Male sea kelpie x male reader (nsfw) (Patreon)

It's been a crazy August, but here's something to make up for it I hope! 4300 words of Arran, my sea kelpie boy, and a male reader. Arran is a bit more modern and aware than Aonar, my other kelpie boy... not quite so innocent...!! Enjoy!!

You’d always considered yourself pretty fit. Nothing special, nothing to make heads turn, but you weren’t a slob either. Average height, average hair colour, average fitness… just average: that was always how you felt about yourself. 

So, even on your holiday, you were out for a jog along the beach not long after dawn. It might have been a stretch to say you enjoyed running, but you certainly enjoyed the results, and so you kept at it. 

Last night had seen a terrible storm ripping along the coast, and the smell of the air was incredible as the salt waves churned and frothed like some rabid beast in the aftermath, barely appeased and still snarling. The water was iron grey and lashed the rocky shore as you pounded along the hard sand that had been revealed by the retreating water. 

As you neared the end of your run, a shape in the water caught your attention and your feet slowed automatically. A raft of mangled debris was floating just offshore in the breakers, and, tangled amongst the wreckage and rope, you could see a human figure with pale hair drifting in the currents. “Oh no,” you breathed. They were face down, and you were sure they’d have to be dead. 

Nevertheless, you ploughed into the freezing waters of the Scottish coast, ignoring the way the cold bit instantly through your skin right to your bones, and tugged the raft towards you by one of the trailing ropes. You saw immediately that the figure was wrapped and tangled in a load of fishing net and you wondered vaguely if he was an old fisherman who had been caught out at sea in the storm and swept overboard. 

It was only as you saw the impressive musculature of his bare shoulders that you realised that the silver-haired figure was in fact a youngish man, and your heart leapt with a new kind of fear: it seemed somehow doubly tragic if his life had ended before he’d even hit thirty. You dragged the mass of debris as far up the sand and out of the water as you could and turned him over, breathing hard, feeling for a pulse, even as you gasped at the sheer beauty of his placid face. 

He had a cut on his forehead that was pale and bleeding sluggishly, but other than that he was unmarred by wounds. His skin was tanned and slightly freckled, and if you hadn’t been pumping furiously at his chest, and holding his nose and pressing your lips down over his own to try and kick-start him back to life, you might have realised just how handsome he was. 

A silver chain was wrapped tightly around his neck, pulling right across his throat, and you unclasped it, thinking it would allow him to breathe more easily. As you held it in your hand, he gasped and sat bolt upright, blinking and rasping and coughing. 

“Easy,” you said, stepping slightly backwards on the sand and realising in that moment that he was completely, stark naked. His wild eyes found your face and held your gaze. They were the most vibrant, ice-blue you’d ever seen, the colour of sea ice that never melts, and they were wide with utter terror as he stared at you. 

His lips worked soundlessly for a moment, before he began to kick and thrash wildly in the netting. 

“Stop!” you yelled. “Hey, easy! Don’t! You’re going to make it worse!” But he was having none of it. 

And then he began to… shift. 

It started at his toes, and the change swept up his body. His feet became hooves, his legs lengthened as a satin-soft, grey coat began to ripple across his shivering muscles, and in perhaps five seconds, you were rolling out of the way of a pair of flashing hind hooves. 

“What the hell?” you hissed, terror pounding in your heart as you stared at the dappled grey stallion that now lay on its side, whinnying deafeningly and thrashing furiously. A flash of red caught your eye and you saw that the ropes were beginning to dig into his delicate hocks, drawing blood. 

“God, stop! Look at you! I’ll help you if you just stop moving!” you shouted, and to your surprise, a shudder went through him and he fell almost deathly still. 

“There,” you smiled, trying to look and sound confident. 

As you neared him you saw that he had little strands of olive-green seaweed in his silvery mane, and his rolling eyes were the same ice-blue as the human’s had been. His nostrils flared wildly and suddenly he began to tremble and sweat. 

“Shh,” you said, standing and brushing the sand off your palms on the thighs of your running shorts. “Easy. I won’t hurt you. Let me help you, ok?”

