Male orca merman x reader (sfw) (Patreon)

Here's story number four for Mermay! How did that come round so quickly? This time we have 5k words of budding friendship and fluff when we meet a kindred spirit on a remote island nature reserve where we've been posted as a ranger for the week. We meet some actual orcas, weather a nasty storm, and get chatting to Viggo who lives and hunts in and protects the waters around the island. It was supposed to have a female reader, but when I read it back, there was no indication of gender, so I left it as is. If you're looking for the kind of weather/storm/landscape I'm imagining for this, this video from Fair Isle, Shetland, basically covers it. 

Thanks for being such an engaging and lovely bunch of patrons, and I hope you enjoy this latest offering!

“Yer gonna be in for a storm in a few days,” the old fisherman grunted as he steered the craft through glass-smooth seas, across the yawning channel to the remote mound of rock and grass that rose like a sea-monster’s back from the depths. Dark, imposing rock, sheer cliffs, miles of deep, wild ocean, and no company but the wheeling birds through an endless, blue sky; it was about as remote a place as you’d ever been for work, and you grinned at him. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him - on the contrary; if anyone would know, it would be the wizened, scar-knuckled old selkie whom the Bird Conservancy had hired to take you out to the reserve, miles off the coast of the mainland. He was grim and gruff, with wild white hair like sea foam atop his head and quick dark eyes that twinkled with hidden mischief. That was the first thing he’d said to you in the whole forty minutes you’d been out on the water with him. 

“I’ll be careful,” you said, but he shot you a look that said he didn't think you knew how to be careful out here on the ocean. “You think it’ll be a quick storm? I’m only supposed to be there for a week…” The fisherman didn’t respond, and you found yourself rabbiting on to fill the suddenly awkward silence. “I mean,” you added, tapping one of the four plastic crates of gear that surrounded you, “I’ve got enough supplies here for a fortnight, and the previous ranger always leaves something too, so I’m sure I’ll be alright if someone can’t come and get me, but still…” Eventually you did peter off into silence, but the old selkie didn’t fill it with any contributions of his own. 

Instead he leaned into the tiller and guided his craft expertly between the currents that flowed inexorably along at deceptive speeds, making the sea seem about to boil in places, just beneath the glassy surface. It was eerie, thinking about the power of the water and how you were as out of your element here as many of the merfolk would be in the middle of a landlocked city.

The number of birds in the blue sky soon began to pick up as you neared the looming island, but while you were staring up at them, the selkie grunted something at you. 

“Hmm?” you asked, attention snapping back to him. “What is it?”

“Look’ee there,” he chuckled, pointing a gnarled, brown finger out over the water behind you. “Perfect day for ‘em to play.”

Turning, you gasped as you saw the tall, unmistakable silhouettes of three orca cutting through the water like chef knives through butter. One male, one female, and probably one young one between them. Plumes of spray rose intermittently from their blow holes with a soft puff. You couldn’t tell from that distance whether they were the animals or the merfolk who resembled them, but regardless, the easy economy of their movements and the coiled power harboured in their muscular bodies was enough to make you shiver and stare. If the selkie was bothered by their presence, he didn’t show it, and they left the little craft alone as he continued to steer it up towards the concrete jetty at the base of the cliff. 

“I suppose you can’t pull up here in rougher seas,” you commented, instantly regretting the banality of the comment and focusing instead on readying your stuff as much as you could without standing up. You didn’t fancy embarrassing yourself in front of him any further by overbalancing and tipping backwards into the deep blue sea. 

He didn’t speak immediately, but he nodded, working his jaw as if trying to remember how to form words for a moment, and then said, “Anything rougher ‘an this, ‘n we don’t bring you landfolk out ‘ere at all.”

“That’s… probably for the best,” you grinned and to your surprise, he gave a rasping laugh, somewhere between the bark of a seal and a smoker’s cough. 

“Aye. You take care now,” he said as he held the boat steady for you while you heaved the four crates of gear and your rucksack of clothes off and then clambered out without very much grace. 

“Will do. And thank you,” you smiled as his fingers loosed the knot again, acting almost without thought, and he turned the craft around. It answered him as if it were an extension of himself, cruising away through the water like a marlin and as you stood there and watched, it caught the attention of the orca. 

