Someone like Rick.
A man with an air of mystery, and a gaze that was not disgusted by my appearance. Would he let me touch him? Wrap my tentacles around his wrists, his legs, his cock…
I had to calm my body and mind from the carnal thoughts Rick had brought in me and pushing through the water was the workout I needed.
Chapter Two
Rick
I’dlefttherestaurant,but I was far from ready to go home. The evening chill hadn’t cleared my head of images of the smiling waiter, but maybe a walk on the beach would, so I headed in that direction.
Sharing what I’d been working on hadn’t been a bright idea, but I didn’t regret it. I’d spent years hiding my identity to separate my private life from my work, only to ask a random stranger for his opinion. But that was it. Whenever I asked someone from the music world, they nodded and told me it was good. I needed raw and honest feedback, not platitudes. Just one more reason Nereus couldn’t know who I was.
The hum of the ocean blended with the whispering breeze in a calming song. I took my shoes off to let my feet sink into the sand as I walked alongside the shoreline. The beach was my happy place. It brought back a myriad of memories of family birthday parties under a canopy, playing all day with my brother in the sand when we were little, then when we were older, flirting with tourists looking for a summer fling.
Yet, even sand between my toes and the smell of the ocean for hours a day hadn’t helped me return to writing music. I’d been trying to think of better ways to find a new sound for the next album, whether it would come from a synthesizer, keyboard, or my guitar, but it was beyond me. My lack of inspiration and inability to create for months now only proved my suspicions. I was a fraud, an impostor. And the three successful albums had been a fluke.
Since I could remember, songs had come to me day and night, the lyrics, the music, all of it. But I’d been in a complete slump since my brother had left the band. He’d told the remaining three of us to continue without him. The band needed fresh blood, but I couldn’t imagine working with anyone new. Our manager Frank hired a studio on Star Island and invited a bunch of musicians to audition for the band but it had been a complete disaster.
My brother had been the genius behind the keyboard and synths and I’d convinced the band that we could play his recordings during live concerts. But now, we were expected to record a new album. And I had nothing.
Everyone, even our fans, had been understanding of my withdrawal for the first few months. Now, as we were about to return to touring, our manager expected a new album from us. I could sing and play my guitar on stage, but I was unable to write a song that was worth listening to. Even people-watching at cafes and on the beach hadn’t helped. No one had sparked my interest enough to become a star of a song where I’d tell the story I’d imagine for them.
Until today.
I kicked the sand as I walked, the image of Nereus fresh in my mind. I’d been coming to that restaurant for weeks and the sight of the lean man with a radiant smile made an eagerly recurring customer out of me. His iridescent teal hair falling in waves around his face and barely reaching his nape had been the first thing I’d noticed about him. Since then, I’d come for lunch or coffee every day, working on finding inspiration and sounds on my laptop but finding him more fascinating. From the first moment I’d seen him balance dishes on his tentacles as he flashed his dimples at the clients, I couldn’t get him out of my head. His demeanor screamed of lightheartedness that was so far out of my reach it hurt to watch, while at the same time amping the urge in me to grasp it.
He was the epitome of light and positivity. Everything that my life lacked.
A chill ran down my spine as I realized I was humming something new. It was just a melody, but to me, it was so much more. With every song I’d ever written came a feeling, and a set of colors. This one was warm with the contrast of iridescent teal.
Like his hair.
When I’d heard him humming one of my songs as he took my order, all my rational thoughts had flown out the window. I’d needed opinions on my latest work, but at that moment, I had to havehisopinion.
A rustle in the bushes to my left startled me but I stayed quiet, parking my ass on the sand. A tall figure dropped something in the greenery and walked towards the ocean. My heart sped up in alarm at the thought of someone marching into the deadly waves so late at night.
Until I saw the tentacles.
The unmistakable shape of Nereus, completely naked, was bathed in the moonlight, his perfect ass flexing as he stretched his hands and rolled his shoulders.
Mesmerized, I watched him reach the shore and pause several steps into the water. His body vibrated, and with its own mini boom, transformed his legs into tentacles. I couldn’t see properly in the near darkness but a second later, Ner disappeared into the depths of the waves.
Can the ocean waves of your touch wash away the heavy sand filling my soul?
I gasped as my mind filled with words. Fumbling in my jeans, I fished out my phone to fire up my notes app and write down the line.
Can the shape of you in the moonlight illuminate the darkness of my life?
My thumbs flew over the keyboard, and I lost myself wherever my mind was taking me. This was how I used to write lyrics. Anywhere and at any odd time and moment that inspiration would hit. Not for months. Until now. With a document full of jumbled lines, I grabbed my laptop bag and trudged back through the sand. The song of the ocean waves lured me to look back over my shoulder one last time.
Nereus was still under water.Is he content swimming in the dark depths?
Maybe I should dip my toes in, just to feel the waves on my skin? I swayed on my feet, hesitating. My mind supplied me with an image of Nereus emerging from the water only to take me into his arms and do wicked things to me. My cheeks flushed as I imagined his tentacle diving into my pants as the other one wrapped around my neck to hold me in place.
I shook my head, turned on my heel, and ordered an Uber to take me home.
The empty house greeted me with eerie silence as I told the house system to turn the lights on. I’d bought the place with my first paycheck from our second album, the one that skyrocketed us to fame. The third album paid for several cars that I’d had in Hot Wheels form as a child. That was our last album to date. Two years ago. Non-stop touring had consumed most of the year following the release until we had to cancel. And Linc had left the band.