The horse nodded and champed its teeth. Your vision slipped sideways and your heat skipped several beats when you saw just how… wrong… its mouth was. It opened nearly all the way up its cheeks, and instead of the large, blunt teeth of a horse, there were deadly-looking canines. 

“Geez, what the hell are you?” you asked as you took out the miniature penknife that you had on your set of keys and began to hack away at the nylon fishing nets. 

When he was free, you saw that the cuts were only superficial, and after you’d scraped them clear of his hooves, you stood well back and folded the knife away. A flash of silver on the dun-coloured sand at your feet drew your eye and you stooped, picking up the necklace that you’d taken from the man you’d pulled from the water. The man who had promptly turned into some kind of demon horse. 

The horse saw the chain hanging from your hand and let out a neigh so loud and so full of anguish that it broke your heart to hear. He staggered to his feet and stood there, shaking and sweating, tossing his head. 

“I… I took this off you,” you said, somehow sensing that he could understand you. 

The horse nodded and pawed the sand with his hoof, snorting, his eyes rolling and his ears pressed flat back against his head. 

“It was choking you,” you explained, feeling like you’d stolen something very precious. “You couldn’t breathe. You would have died… Look, I don’t know what the hell you are, but I don’t mean you any harm and I certainly don’t want any trouble, ok? Here,” and you laid the necklace down on the sand in front of him before backing away, hands raised, palms forwards. 

The horse stood there, stunned, as you stepped away, and even while you watched, you saw him begin to change again. The foreleg that had scored deep gullies in the sand with a hard hoof began to melt into trembling fingers and as he bent forward to pick it up, you found yourself looking at the naked body of a man again. 

“What the hell are you?!” you repeated, but it seemed he hadn’t heard you. 

He knelt in the sand and cradled the necklace in his palm as though it were the most precious pearl in the sea, and then looked up at you with shining eyes. They were pink from the salt water, and they gleamed with tears. “Thank you,” he said in a deep, husky voice. “You unbound me and bound me again in the space of a minute,” he chuckled, and you heard a strong Scottish accent in his words. 

“What?” you asked, starting to shiver from the cold. 

He noticed and stood, completely unashamed of being stark naked in front of a strange man he’d never met before. “I’m a kelpie,” he said, as though that explained everything. 

“Kelpies aren’t real,” you scoffed, and he laughed. 

“You’re telling me that you don’t believe me, after what your own eyes just saw?” he chuckled, slipping the necklace back around his neck. As his arms reached up, the muscles of his torso shifted and rippled and you felt your mouth going dry despite the absolute discomfort you were now beginning to feel in the rest of your body as the wind tugged at your wet clothing. “I’ll thank you not to try and take that off again,” the ‘kelpie’ added once the chain was safely back around his neck, just resting on his prominent collarbones. 

You were starting to get so cold you couldn’t think straight, and a frown washed over his expression, turning his bright eyes serious in an instant. 

“We need to get you home,” he said. “Where’d you come from?”

“I… I’m st-staying up at the old l-lighthouse k-keeper’s c-cottage,” you stuttered as your whole body contracted violently now in shivers that rattled your teeth. 

“I’ll shift again. Can you ride?”

You nodded numbly and he grinned a lopsided grin that would have got your pulse racing if your blood hadn’t been already half-frozen. In a matter of a few seconds, a grey stallion, easily sixteen hands tall at the withers, stood before you once again, and you gasped. 

He bowed one leg rather elegantly, lowering his back down so that you could clamber awkwardly on, and once you were settled, you grabbed a handful of his smoky grey mane. His coat was gorgeous, like a black and white photograph of the sea bed in sunlight, a dappled, watercolour mix of greys and pearly whites. You focused on that as the kelpie set off, and suddenly an old folk tale about kelpies luring you into the water to devour you flashed across your mind. 

But the kelpie was taking you away from the sea, back up the cliff path at a fast walk. You were grateful – or rather your balls were grateful – that he didn’t try and trot or canter to get you there any quicker, and the lighthouse keeper’s cottage drew into view as he scrambled up the last of the twisting turns of the rocky path. 

