Page 34 of Stealing the Merman

“Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

Darin glanced around the cave. Everyone was busy eating or making out; no one was paying Finn and him any mind.

“It’s the toy,” Darin said, his voice so low, Finn had trouble understanding him. But his words had concern rising in Finn.

“Is it bothering you? I can take it out if—”

“No. God, no, don’t take it out. It’s… Just then it nudged me so good. It felt incredible. Like, one moment I’m casually aroused,” he looked at his hard cock, the ring tight around the base, “and the next the plug hits me in the perfect spot, and I almost come.”

His blush deepened, coloring not only his face but creeping into his ears and onto his chest. Adorable. Finn picked up a piece of fish and fed it to Darin.

“And how’s that a bad thing?” Finn asked as Darin snatched the fish from his fingers, lips closing around them.

Darin chewed and swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’s not, and you know it. God, you’re cheeky. Fishing for compliments, aren’t you? Well, here you have it: thank you for plugging me up and making me come all day. It’s been fantastic.”

Darin picked up another piece of food, and Finn watched for that tell-tale contortion of his face when the plug shifted and prodded him. It came when Darin sat back. Finn tried to keep his self-satisfaction off his face, but the corners of his mouth pulled up when Darin’s eyelids lowered and his brow furrowed as pleasure hit him.

Inside Finn, desire burned bright as a flame. He kissed Darin’s cheek. “I’m happy you’re here.”

“Me too.”

They spent the rest of the evening in each other’s arms, Finn exhausting Darin until, after his last orgasm, he dozed off the moment his cock slipped from Finn’s mouth.

Another day of swimming and splashing in the sun followed. In the afternoon, they sat at a beach where Finn was gutting fish for dinner while Darin threaded cowrie shells onto two pieces of string he’d taken from his clothing.

Waves rolled onto the golden sand, the spray sprinkling Finn’s fishtail. The sun stood high in the sky, and the trees of the jungle at the back of the beach were too far away to provide shade, but Finn enjoyed the warm rays on his skin, and so did Darin, who seemed absorbed in his work, his brow pinched in concentration.

Darin opened his mouth with a sharp intake of breath, as if to speak, but then remained silent. Finn wondered but didn’t say anything, returning to his task. When Darin sucked in air again, Finn had to ask.

“What’s on your mind?”

Darin shrugged. “Not much. Just… I’ve been thinking. I don’t know if I should ask you, but I want to.”

“Ask me what?” Finn didn’t have the faintest idea what this could be about.

“About Conall.”

“Oh.”

Conall’s presence had sat between them since Darin showed up. Finn hadn’t thought there was anything to talk about.

“Yes,” Darin said. He took another cowrie shell, threaded the first string through the shell’s natural opening that ran along its length. He turned the shell and pulled the second string through it from the other side. “You know him.”

“Right. We met a long time ago when I found him stranded on a sandbank and took him to an island to save him.”

Darin’s head shot up. “What?”

“He wasn’t in good shape when I picked him up.”

Darin snorted. “Conall never mentioned this.” He pushed the shell along the strings to join the others and tied a knot to keep it in place, using more force than necessary. “There’s a lot he didn’t mention. Come to think of it, I barely knew him.”

It was a sore subject for Darin. Finn needed to tread carefully. “You and Conall—”

“Yes. We fucked.”

Darin’s voice was harsh and bitter. Finn waited for the knife of jealousy to twist in his guts, but it didn’t come. Instead, he felt as if he’d found a bird with a broken wing, and the compulsion to mend it flooded him.

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