Still motionless on the dock, you watched in horror as they accelerated and began to stalk the craft. Fear rose in your throat for the grizzled old selkie, and you stepped forwards, as helplessness crushed you from the inside. Were they drawn to him because of his supernatural connection to seals; to the creatures they hunted? Only when one of them breached the surface did you see that they were the animals and not the merfolk. The fisherman didn’t react to them though, and continued to cut his craft through the water, making for the mainland, but you were certain that the big male was going to land on top of the boat and smash it to kindling each time he reared up and crashed down beside it. 

A moment later, a fourth orca joined them; a male with a long, blade-like dorsal. Or at least, you thought it was another orca until the newest arrival also breached the water and you saw a merman with a huge harpoon in one hand. Was he planning on attacking the selkie? Or the orca? Morbidly transfixed, you hurried to the end of the jetty to watch. 

The merman, you noticed as he breached again, had only one arm, his right ending in a stump just above his elbow. Scenarios involving the champing jaws of orca began to play in your mind. Did he hunt the orca then? Mystified, you stayed rooted to the spot and stared.

As you continued to watch, it seemed as though the merman was driving the orca off the boat with just his body, and eventually they turned and headed off down the wide sound. The selkie continued on towards the mainland, waving a hand at the merman, who gave one last spectacular breach, body smacking down on the smooth surface of the sea to give a huge spraying slap, and then he disappeared beneath the water. 

An unsteady breath escaped you and you stepped back, turning wide-eyed from the scene. The unexpected drama left you surprisingly shaky, and the switch-back cliff path which wound up from the beach-level dock to the top of the island seemed almost insurmountable, especially with all your gear. Taking a moment to enjoy the sunshine in the shelter of the little cove, and to let the adrenaline drain out of you, you dug out your thermos flask and a cereal bar from your rucksack, and plonked yourself down onto one of the sturdy crates. It felt a bit like a fainting couch to a Victorian lady, and you snickered at the thought as you reclined on the decidedly uncomfortable box.  

After no more than five minutes, a lone dorsal fin rose steadily the water, followed by a short puff of air through an orca’s blow hole, and your eyes locked onto it instantly. Whatever they were - mer or animal - they were fast approaching, and you swallowed, wondering if it was the merman come to harpoon you for lunch. The more rational side of your brain told you that he’d just protected the selkie, so it was unlikely that he’d come after you. But then again, you were one of the landfolk - a human no less - and in many countries, your kind hunted merfolk down for sport. How was he to know that you were here to protect and not persecute?

Before your panic could gather much momentum, the orca mer swam into the crystal clear waters of the cove and poked his head above the water. His hair was black with a streak of white at his forelock, and the skin of his upper half was a patchwork mixture of monochrome, though largely greyish white. On his face he had two patches of dark skin over his cheekbones and around his eyes. The irises of his eyes, you noticed as he blinked at you for a moment, were almost red, though also shot through with pale blue, and he was strikingly handsome. 

“Hi,” you chirped nervously, swilling the cloying remnants of your cereal bar down with a huge, too-hot gulp of tea and trying not to choke. 

“Hey,” he smiled, revealing large, double canines. “You must be the latest ranger?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, introducing yourself by name and relaxing tangibly. 

“Viggo,” he said, his baritone rough and scratchy. “I’m one of the sea wardens around here.”

“Sea wardens?”

With a chuckle, he elaborated. “We keep poachers off the island.”

“Your friends seem a bit over-zealous,” you grinned, nodding out into the water where the orcas had now retreated out of sight. “They were hassling my chauffeur…”

His eyes crinkled and he laughed again, rolling over in the water to expose his long white belly and tipping his head back so that the sea lapped around his eyes. “They’re just boisterous. They meant no harm to old Fergus. Not really. Still, it’s best to remind them not to get too pushy.” He shot you a sidelong look and said, “They might scare the tourists in summer.”

“Can’t have them affecting the tourism industry after all…” you shot wryly and he laughed again. 

Then he eyed your crates of gear. “Mark didn’t have that much shit with him. What have you got in there?”

