He was perfect.

He was actually less cut than Ryu had been—less fitness model perfect and more real, more rugged. It’s not that Anyan wasn’t in incredibly good shape—he was, ropey muscles evident throughout his body. But he was thicker, less defined but bigger, and very Anyan. His body was like everything about him: it spoke of a man who loved life and lived hard, but didn’t live for fashion or trends. His was a body carved by running, working, and riding—not a body carved out in a gym by a personal trainer.

My eyes were perusing him slowly, taking him all in—from the grace of his smoothly muscled calf to the breadth of his shoulder, but I was purposely keeping myself away from the main event. Slowly, lingeringly, I allowed my eyes to trace down that strong chest, down that flat stomach, to the magnificent cock that jutted, hard and proud and tempting, right in front of me.

And by jutted, I mean I was pretty sure we were going to need to hollow out one of my legs, or something, when we did finally have sex. Don’t get me wrong—he wasn’t porn-freak big and I didn’t have a lot of experience. But big is big, and I was a relatively small person.

“Oh puppy, I hope you have a shoehorn,” I murmured.

“What?” he asked, as I took his hands to stand. He watched me, curiously.

“Nothing. But before we do anything else, I need a swim,” I said. “After which, we can play.”

I let a lazy finger trail down his chest before I pulled him to the water. But he was immovable, his feet anchored to the sand.

Curiously, I turned back to see a look of shame on his face. He must have seen some of my answering worry because he pulled me back against him, touching my face gently.

“It’s not you,” he said. “It’s just…”

I waited, but whatever he had to say must have been really serious, because he stayed silent. My imagination went supernova, imagining secret families, supernatural venereal diseases, a latex fetish that would soon find me encased in an inflatable cat suit.

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s just… erm…” He took a deep breath. “It’s just…”

“Spit it out, puppy,” I said, my voice threatening all sorts of punishments if he didn’t start talking, and soon.

“I can’t swim,” he said, blurting it out so fast I could barely make out his words.

“You can’t what?” I asked.

“I can’t swim,” he said, looking down at his feet and blushing almost purple.

I couldn’t help it. I started giggling. Then I was laughing. I don’t know if it was relief that I wasn’t going to be donning an inflatable rubber romper, or that it was just a much needed break from the crazy stresses of the week, or if I couldn’t believe that Anyan—Anyan who could do everything!—couldn’t do this one thing I took entirely for granted.

“Are you kidding me?” I asked, when I’d finally stopped laughing.

“No,” he said, obviously rather put out by my having treated his confession so lightly. “Why would I need to learn how to swim? I grew up in the Midwest, for the most part, where there wasn’t a lot of water. And there’s never any fights in the water.”

“Yeah, the Sea Code,” I said, referring to the set of rules the water-supernaturals lived by, partially because the Alfar never bothered to police the seas themselves.

“And I’m an earth and air elemental,” Anyan complained. “Why would I go into all that… that… wet?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Of course he’d dislike the water, especially deep ocean water, as it left him cut off from recharging his powers.

“It’s all right,” I said, standing on tiptoes again to kiss him gently. He looked relieved, letting go of my hands to indicate I was free to swim without him.

I took them back up, determinedly.

“Oh, no,” I said. “It’s not all right you can’t swim.”

He looked stricken, causing me to giggle again.

“Which is why I’m going to teach you.”

His eyes widened as I pulled him down the beach, his feet dragging like a man going to his own execution.

And here I’d always thought it was cats that didn’t like the water.

A petrified barghest was no easier to move than if he really had been stone.

“It’s okay, Anyan,” I said, my voice as soothing and calm as I could make it. After all, I didn’t want him to know I was contemplating how to knock his legs out from under him. “You’re doing fine.”

I was debating the relative merits of a karate chop compared with a kick to the back of knees, when Anyan took another, faltering step forward.

