A belated birthday gift for thestarlitrose. Enjoy your omegaverse-primitive tribeswoman Molly-shapeshifting River God Sherlock smutty eventual parentlock with a side of (attempted) human sacrifice!
DISCLAIMER: I have been accused of plagarism by an anon "reviewer" (shown below). I am hereby declaring and announcing that I have never read nor even heard of the manga described below. I wrote this entire story in less than 2 days, in 2 sittings, right before posting, and any similarities are strictly coincidental.
From: Me (Guest)
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Me:You should put a disclaimer, as you have obviously borrowed the title and many details of the plot from the manga 'Bride of the Water God'. That's plagiarism.
The River God was angry, so the Wise Woman announced to the tribe as they huddled on a hilltop, far from the raging waters that had cascaded over their banks in the wake of a series of storms the likes of which no one living had ever seen. The River God required a sacrifice, she said; the waters needed the blood and body of the Abomination that the tribe had unknowingly fostered in its midst, else they would never return to their banks.
All eyes turned to Molly, and she bowed her head in shame. She was well past her sixteenth year, an Omega born and recognized by scent and the physical signs common to all Omegas – all but one. She'd never fallen into Heat, never found an Alpha to Bond to, in their tribe or in any of the others with whom they traded and occasionally clashed. And an Omega female who could not bear a child was a burden and a shame to both family and tribe. She had been tolerated when the times were good and there was enough food to go around, but now that the River God had shown his temper, the Wise Woman interpreted the signs and found no one to disagree with her, not even Molly's grieving parents.
They prepared her, as best they could with their village destroyed and the muddy waters of the river covering the fields holding their crops; her mother and sisters – all Omegas, all fully ripened with their first Heats long past them and many children birthed to their Bonded Alphas – bathed her in the cleanest water they could find, and wove what scarce blooms there were into her hair, and robed her in the softest, whitest gown the tribe still owned. There was no concerns about wasting that particular resource, as Molly would be led to the place of sacrifice – a cliff overlooking the river – where the gown would be removed, heavy stones fastened to her wrists and ankles, and the four strongest Alpha males would lift her into the air and throw her into the swollen, raging currents to meet her doom.
She made no protests; what could she say, after all, to stay her fate? It had been decided, decreed by the Wise Woman and agreed upon by the Council of Alphas, males and females alike, with no dissension. If she did try to flee or fight, it would bring shame to her family, and the River God might need additional appeasing – one of her younger nieces or nephews might be forced to join her, and Molly would never allow that to happen.
No tears ran from her eyes as she stood on the cliff's edge at the appointed hour, although she could hear the stifled sobs from her mother and father as they mourned her loss. She stood stoically, eyes forward, only half-listening to the chants flowing from the throats of the Wise Woman and her acolyte. She did shrink back when the weights were brought forth, but held out her wrists and spread her legs as her gown was removed in full sight of the entire tribe; after all, what need did a dead woman, an Abomination in the sight of the Gods, have for modesty?
She kept her eyes wide open and focused on nothing until she was firmly grasped and lifted into the air; only then did she allow her despair to overwhelm her and close them as tightly shut as she could. She could feel the tears gathering, but was proud of herself for holding them back until the only one who would be able to see them would be the River God Himself, mingling with the waters of his realm until all life had vanished from her body.
She cried out as her body slammed into the raging waters, then closed her mouth tightly to try to stave off the inevitable; she knew how horrible a death by drowning could be, had witnessed such deaths from an early age since her Beta father was the tribe's Deathwatcher, and despaired to think of such a fate for herself. She prayed that she might hit her head and sink into unconsciousness before the water filled her nose and mouth and entered her lungs, but felt no hope that her prayers would be answered; after all, she was an Abomination, unclean, unworthy of remaining alive, useful only to appease the appetites of the River God.
The sense of something touching her body brought a renewed panic to her mind; thus far the sheer speed of the currents had kept her weighted form from sinking to the bottom, but if she were caught on something, a snag of tree limbs or the dead body of a drowned animal, then she would meet her end that much sooner. It was foolish to wish to cling to life knowing how brief any such reprieve would be, but she found herself unable to simply accept her fate, and cried out before the insistent tugging dragged her beneath the water's surface. The shock of the water on her face was too much for her; she fell into unconsciousness, her last thought being that at least she wouldn't suffer very much.
