Page 40 of Stealing the Merman

“You’re beautiful,” Conall said. He rested his hand on Finn’s thigh and caressed it, wandering up and down, over his knee to his calf and back. The touch to his legs felt different than that to his fishtail, skin being more sensitive than scales. “You’re perfect, whether you have a fishtail or legs.”

Around them, the other mermen were at various stages with their potions. Some were eyeing the vials skeptically, while others’ faces were contorted with the pain of shifting. And finally, some mermen had fully transformed, and pirates moved between their new legs, spreading them wide.

Mermen were used to seducing men in groups and knew no shame. And the pirates, confronted with the world’s most appealing creatures, couldn’t get their breeches off fast enough, not caring who saw them when they sank between those thighs.

Zade was there too, shaking his head as he refused the potion. Finn was surprised that he turned down the opportunity to experience pleasure, but then he recalled how much Zade missed Luis. Zade showed no interest in the men around him.

Conall’s sensual touch pulled his attention away, and Finn’s hands joined Conall’s in running over his legs, marveling at their shape.

“Wrap your hand around me,” Finn said.

He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of sensations when Conall’s long, calloused fingers curled around his shaft. Every little touch sent sparks up his spine, and he panted as his mind adjusted to a myriad of new impressions. Conall’s callouses added to the intensity. How would they feel sliding over his engorged flesh?

Conall’s grip firmed, and he gave Finn a single stroke. Finn’s entire being rushed into Conall’s hand as he fisted his length. Tingles darted through his body and bloomed between his shoulders, on his scalp, in his balls.

It was overwhelming. Finn had imagined what it would be like, to have a cock, to be touched, but his mind hadn’t been able to conjure the pleasure it’d bring.

Conall’s body was hot underneath him, even through the layers of clothing he was wearing—far too many in Finn’s opinion. If Conall took them off… Finn imagined his naked body all over him. His erection twitched at the image.

Finn grabbed at the laces holding Conall’s shirt together and unfastened the first couple with nimble fingers. They came undone, but then Conall’s hand was gone from his cock and enveloped Finn’s fingers.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Conall said. The words could’ve been harsh, but Conall spoke them in a soft, quiet tone, free of the danger this kind of man normally posed.

Finn’s memory flashed to when he’d found Conall on the sandbank. He’d worn nothing but breeches. Later, when they explored intimacy, Conall had unbuttoned the fly, but the breeches never came off.

“Why?” Finn asked. He turned toward Conall, his face impossibly close.

“Not today.”

“You didn’t wear a shirt last time, on the island.”

Conall flinched. It was barely noticeable, a twitch of his face, but Finn saw it. What was that about? Conall’s hold on his fingers loosened, and his thumb rubbed the back of his hand in circles. Finn regretted his words immediately. He should’ve held his tongue and not ruined the moment. He cringed at his silliness. Conall kissed him, calming his concerns though not wiping them away.

“You’re right,” Conall said. “The shirt can come off.”

Was he worried because of the men surrounding them? But it wasn’t unusual for pirates to walk about deck bare-chested. Before Finn could think about it, Conall had untied the laces and pulled off the garment.

His body was a canvas of hard muscles and silver scars, reminders of stab wounds and deep cuts. Old sunburn scars marked his shoulders. They had to be from when he was stranded on the sandbank. Finn had forgotten how bad the burns had been, but seeing the remains of the damage a year and a half later was sobering. Was Conall worried about burning again? Was that why he’d wanted to keep his shirt on? But they were in the shade and the deep tan of his torso suggested he exposed his skin to the sun regularly.

Conall’s muscles rippled as he moved, and Finn found it difficult to contemplate anything at their sight. He rested a flat hand on Conall’s chest, then let it wander over his firm pecs and the relief of his abs. The subtle in and out of Conall’s breathing pat against his palm, and so did his heartbeat.

Conall scooped him up in his arms and got to his feet. Finn stared at the deck beneath, considering. “Let me stand.”

“Are you sure?”

Finn nodded. “Hold me, please. I want to try.”

Conall lowered him until he could reach the ground. The balls of his feet connected with the deck, and he skidded. Conall’s strong arms wrapped around him, steadying him. He tried again, clasping Conall’s upper arms. But his knees buckled, his legs new and unaccustomed to carrying his weight. Conall caught him and held him to his front. Finn’s naked cock pressed into his thigh, and waves of desire washed over him. He rolled his hips, drawing a smug huff from Conall. It was clear he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own yet.

So instead, he climbed Conall like a tree. He closed his legs around Conall’s hips and ground his erection into his abdomen. A moan fell from his lips, and he rutted against him. Conall hummed and walked them over to an empty hammock one of the deckhands had hung between the main mast and the balustrade. Finn craned his neck, eyeing the off-white fabric. He broke out into a grin when he realized it had the perfect height.

Conall sat him in it sideways, Finn’s leg hanging off. Finn leaned back and gazed up through the sails at the patches of blue sky between them. He didn’t know how he’d earned the right to his position, but he was grateful beyond measure he was in it.

Grunts and sighs resounded all around the ship. Some mermen stood spread-eagle against walls, their new legs shaking as pirates took them from behind. Others sat on crates, men sucking them off. And there were those on their backs and those getting fucked suspended in the air, legs wrapped around the waist of a pirate who pounded them with fervor.

Conall stooped over Finn and pushed two fingers to his mouth. Finn parted his lips, gazing up at Conall as his tongue darted out and flicked across the tips. He loved to be exposed like this, on his back, Conall towering over him, in a position of absolute power. He had the potion, which meant Finn would do anything and everything for him. Conall was his path to satisfaction. Finn’s inner muscles strained in excitement, and a trickle of slick wetness seeped out between his cheeks. What was that?

Finn’s legs bracketed Conall’s hips, and he opened his mouth, taking his fingertips inside. He licked and circled them, Conall pushing deeper into his mouth. Once they were dripping, Conall pulled out and set a finger pad on Finn’s entrance. Finn gasped at the touch, the intensity taking him by surprise.

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