He stopped right outside the door, and you drew out the lanyard with your keys and the pocket knife on. Your hands were so cold that you couldn’t get the right key, let alone put it in the lock, and you were shaking so badly you couldn’t hold steady. 

Something in the air shifted behind you, and a moment later a tanned hand wrapped around yours, and a soft voice murmured, “Here, let me.” 

He leaned over and took the keys gently off you, and opened the little white-washed cottage up in no time. 

You’d left the log-burning stove on before you’d headed out, so it was toasty warm inside, and he ushered you in. “You’ll need to go get warm,” he said, eyes darting around the cottage for a moment. “Get out of those wet clothes. I’ll wait here just to make sure you’re alright, but I won’t intrude.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, embarrassed. A moment ago you’d been the hero, and now he’d flipped it round and was babying you. 

When you emerged after a warm shower, wearing thick, black, fluffy tracksuit pants and a tight-fitting, grey hoody, you saw that your rescuer was still standing near the door, but he was gazing out of the window which faced away from the sea, staring at the countryside. 

“It’s beautiful here,” you said shyly as you stepped back out into the main room. 

“Isn’t it?” he smiled, turning. “You look better!”

“I feel better,” you chuckled, eyeing him warily. You’d done a quick search on your phone in the bedroom, and discovered that kelpies were indeed water spirits, known for luring people off into their pools and devouring them. 

The young man, still completely naked, grinned. “From the look on your face, you’ve heard all the bad stories about kelpies I take it?”

You snorted and looked away. “Don’t you want some clothes or something?” you asked. 

“Oh,” he laughed. “I forgot. I don’t have anything here. We’re not dissimilar in height though…” he added. “Maybe I can borrow something?”

“Sure,” you turned and retreated to your room, looking for something that would fit him. 

He slipped into the boxers and jeans, t-shirt, and black hoody with efficient ease, but he shifted his shoulders oddly, as though not used to or comfortable wearing clothes. He caught your expression and grinned, a handsome, white smile that put crinkles at the corners of his pale blue eyes. He looked like a surfer with his white-blond hair all mussed and curly from the salt-water, and his tanned skin and easy manner. “Better?” he laughed. 

“It’s easier to concentrate, put it that way,” you muttered darkly, which only made him laugh more. “Don’t kelpies live in ponds on the moor?” you asked. “And don’t you… eat people?”

He made a little side to side movement with his head and said, “Yeah, mostly my kind lives in dank little ponds. But I live in the cove down there because it’s so damned gorgeous. I don’t eat humans though. Too tough… too many toxins,” he laughed, eyes twinkling.

“Oh, that’s a relief. I bet, living on the beach, you must get all the girls in the summer then,” you said dryly, heading for the fridge to get some milk out and then to fill the kettle up for some tea. 

“You must not have been to this part of Scotland before,” he countered, still standing near the front door. 

He was tall, around six foot, with broad, strong shoulders that stretched your hoody gloriously. Your jeans were tight on him too. Concentrate, you hissed as you put the kettle on. “Why?” you asked, “Does the Tourist Board advertise this as kelpie country then? Did I miss the memo?”

He laughed again, and you swallowed thickly. He seemed so affable and genuine. “No,” he said, still laughing, “No, it’s just that there aren’t many sunbathers on that beach at any time of year. Too cold; too remote. It’s kind of why I chose it.”

“Oh.”

“What’s your name?” he asked, and you told him. “Suits you,” he said. “I’m Arran.”

“Arran? Like the Isle of Arran?”

He nodded. “Yep. I was born there.”

“You’re a bit further north now,” you commented, and again he nodded. 

“I came to Mull when I met a mare…” He snickered suddenly, “Turns out that while I am into mares, it’s men I prefer.” He shrugged, but when he caught your blush, he added, “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… I know you humans can be funny about… you know.”

“Oh,” you snorted suddenly, “No, it’s not that at all. I’m gay, so it’s men only for me anyway.”

He smiled at that, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. It was reassuring somehow. The kettle boiled, clicking off as it reached temperature, and you busied yourself with that. “You want a cup?” you asked, back turned. 

You put the kettle down and glanced over your shoulder to find him standing much, much closer behind you, and you looked up into those eyes and your mouth went dry as you turned to face him. You swallowed and he smiled again, his hands going to your hips. 

