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As the Seasons Grey	By : christinecornell Category: Celebrities - Misc > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 46 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Started life as kinky Christmas-related short stories in 2022 and took on a life of its own shortly thereafter. 100 fiction, none of this is real, and I own nothing except for the character of Christine.

Chapter List
- 11
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- 13
While they were down in that mountain spring, there was a moment in which Christine had envisioned Alex as a merman. It was a fleeting moment, but she had nevertheless considered it. She pictured him with that long tail in lieu of his legs and his wet hair tousled over his shoulder: a mere image that had only just popped into her mind as she opened her eyes yet again, but that time, she had found herself in the front room of a small cabin somewhere.
She lifted herself off the mattress, and she took a glimpse out the small window over the head of the bed. Vast drifts of snow spanned the hilly landscape beyond the glass, while pieces of frost covered the outside of the windowpane itself, and she couldn’t help but shiver at the feeling of it all.
Christine lifted herself out of her cozy bed all the way. She was still in her long black underwear, and a part of her believed that she had no need to remove them, either, as she brushed her teeth and then sauntered into her cozy kitchenette for a bagel, a bowl of oatmeal, and a cup of coffee before she got dressed for the day. There was a part of her that wanted to stay in and be cozy in the safety of her home all day long, away from the bitter cold, but there was so much to do.
Her thick corduroy jeans over her legs and a sweater over her body, followed by her long coat and then her big black boots, and her dark hair in a taut ponytail at the back of her head, and she was dressed to kill for the day.
Another day of work at the sea laboratory there on the shores of Homer, Alaska. She had no idea as to how she had arrived there or how she had landed the job in the first place, but there was something so exciting about getting up every morning to observe and help out sea creatures on the banks of the southern Alaskan shores.
She stepped out of her cabin and she walked along the sidewalk which in turn brought her out of the workers’ village. The lab was a part of a warehouse, with large metallic grated doors to open for any sort of fallen creature of unusual size.
There was one entity that she had been studying up there in Alaska, and one that her colleagues seemed rather skeptical on terms of the existence of such a thing: merfolk, especially a merman with black and white scales and hair upon his head. She had only seen him twice before, the first time on accident while she was observing orcas and she mistook him for a small one, and the second time with intention to ensure that her eyes hadn’t fooled her.
This time, she wanted to catch him in the act.
The snow had covered the landscape, and yet, she could sense more on its way at some point in the course of the day. Indeed, as she reached the side door of the laboratory, a cold gust of wind billowed up and sent a series of shivers down her spine. She peered over her shoulder and she brought her attention up to the sky, the incoming gray blanket of clouds.
The snow was coming, and she had no idea if she would be able to catch that merman in the act.
It seemed strange to think about merfolk up in Alaska but she was nevertheless sure of it. She had seen him with her own two eyes, twice, and he had to come out to play again before the snow came in for the day.
The docks of the marina stood right across a narrow street, and she brought her rubber gloves, clipboard, and binoculars along with her. The first time she saw him, he swam with the orcas and then surfaced to the water above, to which she believed to be in the vein of a flying fish, given he was half human. She would have to catch him in the act
“Alright,” she muttered under her breath. She held the binoculars up to her face, and she scanned the choppy waters beyond the rocky jetty which lined the southernmost side of the marina. “Where are you.”
Christine scanned the horizon, followed by the waters closer to her. Like trying to find a needle in the haystack, that is until the next wave rose up down below her line of sight.
Something black loomed underneath the swell of the wave. Something black and long, and too long to be an orca as well.
His head emerged from the water, and she caught a full view of his face, placid and soft, as if he had been sleeping when the waves picked him up and swept him away from his hiding place somewhere in that particular part of Cook Inlet, or the Gulf of Alaska itself. His black hair matted on his forehead, but she made out the shape of the silvery plume upon his forehead. A black and white merman, in his truest sense.
And that wave dragged him all the way to the shore.
She put down her binoculars upon her chest, and she picked up the clipboard, and she hurried down to the weather station there at the shoreline to meet up with him once he beached.
