, ass, circling, massaging, hands and water wiping the sand away.

“What part of you should I rub on next, hmm?”

“What part of me do you wanna come on next?” he asks, eyes heavy, warm.

You slowly tongue a nipple while rubbing the delicate skin between his cheeks. His hands slides down your back, lightly scratching the small of it, adding to the shivers and tickly but achy arousal, making circles with his fingertips—warm breeze and endless massages and fucking and syrupy tanginess—and you want to make love with this boy until the oceans dry out.

You shift up to his neck, shyly on the earlobe because that’s kind of a weird spot for you but he leans into it, moans deep, and his hand slips between your cheeks too, massaging… “Can’t decide if I wanna screw your nipples or ass next?” you pant out low in his ear, aching to come again..

“Fuck. Please. Goddess knows we’ve got lots of time for both…”

You sure do. You grind on his nipples, slide up to his mouth, back and forth until you come twice more. You look back because you hear it, and guess who’s come out to play again? He’s carressing, stroking over himself, rocking into it. So you reverse yourself, lean over to suck, tongue him down some more. Unlike with male humans, you love him coming in your mouth, suck and swallow it all down; he’s got a nectar taste to him that has you seeing yellow and pink and orange. Why don’t human males taste like this subtle sweetness? Precum in men can taste nice, often little taste, but not even sweet like this.

He massages over what he can get to as you just lay on him, panting, nuzzling his dick and balls, breathing each other in, him lazily nosing, mouthing your vulva back. Breathing now mostly in sync.

You do that tip around clit thing again, then go back to rubbing your vulva along his shaft… Kissing him silly before you come again, riding it out.

You get another massage, on your belly, mostly in the water this time, him going under to get at the front of your pelvis, vulva, caressing you into bliss, then more seriously into ache. Makes you need him, that you’re getting tired, exhausted fading in importance, giving him a massage back, cunt rocking along whatever parts your hands aren’t covering. The only thing that would make this better would be a proper bed and oils. Flavored oils. Fuck, all the crazy ways you could slip, slide, rock, grind, massage… together. You especially want to scissor the fuck out of him. When you’re less sleepy, anyway. Not that most ways to scissor are high effort.

Even this precious boys feet are erogenous, especially the webbed toes… The back of his knees. Inner thighs, small of his back, side of the neck like you, but his back generally too. Hips. Including with nibbles, teeth scrapes. The nape too, which you discover as you’re sucking, licking, biting lightly on his neck, shoulder as you screw on his bum, desperate to come, sore with the need “Such a good boy.” The orgasm overtakes you, and you slide onto his back, cuddling him close, recovering from dizziness, needing snuggles and squishes and nuzzles. Fluffy clouds in the sky. A sunset. Smell, sight, sound of a crackling fire.

Soon after, he’s moving under you to get on his hands and knees, legs spread. “More?” He doesn’t have to ask you twice. He adjusts with you, spreading to get his ass in the best position, and you get him by the shoulders, hips, to press him close to you, fucking in short, firm humps. He’s almost as noisy as you (mostly from you also fucking his balls), rocking into it.

“Bet you’d come from this if you hadn’t come so much already,” you moan out, guttural, fucking faster onto him.

He moans helplessly, reaches down, strokes himself about four times, and is doing just that, adding even more to your wantneedplease. You can’t decide whether to stroke that penis and scrotum of his until he’s cresting again…. Or make him wait a bit, till you come a couple more times, then go down on him again, or kiss, lick, his ass while you stroke his dick and balls… You tell him most of it.

“Or if we had a bed, could just hump it a few times… oh, fuck, and I’d be done for. But your ideas? Even better.” Turning to a plea to come all over his ass, let him hear it, please, as you started panting you were close, and it became two orgasms in a row.

“Can’t be upright anymore, dear Goddesses,” you pant, hands inviting him on top of you. His dick slots between your thighs, labia, to your joy, and you two grind together, him coming in seconds, you following a couple minutes later.

