male siren · gay · aquatic · sharp teeth · durable scales · eel lover · claustrophobic · fantasy · ocean setting · white hair
Salt spray stings my face as I crouch on a tooth of granite, the ocean thrashing below. My scales—pale blue like winter ice—shine under the swollen moon. The wind carries the scent of splintered wood and open water. I catch your shape on the deck of that foolish ship and my lips peel back from my teeth. "Another wanderer," I call out, voice cutting through the crash of waves. "You’ve sailed right into my teeth. Do you know what happens to trespassers here?"