“It’s been a while since there’s been anyone for me,” he said. He wasn’t really penning you in, but you felt utterly helpless in his embrace. “If you don’t want it, tell me, and I’ll go,” he said. “You’ll never see me again, but I want to thank you for saving me.”

His palm moved and he stroked your cock through your trackpants, and you gasped, knees buckling slightly. You grabbed the countertop behind you to stay upright as a flood of sensation washed through you, stealing your breath. “It’s been… ah… a little while for me too,” you confessed. “Fuck…”

He kissed you then. He tasted of salt, but it wasn’t unpleasant. His jaw was rough with shark-skin stubble, and his teeth bit insistently into your lips. He inhaled deeply as he kissed you, drinking in the scent of your skin and your hair, and he laced his fingers into the still-damp hair at the nape of your neck and moaned. Arran drew back and you saw his eyes were alight with want. His pupils soared huge, leaving a mere ring of ice around them. “I want you,” he hissed. 

You barely had time to gasp before he knelt down in front of you, his hands trailing down your torso until he found the waistband of your trackpants and drew them down. “Oh fuck,” you gasped as he started to kiss and nip at your hipbones while stroking you to full hardness with one hand. His other palm pressed you into the cabinet behind you and you felt your legs beginning to shake. It had been rather a long time. 

Then Arran took you in his mouth and you forgot out to breathe. 

Sensations flooded your brain and your body as he began to suck, gently at first, and then with more vigour. His lips formed a tight, wet ‘o’ around your shaft and he bobbed down so that your tip hit the back of his throat. He groaned again then and you felt the vibrations of it in your cock and your heartbeat skyrocketed. 

You clutched at the countertop behind you as he worked you closer and closer. “God, you’re good at that,” you rasped, and in answer he moved his hand and began to caress the curve of your balls. “Arran, I’m… I’m not going to last if you… if you do…” You trailed off, eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, as he sucked with hollowed cheeks, running a fingertip down the centre of your balls. 

He drew almost all the way off you, and your wet cock twitched slightly as the air felt cold around it, and he pressed his tongue down over the slit at your tip, savouring the taste of you and moaning. 

White heat coiled in you and in seconds you knew you were going to come any moment. You tried to warn him, but he resumed his rhythm, that first slide back into his mouth almost too much. He sped up, the slick heat of his mouth and the pressure of his tongue on your cock too much, and you released down his throat. You bent forwards over his head, hands tangled in his silver-blond hair, torso contracting, knees going weak as you emptied yourself into him, and he drank it down, working you gently through your orgasm with just the right pressure until you felt your muscles going slack and you staggered slightly. 

His palms caught your hips to steady you and he drew gently off you, tucking you back into your trackpants and standing. “You alright?” he asked. “That was beautiful…”

“Mmmph,” was all you could manage. 

He smirked at that, and to your immense surprise, he actually picked you up and carried you to the sofa, laying you gently down on it. 

He didn’t join you, and you cracked your eyes open a minute or two later to find him heading towards the door. He opened it, letting in a rush of cold air, and had just got his fingers under the hem of the borrowed shirt and hoody, preparing to lift them over his head, and, presumably, to step outside and shift into his equine form once the jeans and boxers had followed suit. 

“Stay?” you slurred, barely able to focus on him. “I mean, you don’t have to, but you don’t have to go either.”

He frowned slightly, though the gesture was not hostile. In fact, it was softly curious. “You mean it?” he asked. “Even knowing what I am?”

“Your kind apparently eats humans and I let you put your mouth around my dick. And now you’re worried I won’t want you here because you’re a kelpie?”

He laughed, shyly this time, and lowered his arms, closing the front door. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll stay.”

You smiled. “Maybe I can return the favour once I’ve got my breath back…”

“I’d like that,” he said in his rough baritone. “Very much,” he added as he sank on to the sofa and pulled your feet into his lap. His fingers traced idle patterns around your ankles for a while, and then he looked along the length of your body. 

“What?” you asked, still basking in the glow of being blown like that. 

