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On the second night, after a long day of adventure, after coming within a pipefish's breadth of getting true love's kiss and then getting toppled into the water instead, after making it back to the castle and having yet another bath... Ariel can't sleep.
Part of her is exhausted. Her legs and back are sore from walking and just from holding herself upright all day in the unbuoyant air. But even as she lies in the wonderfully soft and restful bed, her heart won't stop racing. Nervous excitement thrums through her body—her new body—touching places she's never felt before.
She was so close. So close to feeling Eric's sweet lips against hers. She is certain now that it's really going to happen (not that she could have admitted before that she had doubts) and she feels like she can't wait another minute.
It's dark except for the faint, cloudy moonlight through the window, and so quiet with nobody here, not even Sebastian. Where did he run off to, anyway? No matter. The sheets rustle as she shifts beneath them. She's still learning how to arrange her legs so that they're comfortable, and she moves them slowly, unsure of how it's supposed to feel for a human to lie down. Last night she was so tired that she fell asleep right away, but now...
She shifts herself to the side a bit, twisting, and her legs just so happen to press together. She gasps—what was that? She isn't exactly sure what she did to make that sudden thrilling tingle shoot up through her stomach, but she is very sure she wants to make it happen again. Her lips are parted and her eyes are wide in the darkness as she moves again, carefully, experimenting. Was it the pressure on her hip that felt so funny, or maybe that her knees touched? No, not that.
In a minute, she figures it out: She squeezes her thighs together, nice and firmly this time, and lets out a hoarse, shuddery, not-quite-sound of raw surprise as the sensation shivers up through her body, making her toes curl.
In awe at this discovery and eager to investigate, Ariel sits up and throws off her sheets, pulls up her nightgown to take a look down there. She can't see much in the dark and doesn't even think to light a candle (having forgotten for the moment that they exist) but she prods with her fingertips along her inner thighs, trying to find the source of those thrilling feelings. Her skin is sensitive there, and she starts to touch and stroke more gently. Even her own touch is a little ticklish on her brand new skin, and she breathes a tiny giggle. Smiling, she enjoys a certain sense of vindicated pride that legs aren't just good, they actually feel good too.
Still, that feeling isn't what she's looking for. The real revelation comes soon after, as she explores further up her thighs, up to the place where they meet. She doesn't know what this is, and can't really see, no matter how she spreads her legs and cranes down to look. Cautiously, she walks her fingertips into the dark unknown—and gasps in surprise to find it wet.
Humans always cover this part of themselves up, she's noticed, so she's never known what lay beneath. It makes some kind of wordless sense to her that this is what they're hiding: the part of them that's wet. There's nothing humans fear more than deep waters.
Barely breathing, Ariel slowly maps out this small, uncharted sea between her legs. She learns there are slopes and ridges, heights and depths, just as one would expect. It's tropically warm, and when she briefly brings her fingers to her lips to get a taste, she finds it comfortingly salty.
She's so raptly fascinated by the structure, it takes a minute for her to begin again to register the sensations. It's so sensitive—almost too sensitive in some places, like when she reaches the top and her whole body jumps with the electric-eel zing she finds there. She doesn't understand yet what it's all supposed to be for (merfolk bodies work in other ways) and the not-knowing only makes it all the more exciting. Nobody is here to tell her the names or the reasons for anything right now, so it's entirely hers to explore.
It's for her to draw her finger smoothly up and down in between the ridges and to learn how different kinds of pressure feel, and the different pleasures she can spark. It's for her to probe the entrance of the cavern where the wetness comes from, only as deep as it's comfortable. It's for her to circle around that almost-too-sensitive spot that keeps drawing her back to it like an irresistible enchantment, and to make a diligent study of how much is too much. She finds that the more she touches, the more she wants to touch—like the way it feels when you like someone and just want to be close to them all the time. This is like feeling that way about herself, and it utterly delights her.
She lets herself flop back onto her pillows, writhing in pleasure as she swims about in her own personal sea. She finds herself wishing badly that Eric were here—not that she knows exactly what she wants him to do (though she feels instinctively sure that there's something), but she wants him to see. To see her, to know that her body can do this, to be impressed by how quickly she's learning. To take joy in her pleasure. She imagines him seeing her this way and smiling his broad, beautiful smile.
Those thoughts make her want to touch even more, to press and rub and arch up into her own hand. She's surprised at how her heart pounds and her breath quickens, at the sounds she's making, at the heat that grows beneath her skin. And there's something else growing too, a feeling that she doesn't recognize. It's getting bigger and bigger, and it feels so exciting and maybe a little scary. But Ariel's never been one to back down from something that scares her and she's not about to start now.
For a minute she almost gets stuck, feeling absolutely certain that something's supposed to happen but not sure exactly how to get there (wherever there is). Her body is crying out for more, but she doesn't know what kind of more to give it. Her breath hitches, she twists, she squirms in frustration.
But she doesn't give up. The solution is obvious as soon as she thinks of it: She squeezes her thighs together tightly, just like she did when this started. And oh, it's so good, so satisfying, just exactly what she needs. She still has her hand down there, still rubbing, still putting the pressure where she needs it, and she wrings her thighs hard around it, and the feeling of her legs working over and over to do that pushes her up—and up—and up—until—
Ariel lets out a long, voiceless, shaky cry as ecstasy rushes over her like a tidal wave, roaring in her ears and filling her with absolute joy. It seems to last and last, and when it finally runs down to a trickle and drips to a stop, it leaves her so giddily exhilarated that she bursts out in laughter, almost unaware that it's silent. Though it can't be heard, she still laughs in surprise, in pleasure, so delighted with herself that she's done this—that she's become who she wants to be, and that this is what it feels like.
She lazes there for a while, dazed and grinning. The cool night breeze through the window feels wonderful on her overheated skin. At last she pulls her hand free and tastes the delicious salt again on her fingers. Finally calm and sleepy now, she tugs the sheet back over herself and curls up on her side, more confident now that she knows how to rest the human way. She drifts off contentedly, smiling to herself about the kiss she's sure to get tomorrow.