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Thor is woken up by a loud banging. He jerks from sleep—his dream fading from his grasp—and winces in irritation.
Slowly, the sound of the waves outside filters into his hearing, along with three more loud bangs against his door.
“Captain!”
He turns over and realizes that he’s hard in his sleeping pants. Nearly a year at sea with only his hand to keep him company. Maybe he should reconsider his policy of not sleeping with the crew, but that would lead to more trouble. He’d rather not stick his cock into trouble.
“Captain! There’s something you need to see outside!”
The banging continues until Thor pushes himself out of bed, dragging a shirt over his head in the process.
He jerks the door open and finds Sif, pale in the darkened corridor outside, her eyes wide.
“You sleep like the dead,” she tells him.
Thor yawns, pointedly, stretching his arms above his head for good measure.
“Charming,” Sif says. Then, her voice thickens with dread. “The men have pulled something out of the water.”
She’s frightened, Thor realizes, and suddenly his heart is beating that much faster.
“Let’s take a look then,” Thor says, gripping her shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze.
--
They’ve got the thing tangled in a net and drawn up above the ground. Underneath, the heaving net is surrounded by men holding cutlasses and pikes. The weapons don’t seem necessary, considering how the thing is barely moving inside. Its tail flops back and forth, scales shining in the early morning sun. Like a—like a fish. Which Thor supposes it what it could be, if not for the distinctly human upper half of its—his?—body.
“Should we kill it?” Fandral says, blunt, rapier held at the ready.
There’s very little sound from his normally raucous crew. Aside from the waves and the incessant screeching of seabirds overhead, there’s only the rasping, labored breathing from the creature in the net.
Thor strides forward, and his men part around him easily.
“Captain—“ someone starts, but Thor’s already unsheathed his cutlass.
The creature cries out, a harsh, haunting sound, and flinches as Thor brings his sword down.
The net falls open like a sheet of water.
Caught neatly in Thor’s arms, the mermaid trembles, slender fingers coming up to clutch at Thor’s shirt. The smell of the sea, deep and ancient, pervades Thor’s senses. He can almost taste the salt on his tongue.
“Someone fill the largest barrel we have with seawater,” Thor orders softly. “Bring it to my quarters.”
--
There’s a stray strand of seaweed nestled into the mermaid’s hair. When Thor moves forward to peel it off, the mermaid reels backwards as far as he can inside the barrel as he can.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Thor says.
The creature seems to understand, drifting closer until he can put his fingers on the edge of his pool and stare at Thor with wide, green eyes.
“My crew will think I’ve gone completely mad,” Thor says, laughing a little. “And maybe I have. The stories we’ve heard...”
The mermaid stares at Thor with a gaze that is entirely too knowing. Slowly, he reaches out, and touches the cloth of Thor’s shirt.
“It’s a shirt,” Thor says. “I don’t suppose you need these under the sea.”
The mermaid’s hand wanders past Thor’s shirt, fingers skimming at Thor’s skin.
“Like yours,” Thor says, and touches the pads of his fingers to the skin of the mermaid’s arm.
The mermaid opens his mouth, as if to speak, but no words come out. When he gives a huff of frustration, Thor laughs.
“You’re not so different from a human, are you?”
The creature pokes insistently at Thor’s skin, then starts running his hands across Thor’s shoulders, then down his chest, leaning too far outside the barrel that Thor has to catch him and gently push him back in.
“That’s, ah, we don’t really do that to acquaintances,” Thor says when the mermaid clings to Thor instead, wrapping arms around his neck and drawing their faces close.
Thor is reminded, suddenly, of the dream he woke out of this morning. A warm body pressed up against his, soft hands on his skin, the wet heat of a cunt sinking down on his cock.
He untangles himself from the mermaid as best as he can, his heart pounding in his ears.
He’s heard the stories. They all have.
Sirens who seduce men and drown them in the depths of the sea. That barrel’s not too deep, but Thor knows best out of anyone how dangerous water can be.
He slams the door shut behind him and leans against it, trying to find his breath.
--
By the time the sun has set, Thor has worked himself to the bone. He’s never been one to delegate tasks, and there’s a lot that goes into the upkeep of his ship. His men have been shooting looks at him all day, but it’s a testament to how much he has earned their respect that they say nothing.
