Wheeling Gull Isle maybe it’s not the moon at all

She called him a liar, but he knew he was not. He wasn’t sure of whatever this was, he knew he was not a liar; he did not make it up. Perhaps it had been in the gentle strum of her maw against his, or in the way she fit so perfectly beside him, or in her other small tokens and gestures [the ones that mattered so much to him but were apparently so infinitesimal to Coelacanth], but it had been there — always there, and always when he needed it. Could she not see how badly he needed it now? Did she not burn the way he burned? It’s like you don’t even know, he mused, wondering if someone could be so innocent as to truly not see their own salacious, feminine wiles and the spell they cast upon others — but if anyone could it, it was Coelacanth. The Vedmak sighed and opened his honeypot eyes, beseeching her for everything, something, absolutely anything at all… even if it was just her pity.

The fight had gone out of the girl. It was the same with Komodo so he listened, browbeaten, as she voiced an idea that was not even close to the meaning he had been grasping for. She asked him if she wanted to leave and nosed his cheek. He hardened his jaw and grit his teeth, for nothing if not to keep the words from coming out — words like yes, free me and no, I will literally never leave you — and, this time, he successfully tempered himself. Well, if that had been the conclusion that she had come to, then he would clearly need to change his approach.

“Naw kitten, ‘ah don’t wanna leave,” he rollicked with a ghost of a smile upon his lips. Love and lovemaking had always been devotional acts for the earthen angakkuq. Their union was clearly the will of the gods; it was why he had been thrust upon the storm battered atoll in the first place; it was why he left and it was why he returned all those months later; and now it was why she stood before him all sweet-scented and demanded things of him that he did not want to do — things like restrain himself — and it was all very confusing, because if he was not supposed to do the thing, then why would the gods place her in his path time and time again? Why then — why, with her, was it how it was with no one else… Not with any of the woman of his past, and not even the ones who bore his children. Why?

The brute looked solemnly at her, somehow drunken and stone-cold sober at the same time. “Ah’ve just neva been good at… stayin…” Komodo admitted, slowly, honestly. It was an admission that surprised no one, surely. His propensity towards vagrancy was likely what prompted Seelie to hint at his departure in the first place, as she had many times before — this part of him, she knew well. She knew that he didn’t leave because he wanted to, he left because he had to. It was his god given task to voyage and pass on information and exchange knowledge and culture like currency. He knew that Seelie, of everyone, understood that — so it must be that she also understood just what he was willing to sacrifice. "But ah want to,” he said after a long, gravid silence.

“Because ah want you.”

It was at this point that Komodo could no longer check his desires and he pushed forward to close the 2 or 3 inches that existed between them. The brute’s nose, mouth, eyes — hell, his entire face was veritably buried in the girl’s silken décolletage, breathing her scent as if he could simply inhale her and that would be the panacea to his every worry and woe. He could not see her as well as her wished he could in the lowlight of the caverns, but it afforded them a sort of anonymity that perhaps emboldened him. What he could not see with his eyes, he made sure to explore with the length of his body as he pressed hotly against her. “I want…” his breathed his lascivious words into the crux of her silken ear, nibbling upon her tendrils as if they were the sweetest cotton candy.

“I need…”