"I'm guessing this is the first time the boss decided to give you a 'reward', eh?" the guard asked. Him and the man he was escorting walked with idle purpose past a window that showed the city unfolding underneath them - a mess of neon lights and massive, dancing holograms, a wall of stars underneath the smoggy grey clouds that tended to cover Neo Seattle. The tower was the property of notoriously hard to convict mob boss Dirk Clayton, and rumor had it on the below that if you went all the way to the top, you could see past the dense pollution into the expanse of space, even catch sight of the ringed planet that the moon they were on orbited.

"How'd you guess?" Trace asked. He was a muscular man, tall and toned with a shock of black hair and eyes the color of pine needles.

"You've got it written all over your face." The helmeted guard says, chuckling. "Don't worry - I hear it doesn't bite. Probably." 'It'. That was what the boss called it too. Trace didn't like that. It made it sound like the star of Mr. Clayton's personal, exotic harem was a thing, an animal. Still, he was in no position to refuse - you don't turn down gifts from the sun at the center of Titan's criminal underworld. Even if he opened the door and found himself faced with a cow, he'd have to close his eyes and try.

"This it?"

"You bet, hacker boy. Sometimes I wish they tried to raid this place more. I'd love to get a chance to try 'em out." Somehow, Trace knew that the guard was licking his lips and letting his imagination run wild, simply by the sheer virtue of the sleaze that radiated from under his mask.

As the pressurized gate to the room where 'the main attraction' was opened, the computer specialist gulped. The room was lit with red.

The guard motioned to his clothes. "Here's the changing room - you might want to take those off now, while they're still dry."

"Dry? I don't quite understand." The only response was the door closing, with a muffled 'good luck'. The chamber was lit oddly - a bluish sort of light, giving the whole place a cool tinge. Shucking off his shirt to reveal a figure sculpted by daily visits to the gym, Trace wandered through. Hung on the walls were odd, abstract pieces of art - geometric paintings and sculptures made from bleached driftwood. 

Eventually, he came to the main room: One dominated by a large, circular swimming pool. It was for the most part only knee deep - waist deep at the most. However, as you approached the center, it receded into inky depths. "Is anyone there?" He called out. 

"Just me." A voice answered. It was silky, confident. Trace scanned the room for the source. There was a movement in the water, a ripple beneath the surface followed by the splashing of someone emerging. Trace let out a quick breath when he saw 'it'.

The mysterious 'it' was lean, with milky, smooth skin. Its soft, shimmery hair looked black but was actually dark blue. Its eyes were blue to match, but lighter: The blue of the crashing waves on the shores of an Earth he had only heard rumors of. Most miraculous of all was a tail, halfway between fish and serpent, forming from its legs, beginning at the upper thigh - any less and he might have not been able to draw his eyes away from the merfolk's curved rump. It was nude, the pinnacle of youthful androgyny, and its mischievous smile revealed glinting, pointed teeth.

"Usually, they have their clothes off by this point." It said - he, Trace noted, after a quick glance in between its nascent legs. 'Why did it have to be a boy?' the mafia employee thought. And why wasn't that startling fact ceasing the stiffening in his crotch?
His pants were becoming tight, uncomfortably tight. "Do you not want to come down and... play?" The merboy placed a practiced, sensual stress on the last word.

"Well, you see - um, do you do this often?" The sea creature looked at him curiously, swimming up to the point where he was at the edge of the water. 

"No. Mr. Clayton wants to keep me fresh, you know." Trace found himself being lead into water, soaking his jeans up to slightly past his knees. He found a hand kneading at his groin with eager intent, and let out a small, involuntary sigh. "You have a name?"

"T-Trace."

"I'm Selk. And now that we're on a first-name basis, are you comfortable getting 'intimate'?" Trace knew the word intimate meant those silvery lips around his already hard cock, his hands all over that beautiful alien's skin, and words weren't fast enough or good enough to express the 'yes' he had in him. So he nodded.