She set her instruments in the cubby hole of the weather station, and she watched the wave form a crest with him embedded within. The wave swelled and crashed down onto the shore before her feet: at least he was there at the shore and not upon the rock jetty right up the coastline from there.
But his body washed ashore, as limp and listless as a piece of driftwood. Christine hurried down to meet up with him. He had no color in his face, but the gills on either side of his neck fluttered and waved with his way of breathing.
“Alex, you have to be freezing!” she exclaimed over the roar of the winds. He never moved.
He was still breathing, but he needed assistance. He needed to be away from such a harsh environment.
“Oh, my god,” she remarked as her eyes scanned over those smooth black scales. Smooth black scales in junction with the pale skin of his body, which in turn went with the black curls as well as the gray plume at the crown of his head. His fins were long, slender, and lacy, and his rudder fin spanned wider than any thresher shark that she had ever witnessed before then.
Snow bunny needed to put this boy in some water. And yet, since he lasted this long, she wondered if he could survive in the cold water tank back at the lab. Given she was alone there at the shore, she faced a rather daunting task of carrying him back to the warehouse. Another gust of cold wind swelled up and his little body recoiled at the feeling. He would die out there.
A literal fish out of water, and she knew that it was the cold clouds which hung down over their heads and bodies that brought such a deep shudder to his body.
Thinking quickly and with her rubber gloves firmly on, she stooped down before the merman, and she slid her hands underneath his beached body. With her knees, she brought him close to her body. It was difficult given he was much heavier than he really looked, but she managed to hold his head and shoulder upon her chest.
Christine let out a low whistle and she doubled back to the marina itself as well as the laboratory. It was difficult given the wind blew all around her, and the merman weighed her down, and there was a slight slope right outside of the warehouse itself, but something inside of her kept her going. She swore that she was to help him, come hell or high water, even if it meant that her knees buckled every so often and she wanted to take a rest. But the storm was coming, and this poor boy needed some assistance. This boy needed a hero in the form of a human woman who had been willing to put her body on the line.
At one point, she closed her eyes, and she let her own intuition guide the way up the very slight hill to the very crest. Though he was a merman, she had a tiny ray of a good feeling inside of her, that his heart linked up with her own, and that they were meant for one another at some point. She had to help him all the while he showed her the way, all the way up to the top of the hill.
Christine opened her eyes again, and she huffed and puffed from running so hard and so fast this whole time. The top of the hill entered her sight, and soon, it leveled out. It was agonizing, such that her legs burned from the running, but the end was in sight. The big heavy grated doors of the laboratory stood in her view.
With a loud grating noise, they ground open for her, and Christine bowed her way into the warm and dry spans of safety for herself and for Alex. The doors slammed back down to the concrete with a loud metallic crack! right behind her, and right as the snow began to fall outside.
Out of breath, she padded up the narrow metal steps which led up to the glass water tank for beached creatures, and before she believed that her chest would burst from her lungs and heart pumping and working as hard as her, she almost threw him into those clean waters. Alex landed with a hefty splash.
Panting, she bowed over the railing with her arms dangled down before her. She watched him below the surface, and those long black lacy fins spanned out from the heart of his long black tail. He genuinely resembled a thresher shark, and the biggest one that she had seen in years at that point.
“Come on,” she whispered, and he tilted his head down towards the bottom of the tank. “Come on, come on, come on—you can do it.”
As he tilted his head back to the bottom, she spotted his long black curls out from the sides of his head. A big black octopus which appeared to loom underneath the crown of his head.
The pale skin on his upper body blurred away with the wash of water all around him. When he leaned further and further back down towards the bottom, all she could see was the skin on his chest as well as his entire belly and a slight outline of his arms.
Still out of breath, she held onto the railing before her, and she watched him sink down towards the bottom of the tank like a big black and white stone.