“Good puppy,” I murmured. But he still looked as though he’d rather be anywhere else on the planet. Including Turkish prisons and/or very traditional baby showers, replete with games involving chocolate bars smeared in diapers.

And yes, there was a special circle of hell for whoever invented things like that.

Another few faltering steps forward and Anyan was nearly waist deep in the water. His hand in mine trembled, and I saw a shiver rack his body.

“Are you cold?” I asked, unsure whether he had forgotten to regulate his temperature or if he was afraid. I couldn’t imagine him afraid.

“I’m fine,” he said, through gritted teeth. Which meant he was scared.

Resisting the urge to say, “Awwwwww,” at the sight of Anyan shaking like the cowardly lion, I instead squeezed his hand.

“You’re doing beautifully,” I repeated, urging him forward even more. Eventually, a thousand baby steps later, we were at an impasse. I was using my power to keep me afloat, but he was still standing, straining to as great a height as possible so his face was out of the water. Little waves kept splashing him, though, and he looked as miserable and bedraggled as I’d ever seen him.

“C’mon, puppy. Time to get your head wet.”

He gave me a gimlet eye, steadfastly refusing to budge.

“It won’t be bad. I’ll make sure you’re safe. This is my element, remember?”

His lips compressed even more and his nostrils flared, but he still didn’t move.

I swam forward, wrapping myself around him, our wet bodies slick and soft against one another. Anyan probably found all that water less erotic than I did, but I kissed him anyway, letting my power envelop us both. The kiss was as raw and passionate as I could make it. Yes, I’d wanted to go swimming as I’d really needed a recharge. Yes, I’d interrupted our canoodling to drag him into the water, especially after I found out he couldn’t swim. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t just about as horny as I’d ever been, my libido practically sitting in a corner and rocking it was so worked up. So I put all that emotion into my kiss—all my passion, my need for him, the fact I’d been aching for him for so long, now.

The fact that my bringing him into my ocean wasn’t about torturing him, but about my sharing myself with him, before I shared myself with him.

Whether he gleaned any of my nuanced intentions from that kiss or not, something was definitely working. His mouth on mine was fierce, and his hands had moved to cup my buttocks. I wrapped my legs around him and kissed him for all I was worth, rubbing against him like I was part jellyfish.

He moved his right hand from my butt around to my front, slipping it down between us to find the aching flesh between my legs. I shuddered against him, careful not actually to gasp, as his fingers found my clit, rubbing gently before slipping inside of me.

I let him finger fuck me, keeping my eyes locked on his to let him see all of my pleasure. He thought that was hot, obviously. But keeping him distracted like that also meant that he hadn’t noticed we’d slipped entirely underwater, my power keeping us “breathing” and afloat, at the same time anchoring us so we didn’t float too far away on the tide.

Feeling the first waves of an orgasm building inside of me, I regretfully pushed away from him. It’s not that I didn’t want to come, but I didn’t want to lose my carrot. If he wanted my body, he was going to have to swim for it.

It’s only when I pushed away that he realized he was already well underwater. Those beautiful stern eyes widened, but my hand squeezed around his, reminding him that I was there, that we’d been underwater for a while, and that he was fine. When he’d calmed himself, I smiled, and then pulled him to the surface.

It was time for the lessons to begin.

When I’d suggested a swim, the last thing on earth I’d expected was to discover the barghest was a landlubber to the core. I’d pulled him to the water as more of a reflex action than anything else—the idea of Anyan not being able to swim was just unacceptable, and I’d reacted. It was as simple as that.

I would never have dreamed that it would be so incredibly awesome to give him that first lesson.

Maybe it was the role reversal—Anyan had always been the teacher and I’d always been the student. Maybe it was the simple fact that there we were, naked, in my element. Maybe it was the fact I loved swimming the way other people loved their children, and I got to teach something so important to me to someone who was becoming equally important. Whatever the combination of pleasures, I’d never felt closer to the barghest than at that moment.