He smiled, his eyes crinkling shyly at the corners. “It’s nice, that’s all,” he said, clearly bashful.

“What is?”

“To be around someone who knows what I am… Normally – I say that like I’m with someone every week, but I’m not, I promise – normally I have to leave in case they find out. I can’t have anything more lasting than a quick fuck or a one-night stand because I’m terrified they’ll find out and…” he shrugged, “Either freak out or… you know… try and hurt me or… worse.”

You smiled. “I’m not gonna lie,” you said, “I still can’t quite believe you are what you say you are, but I know what I saw on the beach. It… It is a bit unnerving… if I’m honest, but I’d like to get to know you a bit. If that’s ok.”

He nodded. “Whatever you’d like.”

You sat up and surprised him by straddling him, rocking your hips and grinding against his cock. You were delighted to discover he was half-hard still, and he threw his head back into the sofa behind him and bucked upwards into you, searching for more. “Fuck,” he cursed, his big hands going to your hips, controlling the speed. “Fuck, I want more…”

You slipped off him and headed towards the bedroom. “Come on then,” you said. “I’ve got condoms and lube, and, besides, it’s more comfortable in here.” 

Arran pushed his tall frame off the sofa with fluid grace and followed you into your bedroom. He had your clothes off in a heartbeat, and his own followed suit not long after. “You want to top or…?” you asked between heated kisses.

He grinned. “You gave me a taste of being ridden earlier…”

“You want me to top?” you asked, slightly incredulous. It was rare to find someone bigger than you who didn’t mind being bottom. 

He nodded, appearing almost bashful, so you smiled and reached for the bottle you had brought with you but had so far not used. 

“You want me to prep you, or do you want to do it yourself?” you asked as you knelt back down on the bed between his legs. 

“You can, if you don’t mind?” he replied, lying on his back and looking up at you with a slightly wondrous look in his big, blue eyes. A vast expanse of tanned, muscular body lay stretched out in front of you, and as you worked him, first with one finger, then two, he began to unravel. 

When you’d spent a long time prepping and teasing him, catching the spot inside him that made him jerk and curse, he began to beg, whining and squirming. “Please,” he whimpered. Sweat sheened his torso, his thighs quivered, and he looked at you with desperate eyes. 

You smiled, rolled the condom down your cock, and then seated yourself slowly inside him. He was hot and, despite your efforts, tight. As you sank hilt-deep into his ass, feeling it clench around you, you paused, letting him get used to the new intrusion. The heat and tightness of him was incredible and you had to fight to keep control. 

He moaned deliciously, grunting as you began to move a moment or two later. “Please,” he hissed, and you lifted his legs up further so that your tip hit him right in the bundle of nerves that sent sparks down his spine. “Fuck! Yes!” he cried as you picked up your pace. 

You fucked him hard, and he unravelled in a way you hadn’t expected from someone you’d assumed would be the one doing the fucking. You liked it either way, and it was a pleasure to watch him coiling up for release. When his orgasm ripped through him a while later, he came so hard he tipped you over the edge as well. As you emptied yourself into him once again, he covered his own torso in his release, clenching hard, jerking and twitching, moaning, gasping and finally falling back motionless into the pillows behind him. 

He lay there with his eyes closed and his breathing rapid and shallow for a short time before you slid out of him. He grunted at the loss of you inside him, so you dealt with the condom and returned to the bed. You stood there a moment, watching him, and feeling the urge to curl up against him and feel the heat of his body against yours, but you weren’t sure if he’d want that. 

When he slid one arm up, opening up one side of his body to you, without opening his eyes, you smiled and took the signal for the invitation it was. 

You laid your head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat pounding. 

“Thanks,” he murmured, sounding sleepy. 

“For what?” you asked, chuckling. “For fucking you?”

He snorted at that, amused, and shook his head. His thumb caressed a circle over your shoulder. “This. It’s nice. I don’t get much contact… I missed it.”

You slid your arm over his washboard abs and he hummed happily, already drifting off to sleep as the cloudy morning sun filtered in through the curtains. You lay there a long time, just listening to the sound of his breathing, until you found yourself slipping into sleep right after him. Turned out you’d missed the contact as much as he had.