"You still haven't answered my question," you mutter, strained, as a tentacle caresses down the entirety of your back and tail for the umpteenth time while Ursul lays along his side on a stone slab. His pointer finger pulls at his bottom lip at slow, absent intervals as though whatever is running through his mind requires all of his attention—and not in a good way.
He shows no sign of hearing you, instead emitting a long, low groan that turns into a mischievous chuckle. You shift as the action causes his stretched rib and stomach muscles to contract rhythmically.
"Ursul," you call, peeved. When he remains entangled in his thoughts, you grasp hard at the slick tentacle petting you. The appendage reflexively coils around your arm with tingling, sucking sensations that elicit a minute gasp. Ursul's sharp blue irises snap up to you, eyeing your gripped forearm within his undulating tentacle.
You seethe when the tiny suckers nibble at your skin, though something tells you it was intentional. Ursul slowly releases you to reveal several round hickeys coating your arm. "Oops," he sings, feigning innocence, and smirks after a moment.
You hold onto the embarrassing sight and try your best to scowl at him. His perception is too keen, unfortunately, and he chuckles coyly as he pushes himself up and slinks past you. "They'll fade in due time, don't worry," he hums with a flippant wave of the hand.
With a resolving sigh, you mumble, "You better have been thinking damn hard about this deal you've gotten me involved in."
He pauses as if caught red-handed, and gives you an impish smile from over his shoulder. "Mmm...to an extent," he says.
"Of course... Well, can you now answer my question, please?" you repeat with less patience.
Ursul looks at you in a way that seems you've insulted him. "Please?" he grimaces. His disgusted expression indicates the word, from your mouth or his, is not something he favors. "Since when does Captain (y/n) ask for anything?"
It's not as though I wanted to ask, you huff internally. "She does when demanding doesn't work and her patience is running thin," you say.
"If I wanted a polite, brown-nosed guppy, I'd go after the chambermaids," he grumbles, the mere thought alone unappealing to him. A tentacle clutches the gold-plated armlet around your bicep and pulls you into him. "You know better than to ask for something, especially from me. Don't act so modest as though you're not above such a thing. You want an answer? Demand for it; make me tell you. Manipulate my sole obedience to you as you see fit. Otherwise, I've placed my fascination in the wrong girl."
The taunt of losing his affections makes your stomach knot for some reason, so much that you're rather peeved that such a thing would bother you. "I'm not in the mood for this nonsense," you strain against his hold.
But he keeps you arched into him. "Neither am I, sweet cheeks, but I need to know that fiery authority of yours hasn't been doused by a mere kiss," he mutters, his lower body pressing into yours causing you to catch a breath. "Especially for the sake of our deal. I'd hate for it to be unfulfilled."
You can feel he's serious despite his perpetual coy manners. Regardless, you don't have time for this. King Triton is surely suspicious of your prolonged absence and might send more guardsmen to check things out. Plus the assumed failure of not handling things effectively irritates you more than anything. Growling softly in your throat, you wind your captured arm with enough force to wrench it free, grip the sword handle, and, before Ursul can react, you catch the yellow nautilus shell tied around his neck with the sharpened side and imply a threat to pull.