The sun and the sea and the wind have helped clear his mind like nothing else. This morning, he’d let his guard down, but tonight would be different. He would sleep, and the mermaid would stay in his barrel, and when they docked on land again, Thor would sell the thing and live out his life in some cottage by the sea, with his mother and their goats.
When he tells Sif this, she looks at him as if he’s an idiot.
“You’re an idiot,” she says.
“It’s a good plan!” Thor says.
“Mmhm. Was the first step of that plan to catch him in your arms and make eyes at him? Is making half-siren babies part of that plan? Does it come before or after selling him like an animal?”
“I—you—that’s really not how you should be talking to your captain,” Thor sputters.
“Have fun trying to feed him,” Sif says, shoving a bucket of fish into his arms before strolling off.
In any case, The Plan is dashed from his mind as soon as he opens the door.
The mermaid jerks up from his tub, seemingly delighted to see Thor. He holds his arms out and Thor, almost as if ensorcelled, walks straight up to him.
The mermaid wraps his arms around Thor’s waist and buries his face in Thor’s stomach.
“Hello,” Thor murmurs, and the mermaid makes a noise in the back of his throat. It sounds like the gentle hum of waves.
“This is ridiculous,” Thor says. “You’re not even supposed to be real.”
The mermaid pulls away to look at Thor with pure disdain, and then goes back to resting his head on Thor’s stomach.
“Very seductive,” Thor says, dry. He holds the bucket up.
“Look,” he says, “dinner.”
The mermaid’s eyes widen, and then he grabs one of the fish, still wriggling and alive, opens his mouth, and crunches on the head.
He smiles up at Thor, fish tail flopping back and forth against his mouth.
Thor’s fairly sure he’s not supposed to think that was cute.
If this is what a mermaid’s spell does to someone’s senses, then Thor supposes he’s well and truly fucked.
--
“What are you doing?” Thor asks, as he’s getting into bed.
The mermaid has lifted himself up over the edge of his barrel and is wiggling around.
He pays Thor no mind, eventually managing to get most of himself over the edge, only to flop onto the floor with a wet thud.
“I can’t say I didn’t expect that,” Thor says, but he’s already hauling the mermaid up into his arms.
As he moves to slip the mermaid back into the water, the mermaid shakes his head, clutching at Thor.
“You don’t...want to be in there?”
Another shake.
“Do you...want to stay on the floor?”
A more vehement shake.
Thor sighs.
As he walks back towards his bed, the mermaid hums, low and deep, and contentment washes over Thor like the tide.
“This is ridiculous,” Thor says, probably for the tenth time today, as he lowers the mermaid onto his bed. “You’re going to get me all wet. Can you even survive out of water?”
In response, the mermaid reaches up, and presses his mouth to Thor.
--
Thor almost drowned, once.
He doesn’t remember much of it, only that he was a reckless child who had gone too far out to sea.
Taking that first, clear breath of air through his lungs after he’d been pulled out of the water was a feeling he’d never forget.
That’s what it feels like, Thor realizes, when the mermaid kisses him.
Sweet, clear, life-giving breath.
If this is what it means to drown, then Thor will gladly go to his death.
--
“Finally,” someone says.
Thor gasps, dropping the mermaid to the bed and tripping backwards over his feet. He stumbles and falls, hitting his head on the wall behind him.
“Oh dear, are you all right?”
The mermaid, Thor thinks wildly, the mermaid is talking.
“I’m genuinely worried now,” the mermaid says. “I wasn’t before, but you haven’t moved or stopped staring in quite a bit so I’m a bit concerned.”
“You can talk,” Thor says.
“Bravo,” says the mermaid. “Now, will you please get into this...this soft nest?”
“It’s called a bed,” Thor says, wobbling to his feet.
“Bed,” says the mermaid, running his hands all over Thor’s sheets. “I like it. Much more comfortable than kelp, but don’t tell my father I think that.”
“Have you been seducing me?” Thor asks.
“What could have possibly given you that impression?” the mermaid asks. He opens his arms. “Come here.”
“Needy,” Thor comments.
“Loki, actually,” the mermaid—Loki—says.
Thor takes a deep breath and walks over to where Loki is languidly stretched out on the bed. His tail flicks and slaps at Thor’s ass as soon as Thor gets close enough.
“You should hurry up,” Loki says. “The full moon’s not going to last forever, and the sea-witch gave me a tight deadline.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Thor says.