Molly awoke, coughing and retching, to find herself on a stone ledge just above the water's surface, inside a low-roofed cave. She could see, if only barely, as the opening of the cave allowed the sun's weak, late-afternoon rays to enter. When she tried to sit up, however, she was pressed back onto the ground by a pair of firm hands on her shoulders. "Don't," said a gravelly, masculine voice, and she turned her head to see who had spoken, whose hands were still resting on her body.
She gave a soft gasp as she beheld the most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and wondered if she were still unconscious and perhaps dreaming, or having a vision of the Afterlife. Or was he Death, come to guide her to whatever fate awaited her soul? He was pale, his flesh smooth and unmarked, his cheekbones sharp and well defined, his eyes an incandescent blue-green so different from the brown that she and her entire tribe bore. His hair was a dark mass of curls and ringlets, shiny and wet, and his body…she gasped again, and felt a flush rising to her cheeks as she realized he was entirely naked, his body almost hairless save for a gingery patch on his chest and nestling between his legs.
He was also clearly an Alpha; she could smell it on him, but she could also see it in the length of his member, even soft and at rest. She sighed, wishing he showed some signs of attraction to her, so she could act on her own desires to thank him for rescuing her, then chastised herself for such inappropriate thoughts. "Thank you," she said, still blushing, feeling the heat stealing down her chest and turning her head aside in embarrassment. "For saving me. But you shouldn't have; I am meant for the River God, and if I am stolen from him, then my tribe might suffer his wrath."
Deep, rich laughter poured from the stranger's throat, and Molly stared, wide-eyed, wondering if she'd been rescued by a madman. A madman who had at least removed the weights from her wrists and ankles, she belatedly noticed. One who had risked himself to save her. "Don't worry, little one," he said, his voice even deeper than before as he rose to his knees and gazed down at her through eyes suddenly turned as black as a starless night. "The River God has accepted you."
Before Molly's wondering eyes, he shimmered and shifted form, into that of a giant River Otter; she gasped and turned her head, knowing that one should never look directly at a God. Then she heard his laughter again, and felt the touch of his hand – webbed, she noted as she stole a glance at his fingers – on her shoulder. "Do not fear to look upon me, little one," he said. "Or to ask my name, as I now ask you for yours."
She dared to gaze upon him again, but no higher than his lush, plump lips. "I'm Molly," she said after licking her lips nervously. "Of the Hooper Tribe…"
"No," he contradicted her, moving to kneel over her reclining form. He reached out and traced the curves of her face with the tips of his fingers, and she wondered at the delicate webbing between them. "No longer of the Hooper Tribe. They rejected you, offered you to me for no reason other than their own selfishness and fear." At her questioning look, he huffed and explained, "The floodwaters rise like this every five hundred years; if the tribes took care to pass down such information, to raise their villages further from the banks, then it wouldn't be such a calamity."
"Can't you just stop it from happening?" Molly asked, then bit her lip and waited for the explosion of anger she was sure to receive for daring to question the River God.
No explosion followed, no show of temper. He merely shrugged and responded, "It's necessary to the health of both the River and the Earth."
"Oh," was all Molly could bring herself to say, but those beautiful lips curved in a smile before he closed the slight distance between them, pressing his mouth against hers in a kiss that stole her breath more effectively than the river waters had.
"And have you a question for me?" he prompted when the kiss ended.
Molly stared up at him blankly, her lips still burning from that kiss, then remembered what they'd been speaking of. "Oh, your name, may I have it?" she asked timidly.
"Sherlock," he replied. "Of the Holmes Tribe of River Guardians – or Gods, as you humans would call us," he added with a hint of distaste. "A tribe to which you now belong."
His scent, already rich and heady, seemed to increase tenfold, and Molly found herself drinking it in, inhaling deeply as a spreading warmth infused her body. It was almost as if she had been immersed in a river of fire rather than water, and she realized with a sense of wonder that her long-delayed first Heat was finally upon her.
"Their loss is my gain," he murmured, nostrils flaring as he inhaled deeply of her rapidly-altering scent. He lay his body over hers, and she braced herself for pain, knowing the battering she'd received after being tossed into the river, wondering that she felt none. "I have healed you, little one. I would not take you as my consort if that ability had no effect on you."