“Oh,” you sighed, staring at the black plastic boxes. Mark was the previous ranger on the island, but you’d never met him personally. “The house needs some repairs, apparently, so half of this is DIY stuff, with some waterproof lining for the roof. The rest is tagging equipment for the birds, some emergency food supplies, my camera gear…” you shrugged. “Stuff…”

Viggo cracked an eye open and stared straight up at the searingly blue sky above. “Weather’s going to get rough in a day or so,” he said casually. “You gonna be alright?”

You nodded. “Fergus said the same thing, so it must be true.”

“You’d believe that grumpy old seal over me?” he laughed, rolling over again onto his front and swimming a little closer. There was no bite to his words. With his left hand, he laid his harpoon down on the concrete jetty and held himself upright with a strong grip on the edge of the dock. 

You tried not to let your eyes slide to the stump of his right arm out of sheer curiosity, but you weren’t sure how successful you were. Instead, you snorted and said, “I just meant that if two people who, you know, actually live in the sea tell you something, you’d be stupid not to believe it, that’s all.”

He flashed you another grin and your heart skipped a beat. He was unbelievably attractive with his dimpled cheeks and sharp teeth, and those inhuman eyes. 

“Well…” you said, standing up and reassembling your thermos flask. “I guess I’d better start hauling all my stuff up the cliff otherwise I’ll still be at it after sunset. Don’t fancy trying to do it in the dark. I’m glad to have met you though.”

“You too,” he said. “I’ll be around if you’re down here at all, so I’ll probably see you.”

“Hope so,” you smiled. 

He seemed pleasantly surprised by your reaction and gave you another blinding grin. “Maybe you can meet my friends too…”

You held your hands up warily. “Easy now, I don’t want to become lunch… They might think they’re puppies to you, but I’m probably salmon sized to them…”

Viggo laughed, a long, loud, delighted sound and he rolled a complete 360 in the water, splashing delightedly. Water droplets sparkled on his forelock and down his nose as he looked up at you again. “Oh, you’re definitely meeting the puppies then,” he said. “Good luck with all that though,” he grimaced, eyeing the four heavy crates. “I’d offer to help, but…” He slapped his dorsal expressively and sent a spray of water back out over the cove. 

“Thanks all the same,” you chuckled, shouldering your rucksack and feeling like a tortoise before hefting the first crate into your arms.

It took a couple of goes to get it all up to the cottage at the top, and on your second trip, you found the cove as deserted and still as when you’d first disturbed the peace of the place with Fergus well over an hour earlier. Wherever Viggo had gone, he was nowhere to be seen now. 

The long trudge back up the cliff with the last of the stuff took all the starch out of you, and you flopped down into the short grass at the top of the weather-blasted island, breathing hard and sweating, staring up at the endless sky above you. The racket from the birds prevented it from being entirely relaxing, and you were sure you were going to get dive bombed or shat upon any second, but for the moment, you could catch your breath with nothing but the sounds of nature on all sides. 

No traffic. No technology. No cars, no people, no trains, no busses, no shouting, no nothing. Just you, the sky, the wind, and the birds. 

The peace wasn’t to last. 

Two days later, after tagging a number of birds and taking a respectable number of measurements of eggs etc. to help determine population size and health, the promised storm hit. You’d been down to the cove every afternoon, but hadn’t seen Viggo again, much to your disappointment, and on the third morning of your stay on the remote outcrop in the middle of some of the wildest seas on earth, you felt nature gearing herself for a full assault on the little disused lighthouse and cottage. 

The birds let you know first. They all went very quiet, and although you didn’t immediately notice, the moment the silence struck you, it brought with it a sense of deep unrest. 

You opened the little cottage door and stepped out to see pewter-dark clouds lowering on the horizon, hanging low over the sea as if trying to skim and tease the frothing peaks of the rearing waves. Grabbing your camera from the scrubbed wooden kitchen table, you headed over to the disused lighthouse and stood on the platform at the bottom to snap a few atmospheric shots. It didn’t take long for the wind to roar from a force six or so right up to a force nine.

As you hunkered down into your thick anorak’s collar, you caught sight of darker shapes cavorting in the pounding surf and racing the rushing waves. 

Orca. 

You were certain it was the small pod you’d seen on your first day, and as you trained your long lens on them, you caught a flash of something different. Viggo was with them again, nipping in and out of them in a pattern that reminded you of an owner with a particularly exuberant pack of dogs. It was hard to keep track of them amid the gale and the way it whipped the sea into a frenzy and buffeted you hard enough to make you stagger, but for a long time you watched them playing in the churning water until they finally disappeared. 

