Page 41 of Stealing the Merman

“Are you all right?” Conall asked.

“Yes,” Finn breathed and grabbed the hollows of his knees to pull his legs up and give Conall full access. “Touch me. Please.”

Conall trailed his fingertip up and down his crack, flicking his rim in passing. The nudges drove Finn wild. Every one of them set his nerve endings on fire. His body was begging for more.

Finn pushed out, and when Conall slid over him, his fingertip caught on the little muscle. The hint of pressure was exquisite, and Conall held it for a moment before he pushed up, opening Finn from the other side. Heat rushed into Finn’s body, followed by a shiver of goosebumps racing over his flesh. He moaned softly, and his balls lifted. His pucker was sensitive, more than a human’s, that much he could tell. Urgency rose at the base of his spine.

Finn’s ring relaxed as Conall applied gentle pressure, in one direction after the other until his virgin hole slackened.

“Are you ready for more?” Conall asked, circling his entrance.

Finn didn’t follow. His mind overloaded with the tender touches to his opening. He was raw, acutely aware of the tiniest touch. Another circle. His balls slapped up to his body, his insides tensed and before Finn comprehended what was happening, orgasm swept him away like a tidal wave.

He came in hard and fast spurts onto his stomach. Finn was blind and deaf, solely focused on his hole as it twitched against the finger pad stroking him. His insides clenched and unclenched. He screamed and begged for more as his body exploded in round after round of contractions.

Conall’s finger inched into his coming hole. “Fuck, you’re wet!” Conall crooked his finger, tickling Finn’s inner skin past the entrance. If Finn thought he’d experienced the heights of lust, he was being proven wrong fast. Pleasure slammed into him, and he writhed in the swaying hammock, Conall’s firm hold on his hip the only thing steadying him.

“Your hole is soaking wet.” Conall probed his channel. “You’re leaking. What the heck. I can’t wait to sink into you.”

Finn keened at those last words, his insides convulsing faster at the promise of Conall entering him. He couldn’t wait; he wanted him now.

“Finn,” he heard Conall’s voice, as if through a dense fog. “Fuck, what’s in that potion? I’ve barely touched you.”

“More,” Finn panted, his hole seizing in climax and yet begging for full invasion.

Was this what humans felt when they came? Could it be this intense? Or was this a lifetime of sexual frustration unloading in one violent eruption?

He didn’t know or care because Conall’s finger was slipping deeper, to the second knuckle, then deeper again. Finn’s inner muscles clasped the intruding digit, tightening around it. That pressed it firmer to Finn’s walls, which were overwhelmed by Conall’s touch.

Was the anus this sensitive? Humans didn’t come from a few rubs of a finger. His merman hole had to be lined with hypersensitive tissue.

His thoughts were washed away with the next waves, his insides undulating around the digit. His cock was coming dry, jerking in the air, having spent all his cum. It didn’t matter. All he wanted was more.

When Conall pulled out, Finn’s contractions slowed, and he let out a frustrated whine. He needed something inside him. Two fingertips pushing against his opening silenced the complaints on Finn’s tongue. He bore down, and the digits glided into his pulsing tunnel. Conall dragged them in and out in a lazy rhythm, drawing them all over Finn’s purring nerve endings.

Finn never stopped coming, every convulsion worshiping Conall. And then, when he was absolutely, irrefutably sure this was the best he could feel, Conall plunged his fingers in to the hilt, crooked them and dragged them over his prostate.

Finn’s body tensed until it was taut like a high-strung bow and snapped. Every last one of his muscles burst into rampant contractions. A panicked shriek flew from his lips as the devastating force of his orgasm tore through him, body and soul. It shattered something inside him, broke him and put him back together.

He trashed, rocking the hammock. Were Conall a weaker man, he wouldn’t have been able to control him. But Conall, with his burly frame of solid muscle, was a man cast from steel. His iron grip on Finn’s hip and his commanding voice restrained Finn despite the maddening pleasure. “Keep still,” he growled, and Finn came all the harder as he obeyed, thriving in the lust of submission.

Forbidden from moving, his body seized in orgasmic spasms, his pent-up energy unloading in the violent jerks of his cock and the convulsions of his inner muscles. Conall spurred him on with repeated nudges to his gland, each pulling another mind-numbing orgasm from him.

Conall scissored his fingers, opening him by spreading his wet, trembling walls. Finn couldn’t take the teasing any longer. He needed Conall to give him everything.

“Fuck me!” Finn demanded.

“You’re too tight, I need to—”

“Nghhh, fuck. Now. Need you… now. Ram your fucking cock into me. P-Please… Conall…”

Finn throbbed around Conall’s fingers as if his body wanted to impress the urgency on him. Conall’s self-control snapped like an overstretched piece of leather. He tore his breeches open and positioned himself at Finn’s quivering entrance.

Finn moaned when Conall’s gloriously thick head connected with his pucker. He bore down, as much as his pulsing body would let him, and Conall pressed into the resistance.

A pearl of sweat ran down Conall’s temple, his brow scrunched in concentration as he guided his cock to Finn’s entrance. Finn did his best to relax his anal muscle, to let him in. Finally, when Conall brushed his glans over him, Finn’s ring slackened. Conall’s crown conquered the last of his resistance and slid in.

The bulbous head stretched Finn wide open. Conall was big. Monstrous. Finn’s sphincter quaked around the intrusion. Conall was going to impale him. The thought set off a new wave of contractions.

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