Making Bubbles Read online

  Alphas might be able to give me a baby, but Flounder gave me his heart.

  As we lie down in this strange human contraption meant to hold water, I can see how worried Flounder is, even in the afterglow. Worrying is his natural state. He worried that I was too cold at night. He worried about the seaweed harvest. He worried that I was going to leave him to sing for an alpha. I could see the tension in his shoulders every time the catacombs vibrated from the Sea King’s call.

  He greatly underestimates the level of satisfaction I get from that glorious dick of his. And how much I melt every morning when he tells me “Thank you for spending the night,” with this vulnerability on his face that could cut through even the most jaded of hearts.

  “Just think, we never have to catch Bass napping on the netting again,” I sign, climbing on top of him. In my human form I can straddle him, which makes it easier to rock against his belly with my hips. I desperately need him to penetrate me and claim me in my mer form. The two orgasms he’s given me tonight have been nice, but our song makes me ache for him in a different way. The water is only a few inches high at this point, and not nearly enough for me to shift yet, so I’ll have to wait.

  “But you could have stayed at home if you weren’t with me,” he signs.

  I guide his right hand to the cleft of my ass. There are better things he can be doing with that hand than signing about what I “could have done without him.”

  “I don’t want to be at home without you,” I say. He grabs my ass cheeks with both hands and skims his fingers along my entrance. I close my eyes. I need him inside me now.

  He pushes in just the tip of one finger, and I lean into it, taking in more. The water level gets higher as Flounder sinks his finger deeper inside. I already want a second finger. I already want his cock. The water is still only covering my thighs, but I rock forward, bringing my legs together on top of Flounder so I can shift. I’m lying flat against Flounder now, with my tail outstretched behind me. It’s too long. My fin is draped over the side, and the air is terribly dry. But it feels good to be in my mer form with Flounder. Both the scales around my cock and my entrance are open for him. I kiss him, and guide his hand back to my ass. He runs his finger along my scales, dipping one back inside of me. I feel him shift from human to mer underneath me. His scales rub against my own, and I moan.

  He adds another finger, splashing water over us. Flounder is a sensitive lover. He can probably tell that my back feels parched. His body twists underneath mine, and I sink into the water next to him. We both lie on our sides, kissing and writhing against each other. The desperation I’ve felt for him all night intensifies. I can’t wait any longer. Something happened during that song. What I have with Flounder isn’t just a rut between omegas, and it isn’t just love either. It’s something deeper. Seafoam said he thought we bonded. I think he’s only half right.

  I think bonding is what we’re about to do now.

  Flounder’s fingers retreat and his hand pushes against my shoulder. Without signing anything I know what he wants me to do. I flip around until my back is pressed against his chest. He kisses me and guides his cock to where I’m open for him. He enters me slowly. It’s always like this with Flounder. It’s never enough for him that I’m open, even though he knows I wouldn’t be if I didn’t want him. He always has to check in, always has to make sure. I grind my ass back into him, impatient. Can’t he feel this urgency? Can’t he sense that we need more than the song to complete this?

  Because Flounder is a sensitive lover, even if he can’t feel the urgency himself, he senses it in me. His pace quickens, and he grabs my hip to drive into me with more force. The water sloshes all around us, splashing over the side, and forming bubbles, just like when we rut at home. I push against the cold stone in front of me to gain leverage and buck back into him. He feels hot and thick inside me—he feels right. But I need more. There’s something I’m missing. The water is deeper now, almost deep enough to cover us. In this small space the way the water rocks and swishes with our bodies adds momentum. Flounder is slamming into me much rougher than he ever has. Normally, he’s a kind soul, sexually and otherwise. Making love to him is slow and sweet, and that’s the way I like it. There’s nothing slow about this. The way he fucks me is animalistic and raw. And yet it’s still not enough.

  He roars in frustration. The speed of his hips is frantic and desperate. And then something changes. At first I don’t quite sense what it is, but once I sort it out, the difference is unmistakable. The base of Flounder’s cock is larger.

  I’ve heard omegas go on and on about how satisfying a knot feels. But only omegas lucky enough to be chosen as fathers by the alphas ever get to feel one. The Sea King’s magic can enable an alpha to create a knot, but only a few select alphas are granted that privilege. Of course, when an omega is chosen to be a father, the focus is always on the impending pregnancy and miracle of birth, but there’s also excitement about the sex.