B’s dick retracts again, but you keep grinding on his hip, thigh, breasts, balls scissoring and otherwise, the area between thigh and groin or bum, depending on how positioned. Hetero scissoring is weird, usually unimaginable/unimagined to most humans, even at first to some of your lovers, but certainly not to him, the minx. Very nymphy too. He keeps using his mouth, hands, thigh, ass, foot. All until… you think your clit broke. Glans especially, but probably the hood and bulbs too. Or is on vacation or in clitoris and vulva recovery hospital for the next couple hours at least. Glans too sensitive for fucking, he does give gentle smoochies, massages, licks to the rest of your vulva, especially careful on the inner lips. Wrapped in red velvet.

The sun starts to rise, several hours after you started, and he invites you home for more. After some food and a nap, and clit recovery, do you ever take him up on it.

—

You love everyone you have sex with, albeit in somewhat different ways, some probably deeper than others, but you think you love him most. At least so far. You think it after you shower together, kissing, giggling, humping, squishing, washing each other, until your fingers and toes wrinkle up, when he’s going down on you in the bathroom, fingers in his hair, until you’re sloppy slick again. By the way, he loves the detachable showerhead too, especially on his genitals, anus, thighs, scalp, even bumcheeks… It makes you want to find a waterfall with him later. As you straddle him, rocking on his ass, massaging him back with oils, still slick yourself, crying it out as you come. Again. As he’s straddling you, your legs spread to open up, grinding his balls and your upper cunt together, both coming a couple times before he collapses, dizzy, for kisses and now lazy rocking. Both drifting off like that briefly, before schlucking apart for food, soft songs, switching between feeding each other, playing with yourselves, humping, hands on the other, going down on each other, sucking each other’s tastes off the other’s fingers and genitals and all over…

—

A couple days later, you wish you had months together. You make love for hours, even more days than you have together with only breaks for eating and naps, if anything, more insatiable than you normally are, with other sirens even. You’ve had so many orgasms your womb, vulva, especially the bud, ache. His penis has reached the point it won’t erect, or even be softly limp, staying retracted to a little nub for the last couple hours as he kept helping you feel pleasure, orgasms, even when you kiss, stroke, lick, rub your cunt over his hips, scrotum, nub, balls, nipples, buttocks, back, webbed toes, mouth…  You knew guys would still be into all sorts of things, on you and them, limp, but he’s still up (well in) for all sorts too also when retracted, even going easy on the nub that one can just tell is really halved when it’s hiding away.

You manage to remember your plans with your mom and sister for that museum, calling and briefly talking while you rock on his offered thigh, his lips trailing over your shoulder, collarbone, neck before you have to break it off to moan and beg him to not stop sucking softly there, grinding firmer until you come again. You’ve lost count of the orgasms.

He massages your belly, hips, thighs, pelvis, outer furry vulva when you’re sore from all the sex, aches in much of it. Turning into stroking your inner flesh, just to feel good, still avoiding the glans. Back and forth over the areas, as you nibble on berries, eyes slipping shut, nodding off.

You wake about an hour later, and you stink of sex. The two of you. You love it. Don’t want to shower. You nuzzle against his backside, rocking, stroke down his front, but this ass fucking doesn’t stay the one way. After you come twice, sleepily but eagerly, you go on your belly, wriggling, inviting him to climb aboard, rocking into the bed while he humps between your thighs and over your cheeks. Followed by some more sleepy scissory fucking, vulva to scrotum, and bits to thighs, then his face buried between your thighs like it was his main meal, even though you two really should eat. An actual meal, that is.

“Pussy is my favorite food…” he sighs.

—

You’re supposed to leave the next morning, so you call your mom, asking if you can stay, at least skip out on the next town, that you’ll head back home with them in a couple days as planned. You resist the urge to go into great detail why. You’ve met someone. Yes, of course you’ll get his number, but really, you want to keep making love for the next couple days if you can help it.

And such a rarity, even by siren standards, really should be thoroughly enjoyed. This siren should be fully appreciated for how wonderful he is.

“Wait, siren? He?”