His hands slid lower, tracing the curve of my waist, the flare of my hips, the sensitive line where my human skin gave wayto siren scales. When his fingers found that transition point and stroked along it, I gasped—the sensation almost too intense.
"There," he murmured, satisfaction in his voice. "That's a new note. A high one." He stroked again, and I keened at the sensation. "Beautiful." His fingers traced lower, following the line of my tail until they found my vent. The scales had already parted, my body opening for him, and when he slid one finger along the edge of the opening, I shuddered.
"So wet for me already," he breathed, his finger dipping inside to stroke along my sensitive folds. "So ready to be filled." He pressed deeper, finding my entrance, circling it without pressing inside. "But not yet. First, I want to make you come with just my mouth."
He slid lower in the water, positioning himself between my thighs. His hands spread me open, exposing my vent to his hungry gaze, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks at the intimacy of it.
"Beautiful," he murmured, his breath warm against my most sensitive flesh. "Pink and perfect and dripping for me. Like a flower opening just for me."
His tongue traced along the edge of my vent, and I cried out at the sensation. He was gentler than Riven, more patient than Kaelan—each stroke deliberate, each movement designed to build the pleasure in layers rather than overwhelm me all at once.
He licked into me slowly, his tongue exploring every fold, every sensitive spot. When he found my entrance, he pressed inside, tasting the deepest parts of me, and I sobbed at the intimacy of it. His tongue stroked in and out, mimicking what his cock would do later, and I felt the pleasure building low in my belly.
"That's it," he murmured against my flesh, the vibration making me shudder. "Let me hear you. Sing for me."
His tongue found the soft spot at the base of the vent and circled it with devastating precision—slow, deliberate strokes that built the pleasure in agonizing layers. He seemed to know exactly how much pressure I needed, exactly how fast to move, exactly where to touch.
"Vale," I gasped, my hands finding his silver hair, threading through the silken strands. "Please—I'm going to?—"
"Not yet." He pulled back slightly, denying me the stimulation I craved. "Let it build. Let it rise. The longer you wait, the more beautiful the crescendo." He returned to my vent with feather-light touches—barely there, just enough to keep me on the edge. I sobbed with frustration, trying to push against his mouth, but his hands on my hips held me still.
"Patience," he murmured, his lips brushing against my sensitive flesh. "Trust me. I'm going to make you feel things you've never felt before." He slid two fingers inside me without warning, and I cried out at the sudden fullness. His fingers curled, finding that spot deep inside me, and began to stroke it in time with the gentle movements of his tongue on the edge of my vent.
The dual stimulation was overwhelming. I could feel the pleasure building like a wave, rising higher and higher. His fingers stroked that perfect spot while his tongue circled my vent in a rhythm that seemed designed specifically to drive me mad.
"Now," he breathed against my flesh. "Now sing for me."
His tongue pressed hard against my vent opening, his fingers curled deep inside me, and I shattered. The orgasm ripped through me in waves—endless, overwhelming, crashing over me again and again. I screamed his name into the crystalline cavern, the sound echoing off the walls, harmonizing with itself until it sounded like a chorus. My inner walls clenched around his fingers, my whole body trembling with the force of my release.
He didn't stop.
His fingers kept moving, kept stroking that spot inside me. His tongue kept circling my vent, gentler now but still persistent. Before the first orgasm had fully faded, I felt a second one building—higher, faster, more intense.
"Vale—" I gasped, my voice breaking. "I can't—it's too much?—"
"You can," he murmured against my flesh. "One more. Give me one more before I fill you." His fingers pressed harder, his tongue moved faster, and the second orgasm crashed through me with devastating intensity. I screamed again, my body convulsing, and I heard him moan against my flesh—felt his satisfaction through the bond at bringing me such pleasure.
He withdrew his fingers slowly, making me whimper at the emptiness, and slid back up my body. I felt his vent opening against my tail, felt his length emerging—hot and hard and ready.
"Now," he murmured, positioning himself at my entrance. "Now I'm going to fill you. And I'm going to watch your face as you take every inch of me."
Through the dim light filtering through the crystals, I could see his cock for the first time—silver-blue like his scales, elegant and beautiful. His ridges were different from Kaelan's or Riven's—more delicate, more intricate, swirling in artistic patterns that looked almost decorative. But as his tapered tip pressed against my entrance, I felt how sensitive they were—each ridge designed to stimulate, to pleasure, to create sensation.
He pressed forward slowly, and I felt the first ridge slip inside me. The sensation was different—smoother than Riven's sharp edges, more intricate than Kaelan's spiral patterns. Each ridge seemed to vibrate slightly as it entered me, creating a tingling sensation that spread through my inner walls.
"Oh," I breathed, my eyes widening. "That's—that feels?—"
"I know." His smile was beautiful, satisfied. "Siren males can make their ridges vibrate. Most don't have the control for it. But I've spent centuries learning to control every part of my body." He pressed deeper, and another ridge slipped inside, tingling and vibrating against my sensitive walls. "I'm going to make you feel things none of the others can."
He pressed deeper still, ridge after ridge slipping inside me, each one vibrating at a slightly different frequency. I could feel them individually—the first ridge vibrating fast and light near my entrance, the second vibrating slower and deeper, the third pulsing in waves that made me gasp. The sensations layered on top of each other—pleasure building on pleasure, stimulation building on stimulation. By the time he was fully seated inside me, buried to the hilt, I was already trembling on the edge of another orgasm. I could feel every vibrating ridge pressed against my inner walls, each one humming at its own frequency, creating a symphony of sensation inside my body.
"So full," I gasped, feeling every vibrating ridge pressing against my inner walls. "So—I can feel them humming inside me?—"
"I know." He held himself still, letting me adjust, letting me feel the full effect of his unique gift. My inner walls clenched around him involuntarily, and the vibration intensified in response—like his ridges were singing back to my body. Through the bond, I could feel his satisfaction—his pride at being able to give me something the others couldn't. "Now let me show you what I can really do."
He began to move—slowly at first, each thrust deliberate and deep. As he moved, he changed the vibration of each ridge, creating waves of sensation that washed through me with each stroke. When he pulled back, I felt each ridge drag against my sensitive walls, still vibrating, the sensation almost too much to bear. When he thrust forward again, the ridges entered me insequence, each one adding its own note to the melody building inside me.
In and out, each thrust sending a new pattern of tingles through my inner walls, each withdrawal leaving me desperate for more. I could feel the vibrations changing with each stroke—sometimes fast and intense, sometimes slow and deep, sometimes pulsing in patterns that seemed designed to drive me mad.
