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Floyd meets him— surprises him, really— at the equestrian club's stables. Practice had just ended minutes ago, leaving Riddle alone in the stables to brush out Vorpal's coat. She was preparing for the winter season and her shedding was certainly no joke, prompting a bit more grooming than usual.
He whistles when he arrives at Vorpal's stall, startling Riddle out of his head as he turned to find him grinning. The fright melts into something warmer once Riddle realizes it's Floyd.
"Nearly forgot how fancy those uniforms are." He gives a little wave towards Vorpal, "Hi, horsie."
Riddle smiles, despite himself. "What do you need, Leech?"
"Well, you said we'd have a study date after your club let out, so here I am."
"On the dot," he says, a bit delighted, "Are you so eager to study?"
"Oh, sure. Super stoked to go over practical magic techniques… or whatever we're going over today."
He's waved in by Riddle, who hands him a brush. Vorpal is getting spoiled today, it would seem.
Floyd coos as he follows Riddle's lead, brushing through his steed's thick coat in wide strokes. "Pretty, just like her owner. How'd you train her to be so calm?"
"It's just a matter of patience and discipline, like with any animal," he says, smoothing a hand over Vorpal's side, "it isn't so different from domesticating you, either."
He recieves a pinch to his side for the little jab. They continue in pleasant silence for another few moments until Vorpal's coat is smooth and neat. Riddle hands Floyd a training treat once they're finished, smiling as Vorpal practically inhales it from his hand.
"Sometimes I feel as though animals are easier to get along with, you know," confesses Riddle quietly, scratching at Vorpal's side. Right where he knew she liked. A spot he found by happy accident one day while brushing her coat, just like this. "At times, it seems as if I understand them better than people."
Next to him, Floyd hums. "Maybe that's why we get along so well, huh?" He says, imitating the motion of a wave with his arm and hand. "I'm technically not even human."
He's completely right and it sparks a realization that Riddle has never seen him. Not his merman form, not the— eel parts. That realization quickly makes way for curiosity, which makes more way for a question.
"Just how… bestial are you?" asks Riddle, "The real you, that is."
And something about the way Floyd hums again, so low that he may as well be purring, sets Riddle off. He already regrets asking the question but he's nowhere to run now, staring up at two rows of sharp teeth as Floyd grins.
"D'you wanna find out?"
If he tries to delude himself with technicalities, he can almost relax. Technically, the school is open to its students on a 24/7 basis. Technically, this means students can access the school after dark. Technically, this would include the facilities, like the pool in the gymnasium. So technically, they aren't breaking any rules.
He doubts the headmaster would actually entertain his technicalities, but it's too late now. Floyd is practically bouncing on the heels of his feet as he shrugs his school uniform off, leaving his clothes in a wrinkled heap to the side of the pool. Riddle glances over his shoulder every few moments, unable to shake the anxious flutter in his stomach.
"Relax," says Floyd, "nobody comes here this late. It's just you an' me."
Riddle turns back to Floyd just as he's shucking off his boxers. He's quick to look away, muttering under his breath. "Thank goodness for that."
"Why're you shy all of a sudden? You've seen me naked plenty of times."
"That's obviously different," he snaps, flustered, "that's— in the privacy of our dorms. No one else ought to be privy to that information but me."
Floyd giggles. "Didn't know you were so possessive."
He's only teasing, but Riddle doesn't totally deny it. He stays quiet until he hears a splash, finding nothing when he whips around. No Floyd— at least on land. There's a distinctly human shape in the pool that turns into something… bigger. Something long takes the place of where his legs ought to be and Riddle quickly realizes it's his tail. A real fish tail gliding through the water like a bullet, swimming circles around the pool and Riddle's head.
Now, Riddle knew the basic anatomy of a fish.
Biology was one of his favorite subjects as a child if only for the anatomical diagrams of animals in his textbooks, intrigued with the illustrations of predator hunting prey and captivated by the descriptions of bones and muscle. Ocean life was no different; the single visit to the aquarium with his mother was one of his favorite memories.
But no textbook or aquarium could have prepared him for Floyd.
Riddle can't do much else but stare at the man— merman— in the water. He's big. Floyd already towered over him at a good six feet but here, his tail alone sits at a good four feet. Long is a better word for him. He's so long. There are certainly more suitable words but Riddle can't think of any of them right now, not when Floyd swims right up to him and cages him against the edge of the pool.
"Well?" he says, hardly breaking a sweat after the six or so laps he just swam, "Whaddya think? Impressed, huh?"
