A light sleeper, the jaguar was awake almost the moment that contact was made with his skin, the merfolk’s hands warm against his skin even despite the summer heat and sun. He practically leapt out of his flesh because of it, a shadow of his usually calm and composed self, he flailed wildly, cursing in a string of syllables that strung together into an incoherent noise of sheer surprise. Though supernaturally strong, Carjen had been caught off guard and, a land-walker with no interest in venturing toward the deeper waters where the merfolk gathered, he was close to shore. It was only a moment of embarrassing disarray before he was on his back in the dirt, looking up into the smiling face of the most infuriating man he’d ever met.

“YOU!” He exclaimed more loudly than he had intended, frantically shoving at the merman to release himself. He’d met this particular pile of fish guts before, many many years ago. Carjen had been a smuggler for a long time in his youth, it was the source of much of his funds, but when he had started it had been rough. He’d had to sleep around and perform odd, mostly sexual jobs to scrounge up enough money for a small boat and a crew of only two other men, and it had been hard. They had to row everywhere, it was exhausting, dodging bigger ships, getting lost in the fog, nearly dying in the storms at sea. It was more than a decade of hard work and solid crafty dodging of the rules to earn enough money for his first real ship from a scavenger. It was a lousy piece of shit that turned out to be more of a curse than a good deal but dammit it had been his first ship and he had been so proud of himself.

Then one night, he’d turned around, ready to sail into the wild blue yonder on his new ship with his new crew, and a man with this same smiling face, those damned ginger dreadlocks and that infuriatingly green tail had leapt over the side of the ship with a cheerful wave and the last of his gold. The scavenger almost took the ship back, it had been his last payment. How dare someone steal from him? Sure Carjen Brando was a low life nobody back then, just another smuggler in Scavenger’s Port, but now he could do something, say something, and it all boiled in his throat like a pot on the stove. It came out as a snarl and he shoved the man again, just trying to generally be aggressive.

“I remember your filthy mug, you absolute scumbag.” He paused to scramble to his feet, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The asshole had kissed him too, how dare! “You stole gold from me when I was small and weak. I swore I’d kill you for it if I ever saw you again.”

Carjen reeled, recoiling backward as he was patted.

“Don’t touch me.” He spat viciously. He hated to be petted. Well that wasn’t true, in fact that was quite the contrary, he loved to be stroked and patted, to have his ears played with, his hair toyed with and pulled. But only in a certain situation and by certain people, this was not the time or the place for that, out in public where people could see, the mere thought, well if he was honest it was kind of hot actually, but not with this scum of the earth, never. The jaguar sneered angrily from where he sat ungracefully on his rump in only his wet underwear, a thin shock of white cloth that was wrapped in a figure eight around his pelvis. He was a little shameless about displaying himself, legs parted, being a shifter whose clothes were not usually saved in the process he was very uncaring when it came to nudity. But something about the thought of doing something obscene in a public place had him stirring and he brought his knees up suddenly in response, looking suddenly quite bashful despite his palpable rage.

“I should split you in half for that. I needed that gold to pay for my ship.” He noticed the somewhat distant look in the merfolk’s eye and his brow furrowed. “You barely remember you insufferable piece of garbage, I was just another in a long line of sailors you screwed, wasn’t I?”

His voice was not genuinely hurt, just distressed, clearly thrown off kilter by this encounter. He wanted to be angry, to lash out with claws and fangs and tear the man a sunder, and he could really, no one was near enough to stop him, let alone to take note of who was the victim and who was the perpetrator. It’d be over in mere moments. But the big cat that roiled beneath his skin begged him to keep his calm, for some reason it was always the more sensible of his personalities in times like this and though he huffed and he puffed and he snarled and bared his teeth, he let the merman get close to him, only growled lowly and glared. After all, he did like being called handsome.

“You don’t even know my name do you?” He accused, lines burned deep into his forehead as he frowned.

