The dreams began exactly three months before, on the eve of Ostara. They were sultry, salty wisps that wrapped around Mary’s subconscious while she slept, filling her mind with images of craggy cliffs topped with grasses that waved in the briny breeze and terminated in the breaking waves of a cold, grey sea. Sounds assaulted her, echoing between canyons of rock, sounding like honking or barking. In the roiling waters, sleek silvery shapes streaked to and fro, much too fast to identify, but leaving trails of luminescence in their wake.

The air in these dreams seemed to throb with tangible energy, pulsing through Mary’s blood and bones, calling her to come, to seek, to find. Night after night, the dreams wove their magic, until it became the most natural thing to go. And so, Mary found herself on this rocky cliff in one of the most remote coasts of northern Scotland, the sea breeze strong and salty, and surprisingly cold for Midsummer. It hadn’t consciously occurred to her that she’d be standing there precisely on the eve of Litha, the longest day of the year, but somewhere inside, she must have known.

Her hair whipped around her in long, loose strands, as if conspiring with the wind to make her jump. Jump. Mary started and stepped back from the edge that was suddenly right at her toes. Where had that thought come from? It had been a voice, or like a voice, woven into the ceaseless breeze. The water crashed on the rocks below, and she could swear she saw shapes racing just below the surface. Frowning a little, she looked back at the ground, wondering where in the world her shoes had gone. 

No, she wouldn’t jump, but she could get closer. The night sky was mostly clear, a huge full moon lending its reflected light to guide her as she descended a treacherous path to the rocky beach created between cliff faces. It was a tiny, protected bay, the gritty sand and wet rocks luminous under the lunar glow.

Mary stood just at the edge of the sand, the movement of the waves on the beach enthralling her. She watched, subconsciously aware that she was waiting for something, or someone. After some time, she realized that she was no longer alone.

At the edge of the water, barely out of reach of the waves, stood a man. He seemed to have appeared as if by magic, and perhaps that was so. Mary’s eyes widened as she took in his perfect form. Wide shoulders, narrow hips, lithe, toned muscles from shoulder to calf. The moon illuminated half of his body, shadows hiding the rest, but it was absolutely clear that he was entirely nude. A blush warmed her cheeks, as Mary noted that he was rather well endowed in the groin area, as well.

The stranger was wet, as if he’d come directly from the sea. The drips coursed down his body almost lovingly, and Mary found herself wishing she could do the same. That thought surprised her the most, as throughout her life, she’d only ever felt the vaguest attraction to other humans. It had never been strong enough to bother with much beyond the occasional hug. She’d tried kissing once, but it had felt entirely wrong. Now, though, all sorts of sensual thoughts were bombarding her, from the suppleness of his lower lip to the delectable lines of his abdominal muscles, and regions further south.

Not human. The thought caressed her mind, the “voice” attached to it deep and enchanting. Mary wondered over that, fairly certain that the thought was not hers at all. She took a step onto the cold, rough sand, then another, drawn to the mysterious man-shaped creature.

As she got closer, she noticed more things about him. His hair extended down past his shoulders, a dark, sleek looking mass that made her want to run her fingers through it. He had sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, darkened with whiskers that threatened to become a beard soon. His eyes seemed to gather the moonlight and reflect it back, making them glow pale white. He was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The man smiled as she had this thought, and she wondered if it was beyond the realm of possibility that he could hear her mind.

I hear you. Mary stared at the man for another moment, then stepped even closer, drawn to his lifeforce beyond any explanation. He held out his hand, beckoning her.

“What are you?” Mary whispered, feeling as if she floated in her dreams still, her own hand lifting to touch his.

His eyes flashed and his grin widened, revealing a mouthful of sharply pointed teeth. His voice, when it came, was as it had been in her mind, only more so. “Selk,” he said.

Mary gasped, eyes going wide in panic, but it was too late. He held her by the wrist and drew her to him, even as she locked her knees and tried to pull away. The man was inhumanly strong, and he gathered her in his arms, her body pressed tightly, intimately, to his. Mary panted in fear, her own hands pressed against the iron-hard surface of his chest, trying to push away from him. At the same time, she noticed his smoothness, the suppleness of his skin. He was warm, too, so warm.