His skin is shining. Even in the dark he glows, his body bioluminescent like the moray eels Riddle had seen in the aquarium when he was a child. Pretty as they were, Riddle thinks, they hardly held a candle to Floyd.
He reaches out to touch with careful hands, which is silly— he's touched Floyd plenty of times before now, but this is different. Floyd feels different. He reacts a little differently too, tensing for a moment when Riddle's fingertips meet his skin before relaxing. There's trust in the way he lets Riddle's hands skim over the fins on his arms, over the smattering of freckles along his shoulders and down to his hands.
Riddle warms at the idea. Just like Vorpal, and just like the hedgehogs. He traces the webbing between Floyd's fingers and can't help but laugh, a bit breathless by it all.
"Yes," he says honestly, "I'm extremely impressed. You're beautiful, Floyd."
It takes them both a little by surprise. Riddle feels heat rise to his face the longer he looks Floyd in the eyes so he focuses his attention on his skin instead. Notes the different colors, how his pale abdomen bleeds into a darker color the lower he goes, how sharp his hip bones are. The rest of him is just as defined, undoubtedly from years of hunting and swimming through something as vast as the ocean.
Of course he'd look this way. Of course his arms would feel this solid under Riddle's hands. Of course they'd feel good around his waist, which is right where they found themselves with Riddle so distracted.
Floyd had always been big, but like this, he feels like a threat. His hands feel giant from where they squeeze Riddle's waist, the rest of his upper body pressed against his lap like a clingy pet vying for attention.
"That sounded real nice coming from your pretty mouth." He croons. Water seeps through Riddle's clothes and a shiver wracks his body. Floyd is cold like this, but his stare is hot as he leers up at him. "Say it again."
His voice does that odd thing where it drops a decibel and Riddle finds himself inclined to comply. "You're beautiful." He says, slipping his hands towards Floyd's neck, where fins replace his ears. They're thin and delicate under his fingertips and he doesn't miss the way Floyd's eyes flutter shut at the touch. "Is this alright?"
"Mhmm," Floyd leans into the palm of his left hand, "feels nice 'cause it's you."
Riddle goes dizzy for a moment. His face and chest feel so hot but his body is cold from the water, cold from Floyd— in fact, all of him is a mess because of Floyd. The way he just says these things, while looking like this and draping himself over him like that and worst of all, looking at him like there was no one else in the entire world but Riddle.
He leans in first. Riddle can hardly help but lean in first, tasting chlorine on his mouth and the subtle sweetness from the tart they shared earlier. Floyd is almost too eager to reciprocate, nearly dragging him into the pool with him with a kiss that's mostly tongue and teeth. Nails dig into his sides, tugging him forward and Riddle gasps, catching himself before he really fell head-first into the water.
Floyd whines when Riddle pulls back, tugging at his clothes. "C'mon, Goldfishie—"
"I won't ruin my uniform because of your impatience," he huffs, working on the buttons to his club uniform, "Just give me a moment."
He strips down to his underclothing embarrassingly quickly. Riddle is still clear-headed enough to at least fold his clothing into a neat pile next to his boots before he dips his feet into the pool. Another chill runs through his body; no wonder Floyd's body was freezing.
There's no time to adjust to the difference in temperature. Floyd pulls him in with an ungraceful splash and wraps himself around Riddle tight. His tail is so long it runs far past Riddle's legs, curling around them with a squeeze.
"Floyd—!" he squirms against his tail, "too tight!"
"Oops. Sorry," Floyd lets up but only a fraction, snaking his arms around Riddle's waist in an embrace, "I like to hold onto pretty things."
Riddle suddenly feels so, so small. His back presses against Floyd's chest and he realizes how fragile he is compared to him, compared to what he is. There's nothing stopping him from snapping his bones with a little squeeze of his tail, or biting into his neck and letting the water run red. There's nothing stopping him and yet Riddle knows he'd never dare. The pool is cold but the arms around his waist are warm, the tail wrapped around his legs is warm, and the lips that brush against the nape of his neck are the warmest thing he feels right now.
He doesn't want to speak, afraid that if he were to say it out loud, it'd disappear. Whatever it is. Riddle almost doesn't want to let himself hope and dream that it might be the thing he's only read about in the occasional novel. The same thing that makes people go mad and do mad things, like jump half naked into a pool after school hours.