Loki sighs, then reaches down, between—between where his legs should be, Thor supposes. Only he doesn’t have legs, just a tail. A tail with a pink slit parting in the middle.
Thor swallows, hard.
“This is ridiculous,” Thor says again, already reaching out to touch.
Loki moans, a soft, quiet thing, when Thor’s fingers slip against his slit.
Loki is wet and soft, warm. His slit feels like a woman’s cunt, pulsing gently around Thor’s fingers when he probes deeper. He thinks of all the strange, slithery, squishy things down in the deepest parts of the ocean, then looks up at Loki, his cheeks flushed pink, his scales shimmering in the dim lamplight from Thor’s bedside. He slides his fingers in deeper.
“Is that—ah—is that all you’re going to do?” Loki teases.
In response, Thor leans down and drags his tongue, flat, against the length of Loki’s slit, then tightening to a point where a woman’s clit should be. He expects to taste salt, but Loki tastes fresh and clear, like springwater. Thor licks again, and again. And again.
Loki slaps his hands over his mouth and shudders.
“Gods,” Loki whines. His tail thumps against the bed, restless.
“Move over,” Thor says, wincing at how rough his voice sounds. He puts himself into bed, steadying his knees on either side of Loki’s tail, and slides three fingers into his opening.
Loki buries his face in Thor’s neck and breaths, hah—ah—ahhh.
“I was going to sell you,” Thor confesses, his fingers fucking in and out of Loki. “I was going to make an ungodly amount of money out of you and live a good life.”
“Liar,” Loki laughs, then dissolves into another whine, hands scrabbling at Thor’s chest, then at Thor’s breeches, pawing at the laces. “You wanted to keep me as soon as you saw me.”
“I could still sell you,” Thor says, breathless, as Loki pulls down his pants and reveals his cock to the cold air and Loki’s wet skin. “Do you know how much men would pay to stick their cocks into you?”
“You wouldn’t,” Loki gasps, “you wouldn’t, you’re too selfish, you’re—ohhh— ”
“I wouldn’t, you’re right,” Thor grits out, rolling Loki onto his back and sliding his cock against Loki’s sopping wet slit.
“I’d keep you here, with me, on your back or on my lap, filled with my cock and fingers like you deserve.”
“You humans are filthy,” Loki says, with a burst of delighted laughter.
Thor can only groan, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of Loki’s exquisite wet heat around him.
“That’s it, darling,” Loki says, then hums that deep, rushing hum, like the tide coming up to kiss the shore.
--
Thor wakes up to the sound of a loud clatter.
He grumbles, turning over in his sleep, trying to remember his dream. It had been good, he knows, though all he can remember is the shimmer of scales and the roar of the ocean.
“Sorry,” Loki says. “I can’t get these stupid things to work properly.”
Thor sits up with a jolt, and Loki is getting up off the floor, standing shakily on two legs.
The sky is lightening outside, the barest hints of dawn creeping into the room through the small porthole.
“Hey,” Loki says, smiling nervously. He wobbles, and Thor scrambles out of bed to catch him.
“You have legs,” Thor says.
“You are very good at stating the obvious,” Loki says.
Thor bears them both down to his bed, staring at Loki with wonder.
“You were a mermaid,” he says. “You had — you had a tail— ”
“I sort of, ah, made a deal with someone. The bottom of the ocean is dreadful, you know, and there’s really not much to do there, and it’s so much nicer up here, and brighter, and I wanted to see the sun when it came up. I love the sun. You can imagine we don’t get much of it down there.”
Loki smiles nervously at Thor again, but it drops when Thor only stares.
Softly, he asks, “Do you...do you not like me anymore? Like this?”
“I can’t sell you like this,” Thor says, gruff.
Loki blanches, pulling away from Thor’s arms.
Thor shakes his head, pulling him closer, tighter.
“I suppose I’ll have to keep you.”
Loki makes an outraged noise, wrapping himself around Thor and clinging tight.
“You’re awful,” Loki says.
“You’re not a mermaid,” Thor wheezes, as Loki squeezes him, “you’re a barnacle.”
“You’re never getting rid of me,” Loki says, muffled against Thor’s neck.
Thor wraps his arms around Loki, drawing him to sit more comfortably on his lap.
“Hey, Loki,” Thor says, nudging him to turn around. From the porthole, tendrils of golden light spill into the room. “The sun’s coming up.”
“I know,” Loki says, reaching up to frame Thor’s face in his hands.