Molly's brow furrowed in confusion, and he brushed those long, webbed fingers along her cheek again, sweeping her hair from her brow. "My people can heal only those of their own kind – or those who can become such. Not every human is worthy, you see, but the fact that I could heal you so easily is proof that you belong with me. Although your tribe called you an Abomination, the truth is that you would never go into Heat for any mere human Alpha. Only for one of my kind. Only," he concluded as his voice deepened further, "for me." Then he claimed her mouth in another kiss, and this time Molly found the courage to wrap her arms around him, winding her fingers through his damp curls and marveling at the taste and feel of him against her body.
She cried out softly when she felt his fingers brushing against her sex, slick with the juices virtually pouring from her body, and cried out again when he placed his mouth there, so eagerly lapping up the signs of her arousal. A sensation like none she'd ever experienced swept over her body, emanating from that point and seeming to set her already blazing body further aflame. She reached out blindly, pulling his mouth up to hers, tasting herself on his lips and feeling no shame at the forbidden act, only pleasure, pure and simple.
Emboldened, she reached down and stroked her fingers along his manhood; although she'd seen naked men many times, even naked Alphas, none could compare to her lover, the River God named Sherlock who had claimed her as his own. She heard him groan with his own pleasure as she rubbed her thumb questioningly over the moisture seeping from his tip, then gasped as he suddenly rolled them so they were in the water, his back against the stone ledge where they'd just rested, his arms and the water holding her up. "I will take you in the manner of your own people later," he growled as he guided her so that her thighs rested against his hips.
Molly nodded, bracing herself with her hands on his shoulders, so broad in comparison to his hips; a true swimmer's body, like so many of her tribesmen – former tribesmen, she corrected herself, promptly forgetting all about them as soon as she felt the blunt head of Sherlock's shaft against her still-slick opening.
He used one hand to guide himself, the other lifting her easily from its place on her left hip, angling her so he could more easily thrust himself into her. She knew that Beta females often had pain and even bleeding with their first time with a man, but unless the Alpha was in a mindless rut or a violent man, Omegas rarely faced such discomfort their first time. And whatever else he was, no matter how eager he was for her, Sherlock had already shown that he was no violent brute, uncaring of his partner's comfort. He eased into her slowly, both hands anchored on her hips, urging her to move against him, and dipping his head down to bite gently at her throat when she tilted her head, baring it for him as he fully sheathed himself inside her.
She felt him shifting his body, her mind swiftly drowning in the haze of her Heat as her Alpha gripped her thighs; she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips and he grunted as the movement helped him dive deeper into her body. Then they were moving in tandem, her fingers digging into his shoulders, the set of his teeth on her throat becoming sharper as she felt herself once again on the edge of falling over that delicious cliff of pleasure he'd already brought her to with his mouth. Before she could reach that plateau, however, she felt his thrusts growing shallower as his Knot began to form; soon he would force it inside her body, tying them together for a span of time as his seed continued to pour into her. It was a sensation she'd never experienced nor understood even when her sisters and other Omegas tried to explain it to her, but now…ah, now, it was so clear. It was everything she'd ever wanted; she screamed her completion as she felt him reaching his own, his knot stretching and filling her so beautifully she thought she could die right now and never be happier.
He held her tightly in his arms, his mouth still warm against her throat; when she could think clearly again, at least until the next time he brought her over that cliff, she raised her head timidly to look him in the eyes. "Will you not Bond with me?"
He shook his head, but took her chin when she tried to turn her face from his, forcing her to continue to meet his gaze. "Not this time, little one," he said softly. "Not until you are ripe with our first child, your belly showing proof of our compatibility. It is the way of my people," he explained as she wrinkled her brow in confusion. "But I doubt very much that it will be an issue." Then he kissed her, a sweet kiss that became passionate as she felt him pulsing deep within her, more of his hot seed pouring into her womb and carrying her over the cliff for a third time. She cried out softly against his lips, her fingers once again tangled in his curls, and felt contentment at the confidence in his voice as he reassured her.
Six months later, when he brought her to a convocation of his people, her rounded belly proudly displayed to prove that his young rested safely within her womb, she was declared his mate, and he Bonded with her to the cheers and ululations of the other River Guardians in their many forms. After their first set of twins were born, he gave her a second Mark, one that would allow her to transform into a great River Otter just as he and their children could, and she felt a freedom and happiness that would remain with her the rest of her long, long life.