Floyd kisses him before he can think too hard about it. He's pushed Riddle up against the side of the pool like trapped prey, grinding his hips against his in a way that ought to feel familiar, but—
All of those biology texts race through his mind. Riddle glances down and shame burns hot in his gut. He ought to be repulsed, but it's Floyd. He's had him more times than he could count (except he does count, each and every time) and so his body reacts before his mind can catch up to it, legs falling open on both sides of Floyd's waist to get him closer.
At this, Floyd laughs, a drunken giggle that stirs the heat pooling in Riddle's belly. "I didn't really think you'd wanna do it like this." His eyes, mismatched in color but equal in warmth, soften. He ducks his head into the crook of Riddle's neck, nuzzling against the heat of his skin. "You really like me, huh?"
Riddle barely trusts himself to speak. Fear grips him for a moment after the question because he knows: he does. He really does. As odd as their relationship is, as bizarre as the situation is, he does. And it's the sort of thing that ought to be said out loud, Riddle thinks.
"I do," he confesses, "very much."
Something vibrates against his throat. Floyd's hum is akin to a purr again, a satisfied noise leaving his chest.
"I like you a lot, too," he murmurs, teeth grazing his neck, "I don't think I'll ever get bored of you, Riddle."
The bite is gentle. Far more gentle than any bite Floyd has left— and he's left many— and Riddle's heart beats so loudly in his own ears at the fact, at the confession. The idea of Floyd never getting bored of him when he's so prone to boredom is thrilling. It's terrifying, it's wonderful.
"Your heart's goin' real fast," Floyd pulls back to look at him again, "fastest I've heard it go."
"I'm…" Riddle huffs out a laugh, terribly bashful, "Just a bit overwhelmed, is all."
Floyd matches his laugh with another giggle. His arms sweep under Riddle to pull him closer, and his smile is wicked and sharp as Riddle's legs wrap around his hips. "Are you too overwhelmed to keep going?"
The sight of his teeth should set off alarm bells in his head, not excite him further. Riddle gives a smile of his own and loops his arms around his neck, rising to the challenge. "Not at all."
It's a bit of a blur after that. Riddle tries to keep his gaze up, afraid of becoming too scandalized by his own choices, but happens to glance down at the right moment—and the sound that leaves Floyd's mouth at the first breach is enough to scandalize him for months to come. He's always been vocal, but this is different.
And it takes a moment for Riddle to realize how different it feels. It takes another to realize his own mouth was hanging open in a silent scream, fingers digging terribly into Floyd's skin.
When they first did this, Riddle was prepared. Well, as prepared as he could be in the heat of the moment, anyway. There was a condom, extensive foreplay that left him more frustrated than anything, and an extremely brief conversation on size.
"Will I fit?" Floyd had asked with a little frown, "I don't wanna break you."
And the sentiment was sweet. Riddle even remembers thinking it somewhat romantic at the time, but he was snappy.
"As if you could," he said, "unless you want to prove me wrong?"
Floyd didn't, but came damn near close. However, looking at him now… now…
Riddle's hold on him turns vice-like the more he presses inside. There's so much, and panic begins to set in for a moment as he wonders where it will all go inside of him.
"Leech," he gasps, "it won't— fit!"
It falls on deaf ears. Floyd drags his hips lower and lower until Riddle is flush against his lap and impossibly full. His legs shake, shoulders tremble but the pleasure coiling in his belly continues to wind up tight.
And worse still is that it isn't nearly as painful as he imagined. He'd done this sort of thing with Floyd enough times to know what to expect because in all honesty, he was still rather sizeable as a human compared to Riddle, so he knows how it feels. Likes it, craves it at times, even if he'd never admit it out loud.
Yet Riddle now struggles to form a single coherent word, mind trying and failing to keep up with what is happening to his body.
Floyd rubs his palm against his navel and Riddle chokes on a groan. He quickly knocks Floyd's hand away to feel for himself, fingers brushing over a—a subtle bump. It protrudes from the inside of his stomach, and the culprit looks just as surprised as Riddle.
"That's… never happened before," he says, "How— How does it feel?"
Riddle nearly punches him. Instead, he digs his fingers into his shoulders particularly hard, delighting in the yelp it draws out of him.
"Save the questions," Riddle swallows thickly, "until after we're finished here."
If there's one thing Floyd is, it's a good listener.
He gets a better grip on Riddle's hips before truly beginning to move, pulling out of his cunt just a fraction before pressing back inside. It's a smooth thing, once he gets a hang of it. Mind-numbingly smooth. Riddle tries to get an idea of the shape of his cock from how it feels inside of him, noting ridges and its large shape with a hazy mind. No matter what it looks like, it certainly feels good.