Uttering a silent prayer for their safety as the wind brought with it a harsh, squalling rain to lash your cheeks, you headed for the shelter of the squat building and hunkered down for what was probably one of the worst storms you’d ever experienced. 

On the mainland you probably wouldn’t have been so unnerved by a storm - even one as severe as this - but out here, on your own, with no help and no company, you teetered on the edge of panic for most of the night. You envisaged the roof ripping off and tumbling away into the sea, or gargantuan waves swamping the clifftop and washing you off with them, helpless as a spider down the plughole, and, needless to say, you barely slept. 

When the storm finally blew itself out a day and half later, it left you emotionally drained and extremely sleep deprived. Taking a quick inventory of the birds on the cliffs and in their burrows, you discovered - to no surprise really - that the colony as a whole was pretty much fine, and you wondered what to do with yourself next. 

The wind was still brisk, and being out on the open hilltop of the island was making your ears raw, so you found yourself heading down the switchback cliff path to the sheltered cove where you discovered Viggo. At first you thought he’d been washed up by the storm and your heartbeat quickened fearfully, footsteps pattering down the path, but as you got nearer you saw that he was simply enjoying the chilly sunshine.

He had beached himself and was lying on his front, doodling idle patterns in a rare patch of pale sand between the pebbles with his finger. When he saw you coming down the path, he stopped and waved at you. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you reached the concrete jetty. Bits of seaweed and driftwood had been flung halfway up the cliffs, and the surface of the dock was covered in debris of all kinds; mostly, you noted to your dismay, bits of plastic and bottle tops. 

He shrugged. “Honestly… I was a bit worried about you.”

“Me? Why? I wasn’t the one actually in the sea while all that was going on!” you laughed, nudging a sea-smoothed stick back into the water where it bobbed and floated in the surf. 

“Exactly!” he said. “We can just ride it out, but you had to sit up here like one of those silly birds! I thought you might even have got blown away.”

You walked over to a rather inviting looking driftwood log and eased yourself down onto it, no more than a metre from where he was lying on his front. At this proximity, you realised how big he was. Even his human torso was bigger by far than any human’s you’d ever seen, and his orca body was a solid mass of muscle. “Honestly, I thought the same at times. I’ve never seen weather like it.”

He nodded. “It was a rough one, for sure.”

“Are you alright?” you asked. “And the orca?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said. And then he perked up. “You want to meet them?”

Your brain stalled. “Now?”

Viggo shrugged. “If you want.”

“Where are they?” you asked, your eyes going to the cove. Beyond the protection of the small, cliff-bound cove, the sea was lively, though nowhere near as wild as it had been the day before. Still, you saw no dorsals poking out of it like harbingers of death. 

“Oh, they’re somewhere nearby for sure,” he said easily. “Probably rustling up clams or something from the seabed. They always get stirred up in weather like that.”

“Viggo, can I ask you something about them that’s super ignorant?”

He grinned, flashing his twin canines. “Sure.”

“How intelligent are they? I mean… I’m assuming you can’t, like… talk to them…”

“Oh, I can talk to them alright,” he laughed easily, flopping over onto his side, mindful of his large, oar-like flippers. “But they don’t really listen. They’re smart. Fergus says they’re like the seals - kind of like dogs for you I suppose? I’ve only ever met a dog once though, and it was a scruffy thing that looked like a lump of seaweed, and all it did was yell at me, so I’m not sure I believe him, but still.”

“Maybe they’re just like the smarter dogs, like collies…?” you supplied. “Can you understand them on some level?”

Again, he shrugged. “Not because we share a few strands of DNA,” he clarified, “But I’ve spent my whole life with them. I can read them, and I know what they mean when they communicate. It’s more… primal… they communicate needs rather than full sentences, you know? But their whistles and clicks all have a purpose, and if you know what they mean, you can talk with them a bit.”

“That’s so cool,” you blushed. “I’ve always thought they’re beautiful creatures. A lot of landfolk think they’re evil because of the way they hunt, but I think they’re a lot like us too…” 

“Could be more proof they’re evil,” he said darkly, but then he shot you a look and began to shuffle back on the pebbles. It wasn’t elegant, and he paused halfway and puffed his cheeks out. “This is so impressive, right?” he laughed. 