There was a part of her that wanted to swim with him, to run her hands over his bare milky skin as well as those slick black scales, and yet she knew that water was freezing cold, only slightly warmer in comparison to the water of the harbor and beyond. The feel of her hands on his body to wake him up, but as soon as she thought about that, he extended his arms up over his head and he darted forth to round out the full backflip underwater.
His spine bent back far enough to where all she saw at a moment’s glance was nothing but a long black tail.
“Okay,” she muttered to herself. “My boyfriend’s a merman.”
He skirted around the base of the tank with his arms spread out from his body, and for a moment, Christine believed that he was in fact a shark straight out of the wild.
And then he darted up towards the surface.
His black hair matted down upon the crown of his head and shoulders: the silver plume over his forehead seemed to glitter under the pale white lights over her head.
“You feeling better?” she called down to him.
“As a matter of fact, I am,” he replied, and his silky, round voice echoed over the oval walls of the tank. “Sometimes all I need is to dunk myself in a patch of water somewhere to jostle me awake.”
“Jostle you awake?” she asked, as she folded her arms over the railing.
“Sometimes when I’m asleep, I’ll bump my head on something,” he explained. “Happens to fish all the time. I’m half fish so it happens to me, too.” He knitted his eyebrows at the sight of her. “Are you a scientist?”
“Marine biologist,” she answered. “I was watching the orcas one day and I saw you with them. I told my colleagues about it and they didn’t believe me.”
“Oh, what the hell!” He chuckled at that, a big hearty belly laugh that came from deep down inside of him. “I love swimming with the killer whales, mainly because they go everywhere. I like to go everywhere, too.”
“Don’t we all?” she offered him with a slight chuckle and a little smile.
“How’d you know my name, by the way?” He squinted his eyes at her.
“I had a hunch,” she said with a shrug. “How do you like Alaska?”
“I love it,” he said. “I love how cold the waters are up here—it feels really good on my skin and I swim better, too. I love Hawai’i and the Philippines, all the tropical waters, but there’s just something special about the Gulf of Alaska, though.”
“Have you gone around the North Pole?” she asked him.
“Ooh, yeah—not often, though. It’s a pain in the butt to go up there this time of year because of all the ice, but once April or May rolls around, I give it a shot. The couple of times I went up there, I made my way around and I hung out in Greenland for a long time—we’re talking a year or so.”
“Always wanted to know what Greenland is like,” she confessed.
“If you like Alaska, you’ll probably like Greenland,” he assured her. “It’s good for a traveling merman like myself—I’ll say that much.”
Christine shifted her weight against the railing: it was funny to hear him say he was half-fish when he was obviously half thresher shark.
“Do you have a family at all?”
“I did,” he said, albeit in a gloomy tone. “Let’s just say I’ve had my heart broken a couple of times.”
“Aw.”
“And pretty recently, too.”
“Oh, man. I wish I could do something.”
He shrugged.
“What can you do?” he asked her.
“Put on a wet suit and climb in with you?”
“Would you?” He raised his eyebrows at that.
“I think I would,” she promptly replied, and with a smile on her face. “I am a scientist, after all. I want to study you.”
He squinted his eyes and cracked her a smile once again.
Christine doubled back to the nearby closet to change out of her clothes and into the snug black wetsuit she used while she waded in the pool. She kept her hair tied back as she put on her flippers followed by the small oxygen tank on her back and the goggles over her eyes. She adjusted the corners of the wetsuit all around her body once she returned to him and the edge of the pool. She would treat it like a regular scuba session as she crouched down to the pool’s edge and stuck one flipper-clad foot out over the cold water.
Alex was still emerged over the surface, albeit a bit low so his chin touched it. He resembled to an actual shark in the waters.
“Come here,” he declared.
“What do you say?” she teased him.
“Come here,” he declared. “Please?”
“Okay.” She snapped the collar of the wet suit and then she sat down upon the brim of the glass. She gazed down at him there in the tank, the water only a few degrees warmer than it was out there in the ocean.
He liked it cold. He liked it as chilly as he could possibly withstand it, though he could swim in places that seemed much colder, like up above the Arctic Circle.