Carjen’s disgust was immediately apparent and his face twisted into an animalistic snarl. The merman was infuriating him, so cocky, so arrogant, and for what reason? Because he had a pretty tail? Bah. He was average at best and was the least graceful man to have a conversation with Carjen had ever experienced. Handsome, bah. He wanted to spit, to turn and throw dirt in the merman’s eyes, but still his jaguar roiled, hushed him with gentle purrs. The merfolk was just playing with him and Carjen did not like to be played, to be tricked or fooled, to be lulled into a rage or set into anger just for the fun of it, he would not play that game. So though he huffed out a breath and wriggled slightly beneath the merman’s bulk, he was determined to hold his ground, scooting away only a little bit, their faces too close together, their bare chests almost touching. He turned his head away to gain some distance and glared.

“You’re an insufferable fool. I could end you right here and right now.” He threatened, though his deep voice wavered slightly, a stone with a crack in it.

He didn’t really have a reason why he wasn’t tearing this man a sunder, why he didn’t simply grow his claws and pounce. Something about murder bothered him, not as much as slavery and working people against their will but certainly a lot, tasteless and senseless and barbaric. He needed reason, he needed motive, he couldn’t just kill because the guy was a little too hands on with him, that was just absurd, thoughtless, almost childish, breaking a toy just because it was the wrong color. He was bigger than that, stronger, he would not be pulled in. Carjen balled his hands into fists in a physical display of his resistance, filling his palms with the dirt that his hands rested in.

“It’s Carjen you petty little scumbag.” He said finally after a long moment’s pause. “My name… it’s Carjen.”

“I’m a Lord, not a prince.” Carjen corrected tersely, oddly unbothered by the implication that he was some sort of damsel in distress. He had been sort of alarmed by the water in his nose, on a good day in a good mood, maybe with a belly full of ale, he’d admit that the man had saved his life. But here, now, he sat under the idea that he’d had everything totally under control and that the merman was just being dramatic. He seemed to have a flare for drama, this man. It was somewhat amusing, like a child putting on a play for his parents, or his crush maybe. That thought sent a wave of disgust through the shifter. The merman obviously had it out for him and the logical part of his mind told him to kick and scream and flail against it, to tear and rend and bite and hiss. But it had been… a shamefully long time. He’d been so busy this month working on projects, saving up that last bit of gold, finding a contractor that he liked and explaining what he wanted to be added to his stables to several different people, he hadn’t had time alone, even to himself, in weeks. The cat in him was desperate for it, keened for it, so when the merman leaned in and kissed him again, Carjen did not pull away this time.

He didn’t deepen the kiss either, though the panther in him begged him to, to let it play with the long strands of the man’s hair and run its claws over his exposed chest, to leave little red lines, to own and dominate him. But Carjen was still resisting mightily and after only a moment, he turned his head sharply and broke away. He would’ve scooted away again but his back was against a rock, he was cornered and had nowhere to go. This honestly unnerved him, he didn’t like to be trapped, he always wanted to be the one in the control of a situation usually and this was no control. But he was tired, he wanted time off, a release of all the tension and heartache of work and fighting and being himself. He wanted a break.

He slowly turned back to the merfolk, taking a long silent moment to study his facial features with his brow furrowed in deep thought and consideration. He wanted to sneer again, the thought of doing such a thing, in a public place no less, with this man? This thieving scumbag. But his breaths came heavy as the panther leapt and roiled around inside of him.

“Ah fuck it.”

He let the merman kiss him again, this time going along with it softly, hesitantly but willing. He made sure to use his teeth, to let his elongated canines run along the other man’s lower lip and clack against the merfolk’s incisors. He huffed his defeat in a deep sigh and paused just briefly enough to speak.

“You gotta pay me back for that gold somehow.”

Carjen growled against the touch, the sound rumbling in his chest like thunder, shuddering against the merman’s hand where it was pressed against his flesh. Jaguars couldn’t purr, and even if they could Carjen was probably not the type to ever utter such a sound. He was always troubled by something, business was always nagging at his mind and it was hard to ever relax fully into someone or something, except maybe his work. He did find carving shapes into leather awfully cathartic. No, it was definitely a growl, something harsh and threatening, still cold and defiant as he always was, even though he had given in to the other man’s advances, he was still something of a beast. He growled again as his neck was encircled by strong arms and his sternum met the chest of the other man and he could suddenly feel a heartbeat, feel the blood flow through his veins. Though the panther in him was at its most playful at the moment, it still teased at the idea of freeing that blood, seeing that red liquid pour down the rocks and into the water.