With that, his shoes went. Then his socks. Then his pants. He was left, sitting down in the cool water to where it lapped at his nipples, and didn't quite care that all the clothing on his lower body had been cast into a literal abyss. Selk looked with an expression of curious interest at Trace's seven, eager inches under the water. The gills on his tail flapped with delight, and Trace briefly found a moment of clarity to note that it meant the young man wouldn't have to come up from under the water. Then, his member was in Selk's mouth, and clarity gave way to bliss.

The hybrid had an attention to detail, more than any human woman - or the one, much regretted human man - Trace ever had service him. He knew from the start he wouldn't regret this, however. He didn't feel even slightly the fish-persons's razor teeth, only the warmth of his mouth. Selk's tongue lapped up every drop of fluid that welled up to Trace's tip with a primal hunger. One of his hands ran across the hacker's firm muscle, exploring his chest while the other hand was fully focused on caressing the base of his cock and the two, full balls that hung beneath it. 

Trace started to breath faster, in and out. His hand on the merboy's head, which until then had been ruffling its hair, began to tighten, guiding the male up and down on his member. "Soon." He said shakingly. At this, the young creature's hand pushed aside Trace's arm and his lips slid off of him. The alien came to surface, kissing his abs and neck. 

"Now." Selk said. "I don't think you'd want to finish before the main attraction?"

"No - I guess not." To come so close to an explosive climax, only to meet with denial, Trace couldn't keep the disappointment from his voice. When Selk turned around, the disappointment vanished. His butt was like a gift given to the world by God.

"Do you have lube, or -"

"Alien! Don't need any."

"Oh." Trace said, still not sure whether this was a wonderful dream. It wasn't - it was a wonderful reality. It started with him sitting, still. Selk was moving with intent, wrapping his tail around the hacker's leg as he rubbed his rear back and forth against the mobster's quivering penis. He bucked his hips back, grinding against his partner. 'It can't get better than this' Trace thought. Then Selk plunged himself onto his cock, and it got better.

Something about being hilted in another man's ass gave Trace a rush, a sheer feeling of dominance. The merboy would've been happy to ram himself back onto Trace all day long, but the animalistic part of the man that had been awakened by this wouldn't allow such passivity. Trace grabbed the creature's hips.

"Oh yes." Selk said under his breath. "Oh -" Trace began thrusting, pulling him back against him and hitting all the right places. "-Oh." The younger man let out a soft moan, which lead into another. That awesome feeling of warm fullness was a bonus to the waves of ecstasy that came from the increasingly rough fucking he was receiving. Soon, the moans grew louder, quickly giving way to impassioned pleas. "More. Harder - yes!"

Trace put a hand as low on the tail and started sliding it up until he found the part of the merboy he was looking for. Gripping the creature's cock in one hand while savoring the tight, enclosing feeling enveloping his own, he started stroking. 

"God, that's too much." Was all a breathless Selk could get out before his climax gripped him, his cum clouding the water as he seized up, spasming in the grip of the intense, relentless grip of having Trace ram into him. He kept going. This rhythmic pressure pushed Trace past his point of no return, and he picked up his pace, plowing until his pliant partner seemed to run out of moans and coy talk, leaving only delighted gasps. Soon, he let out a low, grunting growl as he shot rope after rope of his sticky seed deep into Selk - who didn't mind in the slightest.

Trace stood there for a while, panting. He was soaked from all the splashing. He glanced at the fishy fellow underneath him, who seemed to be in a mild haze underwater. Reaching down, he lifted him up into his arms. A look of worry crossed the naked hacker's face.

"Um, sorry. Was I too rough?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Oh my God, I-"

"In fact, I'm traumatized. Can you give me some mouth to mouth?" The man let out a relieved gasp, before lifting the young man up to lock lips with him. It wasn't the sensual throes of pleasure, but a flutter in his heart, and sort of warm, soft glow that left him smiling. 

"Can I ask how you came to be here?"

"Does it matter?"

"To me." That wasn't the day Selk would tell him how he ended up as Dirk Clayton's consort. But it was the day that, at hearing that, he wrapped his arms tight around the hacker, hesitant to ever let go. And for him, that was enough.