The man leaned into her, pressed his nose to her hair and inhaled deeply. Mary shuddered, feeling his hands travel down her body, learning the planes and curves, and at the same time, causing an undeniable response in her. She both heard and felt the growl in his throat, then she heard the rip of her long, thin nightdress. Those hands rent it from neck to hem in a single, powerful tug, leaving her entirely bare. The cold night breeze caressed her everywhere his hands and body were not, an equation that changed constantly as he explored.

Mary’s body grew heated in places she’d never experienced. At twenty-five, she was still very much a virgin, and entirely inexperienced in the ways of men. She hadn’t even had an orgasm, simply because she’d never thought to experiment in that way. Now, though, her body was set ablaze. Her skin sizzled with sensation, and her heart leapt in excitement.

The man, being, whatever touched her everywhere. His hands cupped her breasts, fingers pinching suddenly beaded nipples. Mary cried out in surprise, a sound that turned into a moan when he twisted and pulled on the taut peaks. Those wicked palms cupped her pert bottom and pulled her flush to his hips, where Mary felt his manhood throb. Another growl, and suddenly teeth scored her shoulder. Mary screamed in pain, the points of those sharp fangs piercing her, marking her. Then, her mind exploded with images, sensations, sounds.

She saw harems of seals - selkies - swimming through the water, those glossy pelts zinging with speed and precision. They dashed and played, swimming effortlessly through the dark, cold waters of the seas here. She felt happiness and love unlike anything she’d ever felt. They were entirely devoted to one another. There were images of them sunning on rocks, hunting as a group, rutting as animals are wont to do, but there was a higher intelligence at work. Mary also saw them change. They took on the guise of humans, their pelts sloughing off at their feet as they changed.

One image dominated the spinning reel in her mind. A selkie changed on the beach, her pelt lying in a pool at her feet. She walked further onto the beach and into the arms of a tall, handsome man. They embraced and kissed, losing themselves in pleasures of the flesh. The picture morphed into a banked campfire, the woman/selkie asleep in a pile of furs. In the shadows, the man watched for a moment, then slunk to the water’s edge where her pelt still lay. He gathered it up, running the sleek fur through his fingers, then bundled it up and placed it into a leather satchel.

The image changed again, and the woman was crying at his feet, her desperation evident in the wracking sobs that shook her. He looked upon her with stoic determination, his arms crossed in a dominant manner. In the distance, Mary could hear the rest of the harem barking in lament at their lost sister. The grief washed over Mary and she whimpered in the man’s arms. Then, the image changed again, and she saw the woman’s children, and her children’s children. Finally, she saw her own mother holding her, newborn and sleeping. Then, Mary thought she understood.

The images stopped, and the man - the selk - removed his mouth from her shoulder. His hand came to rest on her chest between her breasts. Then, he looked into her eyes, his still that otherworldly luminous white, and he said, “Mine.”

Mary sighed, then nodded, feeling for the first time in her entire life, that she was where she belonged. Now, with steady motions, she stroked her hands up his chest to cup his face. Her thumbs ran over the rough whiskers on his cheeks and she pulled his face to hers, forehead to forehead. Quietly, she breathed, “Mine.”

Their lips then came together in a searing, claiming kiss. She tasted the sea on his tongue, and it brought her nothing but joy. Her hands reached up and into his silky hair, delighting in its softness, as his hands stroked her back and cupped her bottom. He lifted her into his arms with ease, and this time she wrapped her legs around his narrow waist. The selk lowered her to the wet sand, where he caressed her everywhere, even as she did the same. His stroking, seeking fingers drew gasps and moans from Mary, as he once again teased her nipples, then trailed lower to find her warm and drenched at her core.

His fingers stroked and explored, and every touch drew a whimpered sigh from Mary, who had known no one’s touch, not even her own. The passion coursing through her was intoxicating, and she reveled in the sensations he brought out in her. She sought his mouth again, her tongue boldly thrusting into him as she rode on the crest of this sensation explosion. Impossibly, it was only growing.

The selk growled against her mouth and he moved his hips in a slow, torturous rhythm between her legs. His hardened length rubbed along her thigh as his fingers continued to arouse, and Mary trembled when he breached her tight, virgin entrance. One finger, gentle but insistent, probed her slick folds. There was no hymen obstructing passage, but she had never experienced penetration of any kind, so his large, beautifully shaped fingers felt large to her. She gasped as he withdrew, then pressed it further, until his finger was entirely sheathed.