His body looked incredibly heavy, and just watching him rocking it back and forth to get off the beach made you tired, but you only smiled and leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out a little. “You haven’t seen me try to swim,” you quipped and he laughed. “I’m not in any rush anyway.”

When he was finally back in the water, you realised he didn’t have his harpoon on him and asked him where it was. 

“Oh, it’s not far,” he said. “But I figured people wouldn’t bother coming today.”

“Where’d you even get something like that?” you asked. 

He flashed you another cheeky grin. “Found it,” he said. “Figured I’d use it to scare the Landies this time, instead of the other way around. Harpoon in the hands of a whale… had a nice symmetry to it.”

“Nice,” you smirked. He did have a point. 

With a final heave, he got himself properly into the deeper part of the tiny cove and swam off, his body moving in sinuous, powerful strokes until he was effortlessly beyond the shelter of the dock and out in open water. A soft singing noise reached your ears and you sat up a bit, straining to catch it. Like a voice on the wind, it drifted in and out of your perception, but after five minutes or so, you saw the three familiar dorsal fins of the orca coming towards you, and a moment later, Viggo returned to the cove ahead of them, like a shepherd guiding a small flock. 

He breached the surface gently, his head poking up and he sprayed a soft fountain of mist up from the blow hole on his back. “Come a bit closer,” he said. “You can stroke them. They love it. Especially Luna,” he said. 

He grabbed hold of the female’s small dorsal and the two of them suddenly surged forwards up the beach as if they were hunting seal pups. You'd have lied if you’d said your heart hadn't lurched to your mouth to stand at the receiving end of all that power. 

They didn’t beach themselves fully, but rode the surf a long way up and remained in the lapping shallows, Viggo still holding her dorsal which had a smoky stripe and a half moon marking halfway up. 

“I see where you got your name from,” you said to the small, delicate female, and in answer she opened her jaws a little and chittered at you. 

Viggo laughed. “I think she likes you.”

“She hasn’t even met me!” you huffed, standing up and gingerly coming a fraction closer. “You sure she’s not just going to eat me…”

“I promise,” he said. “Not while I’m here. I don’t suggest you go swimming with them on your own though.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you muttered, kneeling down in front of her. This close up, she was even bigger than you’d thought she would be and you almost balked until Viggo took your hand in his and trailed it through the water first. 

“Here,” he smiled, placing your palm on her head. His skin was cool and tough, but Luna’s was like rubber. “So long as your skin is wet, she’ll like it. She likes her nose tickled,” he added, and when you obliged, she bowed her back a bit and lifted her tail. 

Feeling suddenly playful, you grinned at him and blurted, “Do you do that if I tickle you under the chin?”

Instead of being insulted, he burst out laughing. “You know, I might just.”

“I’ll have to find out another day,” you said, cheeks hot with embarrassment. “For now, Luna’s got my attention.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” he said in mock outrage. “Luna, chomp!” he pretended to order. 

Your hand did still flutter anxiously, but the orca clearly didn’t understand, or feel like dining out on your hand. 

While you were petting her, the others milled lazily in the cool, clear water of the cove. “They must love it here,” you mused as you eased yourself down onto one hip on the lumpy shingles beneath you and continued to pet a flipping killer whale as if she were a lapdog. The contrast was so surreal it almost didn’t compute. 

“Mmm,” he hummed, also tickling her sides just above her rounded flippers with his one hand. 

Not for the first time, your eyes slid to the scarred stump of his right arm, and this time he looked up at you pointedly and you flushed. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s fine,” he smiled without breaking his steady scratching rhythm. “I got too close to a boat when I was a kid.”

You sucked the air through your teeth as you winced. “Fuck…” you cursed. “That must have been…”

“Agony? Yeah. I had to be airlifted to a special hospital up the coast. They couldn’t save my arm, but I was lucky not to bleed out. I should have known better, but admittedly I was just a kid.”

“Where were your family?” you asked unthinkingly. 