It was crazy, especially when she knew about those cold depths down below the surface. But she trusted Alex, however: she trusted him to the ends of the earth.
She stayed still there on the edge of the tank, and she stuck the breathing mechanism into her mouth. With her goggles on, and her gloves still upon her hands, she took in a gulp of air and bowed forth into the tank below.
The water and the tiny bubbles swirled all around her. The cold of the tank took her in its arms.
She opened her eyes, and there was Alex right over her head. His upper body loomed like that of a sea turtle, but she lowered her gaze to the middle of his body, to his full rounded hips and what rested in between there. Even as a merman, she could see that he had a major hard-on.
He lunged for her, and she darted back away from him.
“Don’t make me chase you,” he warned her with a sly look on his handsome face. She pressed her hands on her hips and she sashayed the shape of her body at him. He chuckled at her, and then he showed her his tongue.
Christine paddled away from him, but then he reached out for her to touch her body.
“Come to me,” he whispered: his voice crept over her like the winds over the ocean prior to incoming storm. The snow had already begun to fall outside of there, but the real storm was about to take place right before their eyes.
“Touch me,” he begged her. “I’m lonely and I have scars that can’t be seen. You took me to safety—I need you, my good human.”
She took a glimpse down to below his waist, and she recognized that long shape a mere few inches underneath his belly button, just out in the open as if it had no restraints whatsoever. She reached down and she ran her fingers along the shaft as it was there nestled upon his black scales. If he was healthy, he would have ejaculated for her: but he never did.
“You’re dry as a bone,” she declared through the flux of oxygen.
“I want to feel,” he pleaded to her, and he rested his hands upon her shoulders. His hands were soft and silken, even though he had been tumbled by the waves and the sand and the salt.
It was then she realized that she had to make him climax all to be healthy. She locked eyes with him, and she rested both hands on him. Though she had rubber gloves on, she could feel the tightness of his skin as if she was actually about to have a round with him. Indeed, she realized that the rubber served as makeshift protection.
She ran her fingers down his shaft, all the way to the tip, and she ran the tip of her finger around the rim of the hole there. She stuck her finger in there to tickle him, and he lunged back a bit.
“Ooh—!” He gasped at the feeling.
“There we go!” Christine declared.
She reached forth under the shaft, and she spotted the precious spot. She wriggled her fingers along the surface of his testicles, and she tickled him. He writhed from the feeling, and then he bowed his head, so his hair spanned out from the back like a bunch of kelp at the water’s surface.
She moved in closer to his body to better feel him: though she wore a wetsuit, her breasts brushed up against his chest. She kept her eyes locked onto him.
A human woman pleasuring a creature who was half-man half-thresher shark.
His chest rose and fell in steady succession.
She pushed her shoulders down which in turn spread out her chest for him. He closed his eyes; she fondled his shaft as well as his balls until she could feel something liquid upon the back of her hand. She took a look down, and she saw the pearly cum out the tip.
He parted his lips and a line of bubbles trickled out from his mouth like a line of cigarette smoke. He then took her by the hand, and he brought her back up to the water’s surface. The water spread over the crown of his head and smoothed down the silvery streak at the right side; Christine followed suit and she took the mechanism out of her mouth all so she could breathe.
He leaned forth and kissed her on the lips, like a pair of smooth ripe cherries right off the tree branch.
“Thank you,” he breathed to her. “I needed that so much.”
“And I needed that, too,” she confessed with another kiss on his lips.
“No one knows about this,” he told her.
“Not a soul,” she replied. “I always shower after I take a dip in the pool, anyway. What should I do with you?”
“Tell your colleagues about me,” he coaxed her. “Take your notes, write your report, show me to them. But don’t ever tell them about the encounter here. They needn’t know that you helped open me up after I had such awful experiences in the past.” He flashed her a wink, and she kissed him a third time.
“What’s past is prologue, baby,” she told him in a low voice. “Time to heal. Time to see and lick your wounds.”
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As the Seasons Grey