Mary arched against him, trying to get used to this new, wild sensation. She felt full, but knew there was more to come. The selk drew his thumb around and around her nub as he began a careful rhythm, and Mary’s hips slowly began moving with him. It felt good. So very very good. The feeling of wildness was rising in her, like effervescent bubbles in the neck of a bottle that’s been shaken, then uncapped. She gasped for breath, her legs splayed wide for this man, her destiny.

He pulled away from her, kissing his way down her body, then Mary moaned when he lapped at her dripping slit. His tongue felt rough but gentle, and the whole thing was entirely too erotic for Mary to take too much more of without coming apart. Her hands went to his hair and she canted her head, watching him latch onto her core to suckle and lick, driving her mad with want.

The selk wrapped his arms around her thighs, holding them open wide, and his luminescent eyes turned up to find hers. She panted and watched, moaning with every lick, feeling as if she was rapidly approaching a precipice over which she would gladly jump, if only this feeling would last forever. The selk’s eyes flashed and growled his approval, ready to claim her for his own.

In a flash, Mary’s entire world shattered into multicolored shards of release. She cried out and bucked against the selk, but he held on, continuing to lap at her as if she was the rarest, most desirable delicacy he’d ever tasted. Mary felt his fingers probe her again, this time two, then three, and she cried out again from the pressure and the pain, but also from the sharp pleasure. He pumped his fingers into her fast and rough, curling into her and rubbing a spot inside her that made her lose all sense. The pulsing waves swamping her entire being redoubled with every thrust, and she cursed at the sky as her orgasm rose up again, then swallowed her whole.

When his fingers withdrew, Mary whimpered at the emptiness she felt, but they were quickly replaced with the blunt tip of his thick, hard member. The selk rose up over her, his eyes brighter than ever. He held her hips as he knelt between her thighs spread wide like an offering to ancient gods, and he took her in one hard, savage thrust. He barked in triumph at the moon as he was sheathed, his cry mixing with Mary’s own cry of pain and pleasure.

Her breathing was ragged as the sting of being so very full momentarily overtook the amazing, earth-shattering sensations the selk had caused just moments before. When he began to withdraw, Mary moaned and hissed. It felt good, and it hurt. When he pressed himself back in, she cried out again. Pleasure. Pain. Slowly, he worked his large cock into her acclimating core. Every thrust brought a grunt, and Mary could tell he was being gentle for her. One hand came to lightly manipulate her hard, distended clit, while the other held her hip in a bruising grip.

With every swipe of his finger and every thrust of his hips, Mary began to feel less pain and more delight. Her hands rose over her body and she held her own breasts, feeling beautiful and desirable, that this glorious specimen of a selk would want her so much. She teased her own nipples and gasped at how it enhanced the thrusting that was now increasing in speed and force. Her eyes still held the selk’s, but now she smiled and reached for him. He leaned down, his lips melding with hers as he thrust himself into her, his breath coming faster and more ragged.

Mary sucked and bit at his lip, and he groaned then gripped her hair and pulled her head back, exposing the alabaster column of her throat. She felt his lips, then his teeth as he bit her just enough to leave a mark. It made her delirious with need again, and the thrusting of his cock was sending her even higher. She closed her eyes and felt for him there, found his rutting beast energy in her mind and embraced it. They fed off each other’s increasing desire, until they were one being, swirling and rising to completion.

When the selk roared his climax, Mary came around him again, her tight muscles milking every last bit of seed from his spurting member. They remained as one for some time, basking in the afterglow of their sex, getting used to each other’s energy. After some time, the selk withdrew and stood, then knelt down and picked Mary up. She leaned against his perfect chest, her hand stroking him lovingly. The thought flashed through her mind that it was time to go, and she smiled, nodding. There was nothing for her here anymore.

Turning to the water, the selk walked into the gently lapping waves. He didn’t stop until the water was to his waist, then he let Mary down and she stood in the sea. It felt like coming home. She looked up into his eyes, those otherworldly moonlit eyes, and she smiled. Then, they dove into the waves together. The beach was silent except for the sound of water washing on the shore. A few hours later, the waves washed in something that looked unsurprisingly like an entire, unbroken human skin suit.