He shrugged. “My ma was a loner,” he said. “It’s uncommon for orca mer not to have a pod, but she was just… not the sociable type. She died when I was seven, and I had no one. Two years later, I thought I was tough as shit, and… well… turns out I wasn’t. I did a lot of hydrotherapy and met some really cool people, so it wasn’t all that bad.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, slightly awestruck by how darned casual he was about it all. “And now you work for the coastguard?” 

He nodded. 

“You get many egg poachers trying to come to the island? I haven’t heard of many if you do…”

Viggo shook his head. Before he could reply, Luna decided that she wanted to be back in the sea, and began to lumber back in, soaking you liberally with seawater as she did. 

With your jeans drenched, you could only sit there and laugh as she disappeared back to join her family. 

“Sorry about that,” he said rather sheepishly, eyeing your wet clothes. “They’re not the most… considerate…”

You shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s not like I’ve got far to go to get changed, and it’ll probably dry out anyway in a bit. The sun’s nice down here. It’s bleak up top.”

He sighed, the water lapping at his sides. “You must be able to see for miles from up there.” 

His tone seemed wistful, and you nodded. “Here,” you said, scrambling to your feet and snatching your camera from the top of the jetty where you’d left it. You tried to ignore the nasty way your wet jeans stuck to you as you moved and as you settled back down, you knelt this time instead of lounging within reaching distance of the water. Once settled, you tilted the camera screen to face him. 

His red eyes went wide when he saw the images on the screen. His right arm twitched as if he had gone to reach for it with a phantom limb that no longer existed, but he couldn’t take the camera from you in his left hand since he was using it to buttress up his upper half. Making sure to hold it at a convenient height for him, you spent nearly twenty minutes scrolling through the camera roll, showing him the cottage and the birds, the lighthouse, and, finally, the storm. He was fascinated by it all and made you talk yourself hoarse explaining everything. 

At the sight of the waves from the clifftop, however, Virgo’s mouth hung open. “Gods below,” he cursed. “It looks terrible from up there… no wonder you didn’t sleep! Oh!” he added as you ticked over into the ones of the orca playing in the surf. “That’s Kelp,” he smiled, nodding at the orca on screen.

The tall dorsal marked it as belonging to a male and you let your eyes wander out into the bay where the small family pod appeared to be hunting, though somewhat casually. “Kelp’s the male?”

“Mm. He’s pretty young, but he’s a good dad. He’s really protective of Polaris.” 

“The little female?”

Again, he nodded. “I love that one,” he added as you clicked round to an image of Viggo and Luna in almost perfect mirror images of each other, breaching high through a plunging wave. It suddenly occurred to you that he spoke of them like family. 

“Do you have anyone of your own kind nearby?” you asked without looking at him. 

He shook his head, his white forelock flopping into his strange blue and red eyes now that it had almost completely dried. Relaxed, he flopped onto his side again to take the weight off his arm, and he lay luxuriantly on the beach, looking up at you. “Nope. I have friends and people I visit, but I don’t have a pod or a mate.”

“Me neither,” you smiled. “People think I’m weird.”

“People are weird,” he retorted and you grinned at him. “Are you happy?”

Were you? 

“For the most part,” you said honestly. “I love my job, and the places it takes me to, and I love making friends along the way. My friends are my family,” you said, and you glanced down to see an understanding warmth kindling in his eyes. “That’s not to say I don’t want someone to settle down with, but I’m just happy enough with how things are right now, you know?”

Mutely, he nodded and folded his arms behind his head, stretching his pale body out and making his muscles ripple softly. To see all that power lying so quietly made you smile. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said after a while, eyes closed. “You sure you can’t stay longer than a week?”

“I’m sure I can come back,” you said, surprised to find just how very much you wanted to return. You ached at the thought of leaving the orcas and the birds, the high cliffs and the spartan house beside the lighthouse. Things were simpler here; pared down to sky and sea and surf. 

“I’d like it if you did,” he said. “And I think Luna would too.”

With a grin, you flicked a piece of wet seaweed at him. It hit him square on the cheek and he jolted, the twitch running the length of his body and making him almost sit up with surprise. “You just want me to tickle your chin like I did hers,” you laughed, but you immediately regretted it. 

With his dorsal still in the shallow water, he swept it in a long arc until a huge wave of water washed over you and soaked you. “Maybe I do,” he said, laughing as you sputtered in outrage and he lay back down. “Maybe I do.”

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