That impulse he didn’t resist. Instead, he rode it, kissing the merman hard and long, full of teeth and a biting sense of urgency. He brought his hands up to the man’s bare chest, his logical mind telling him to push, to move him away, to at least get him onto his back so the jaguar could be on top. But he didn’t, instead he simply touched, simply felt that blood flow beneath skin and counted the gentle bumps of a heartbeat. He wanted to make it race, to make it flutter about in its place in that chest. Carjen didn’t care about this man, he wasn’t really interested in pleasing him so much as he just always wanted to perform well at the things he did, a perfectionist at a craft. He wanted to be a good fuck, not really for either of their sakes, just for the sake of all of it, for the fame and the praise that just came with being skilled, he wanted that, not the love or affection.

Making a noise low in his throat, something less than a growl this time, he broke their kiss for a moment and separated just far enough so that he could unravel his legs where he’d bunched them against his chest. He slid them under and to the sides of the merman, straddling him, feeling the rough texture of wet scales against the skin of his bare legs, cat and fish coming together in a weird way that made him look down between them briefly. But he seemed to dismiss it quickly enough, shrugging slightly before returning to the task at hand. He attacked the merman’s throat, biting gently and lapping at it like it was his favorite food. It tasted of sweat and fresh water, something cool and refreshing and still there was that tantalizing tease of blood and heart and flesh and life that he could just drain away. All he needed to do was bite down hard enough, grip hard enough, rip and tear. And he did, rip and tear, but gently enough not to cause permanent harm, just enough, just enough. He moved his hands around to the merman’s back where he could grip at the rippling muscles and sink his nails into the waiting flesh, leaving divots. He’d leave more than a divot by the time he was through.

"More." He grumbled lowly against the merfolk's pulse point which he mouthed roughly. "More of that, tell me what you think of me."

Carjen gave a long and languid stretch where he lay on his back in the fine, soft dirt of the lakewater shore, reaching his arms above his head and straightening his legs. The toes of his paws splayed gently, unsheathing curved claws in the same motion, and his tail swished gently between his parted legs. He wasn’t sure when he’d grown such things, his panther side always came out at least partially during sex, he wasn’t surprised, just always mystified by how open and free he always felt afterward. The muscles in his toned chest flexed as he brought his handpaws down to look at them, wringing them together, running soft pads over the furred backs. Even in the low light he could see faint spots here and there. He sighed contentedly, smiling with his eyes. That had been the most pleasant way to spend an afternoon and he felt liberatingly comfortable in the moment. He turned to look at the merman briefly.

“Oh I don’t know.” He spoke with some distance to his voice. “Home I suppose.”

He spoke distractedly, thinking. He’d really intended to spend most of the weekend away from his keep, away from the trials and tribulations that went with running a manor and a clan and such things. But he simultaneously felt like he’d satisfied his need to get out and the homebody in him was tugging him back toward his responsibilities. It would be a few days walk to get there from here anyway, still plenty of time to relax and enjoy the scenery of the forest, to hunt perhaps, maybe fuck a few more times if the merman was interested in seeing what Chase Fire keep had to offer him.

“I have a castle in Mir.” Carjen said, sitting up in one brisk fluid motion, all feline grace and confidence. He paused to have a look around, searching for his underwear but it had been tossed away in the fun and, with long shadows cast down on them from the trees, he couldn’t find them. Ah well. He was not bothered by nudity in the least bit, even before a good fuck. Being a shifter, his clothes were not spared when he changed forms so it was not even slightly uncommon for him to find himself naked somewhere unpleasant, he’d just grown used to it after nearly three hundred years. He sighed again contentedly and gave his back a good scratch, arching against the sensation. “You’re welcome to come see it. It’ll be a few days walk from here, plenty of time for more ‘fun stuff’ on the way... Unless you have a more enticing idea.”