  Flounder’s fingers grip my hip harder. He must feel it too. He moans in my ear as it gets larger—too big to pull out. He’s locked inside me, still expanding. There’s a moment when I wonder if it will be too much. I panic and squirm against him. He gently licks along the gills on my neck, trying to sooth me. Just when I’m sure I can’t take anymore he stops growing. His hand on my hip slides across my chest, and he holds me in his arms.

  Is this a part of bonding, regardless of whether the couple includes an alpha? Or is this because of that stretch of sensitive skin along the base of Flounder’s cock? And more importantly, does this mean that Flounder could give me a child? At thirty-eight I’m far too old to be considered as a suitable candidate to carry a baby, but would it be possible?

  Flounder begins grinding his knot into me. He’s so big it almost hurts, but it’s a good hurt. I rock back into him. His thrusts are shorter and choppier for a while, until our bodies learn to writhe as one. Something deep inside of me hooks into something deep inside of him, and it’s like our song all over again. This tune is sung with our bodies instead of our voices, but the harmony is no less beautiful. I come a third time, my ass clamping down painfully on his knot. Once the orgasm starts it keeps going, my ass gripping him again and again. He shudders, and I’m pretty sure he’s coming too—filling me up. We’re caught in a seemingly perpetual bliss, until I’m thrashing and calling out in the water, creating more bubbles—until he’s holding me down and sucking on my gills so hard the line between pleasure and pain is thin.

  When I feel his knot shrinking inside of me, it’s too soon, and not soon enough. I turn my head and lock eyes with him. His gaze is unyielding and intense. In this moment, he seems so much like an alpha that it surprises me. Whatever Flounder is, alpha or omega, I want him—I love him. But it feels unsettling to not be sure. We’ve shared so much together, I think I should know at least this.

  But the longer he looks into my eyes, the more I wonder if it truly matters. Flounder has never been dishonest with me. He’s never pretended to be someone he’s not. Maybe we have to take this one day at a time together, and try to figure it out. If he feels the need to figure it out at all. Maybe it’s not the kind of thing you can ever pin down.

  I turn my body around so I can sign to him. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. Are you okay? Was that okay? I had no idea that would happen.”

  I give him a wry smile. “I don’t think either of us knew that was going to happen.”

  “I liked it.”

  “So did I.”

  He runs his thumb along my lips, and signs, “Do you think we can make a baby together?”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t mind trying every chance we get.”

  He kisses me again. That familiar ache for him returns. I just had him, and I need more.

  I suppose we’ll have to try again.

  My omega father used to say: “If you want a child, sleep with the alphas. But if you want an orgasm, you’ll have better luck with the omegas.”
/>   There might be a chance Flounder could give me both.

  Flounder’s and Stingray’s story continues in Omega from the Beach, coming fall of 2019. They aren’t the main characters, but the question of whether they can have children together will be answered in this book. (I’ll give you a hit: “Making Bubbles” is a double entendre).

  About the Author

  Thanks for reading this bit of smut and fluff. If you like Mpreg or mermen, and you want to geek out about them with me, check out my Facebook group: Amy’s MPreg Nerds.

  I have a website. You can sign up for my new release newsletter there.

  If you have any questions or comments you can email me at [email protected].

  Author’s Notes

  When discussing the real-world parallels of Flounder’s genitalia in reviews or with other readers, please be aware that the term “hermaphrodite” is outdated and offensive. The correct term to describe people who are born with genetic, hormonal, genital, or other sex characteristics that do not align with stereotypical definitions of male or female bodies is “intersex.” I pulled this definition from a website I’d recommend on the fight for the rights of intersex people: http://astraeafoundation.org/wearereal/.

  Acknowledgements

  I worked with seven beta readers on Making Bubbles. Thank you Deb S., Nicole B., Tracey G., Amy D., Anne S., Kim P., and Rachel T.

  A huge thank you to my sensitivity reader, B. Barksdale, who helped me portray Mer Sign in a way that would be respectful to populations who use sign language as a primary form of communication.

  Fantasia Frog suffered through quite a few revisions to create this beautiful cover. Thank you so much.

  And lastly, I have to thank my wife for accepting my latest obsession with mer people and buying me a ridiculous amount of mermaid paraphernalia. I love you.