Like this, there's hardly anything else Riddle can do but hold onto Floyd and try not to drown. Not that Floyd would actually let him drown; as animal as he is, he's not completely gone. Riddle knows this because he keeps talking, a continous stream of pretty words and sweet nothings as he bounces him against his lap like some kind of toy.
Riddle lets out a sound somewhere between a sob and a moan at the comparison. He wouldn't have thought himself as something so lewd before Floyd. He wouldn't have ever considered doing something like this before Floyd. He'd never entertained the idea of his first kiss let alone actual intimacy before Floyd. There was just no reason to.
He leans up to kiss him, gripping the hair at the base of his neck tight. They're already so flush but he wants to get closer, needs to feel every inch of bioluminescent skin against his. Needs to kiss every freckle and fin, leave no curve untouched. For a moment he wonders who the more animalistic one between them really is.
"Y'feel really good," Floyd whines against his lips, "I like you a lot, Goldfishie, never wanna let you go."
It's everything he wants to hear. Riddle clings hard and kisses harder, fighting off the tears that gather in his eyes from the overwhelming pleasure and happiness he feels all at once. He doesn't trust himself to speak, but he hopes Floyd understands the message regardless: me too, he doesn't say, I've never felt this way about anyone but you.
Floyd's movements grow erratic. Water splashes around them brings Riddle out of his haze for a moment.
They've done this before, but Floyd's never— not inside. The consequences of an "accident" were too terrifying to consider. Riddle knows that, thinks of it even now, and yet doesn't put up any fight when Floyd grabs his hips with a bruising grip and moans, needy and low. It's enough to help Riddle along to his own climax, hips seizing when something hot and went pours into him. He sobs at the sensation, trapped in an endless feedback loop of pleasure for as long as it goes on.
Because it lasts longer than it typically does, though it might be due to Floyd's current state. Riddle can't recall the exact mating processes of eels but it hardly matters. His cock pulses with release and Floyd is still moving, chasing his orgasm down to the last millisecond.
"Too much," he tries, "Floyd, enough..!"
"Just a little more, just stay still—"
Riddle's body shudders a second time, legs going limp around his waist.
By the time he's finished, Riddle feels swollen. He grimaces at the sight of his bloated navel and feels Floyd's eyes on him, pinning him with a heated stare. He brings a webbed hand to the slight swell of his stomach and sucks in a breath.
"It's almost like you're… y'know," he exhales shakily, as if excited by the idea, "You look good like this. Prettier than you already are."
Riddle hates the way his belly heats at that. He ought to fear the idea, the possibility. The risk from a night of unchecked emotions and hormones. One he simply couldn't ignore for the sake of pleasure. One that he knows would get him pulled from Night Raven College and thrown back into a cage for the rest of his life.
He must look a bit pensive because Floyd nuzzles at his throat again. "Nothing'll happen, I don't think. It's just good for eggs, and 's not like you have any. Well… not those kinds, anyway. Not the fishie kinds."
Riddle, despite briefly spiraling into the consequences of his own actions, manages to huff out a laugh. It's true— he lacks the "fishie" kind of eggs that his release would be good for. A test would be the safest bet, but Riddle does allow himself to sigh in relief. He runs a hand through his hair, damp with poolwater and sweat, and regards Floyd with a half-hearted glare. "If anything does happen, I expect you to take responsibility."
"Does that mean you want me to propose?" Floyd grins, winding his tail around one of Riddle's legs in a slow slither. Riddle shivers in his arms, heat rising to his face at the teasing edge to his voice. "You wanna marry me, Goldfishie? You coulda just asked."
He would be lying if he said he hadn't considered it. High school relationships rarely last after graduation, but perhaps they would be different. Perhaps his mother would approve, by some miracle. Perhaps Riddle could accept that she might never approve of anyone. Perhaps they could…
"This—" He flounders for a moment, "This is purely a hypothetical situation, Leech. This is–is only if I—"
"Oh, so you want a baby first?" Floyd giggles, grinding his hips just enough to pull a gasp from Riddle. "I always thought marriage came first, but I like this backwards way better. Let's go back to your room and get started for real."
"Floyd." Riddle resists the urge to hide behind his hands, knowing it would only rile him up even more. Floyd always got a kick out of embarrassing him to the point of blushing. "Marriage first," he says, before quietly adding, "Then… we can discuss what comes after."
"Yeah?" he grins. "You swear?"
When Floyd kisses him, he doesn't hesitate. "I swear."