Page 43 of Stealing the Merman

“I’m telling you,” one of them, a bald man with a plump figure, said, “they’re throwing orgies.”

“It could be old sailors spinning yarn,” the other man, younger and with a pimple blossoming on his nose, replied.

“Nah. The governor arrested a bunch of pirates the navy caught off the eastern coast, and they spilled the tale. Some mad pirate captain heard of this new potion the sea witch brews. It gives mermen legs. Legs and a long, beautiful cock.” The men roared in laughter.

But Darin froze. A potion for mermen? It could be nothing but a tale, but Finn had mentioned there was a sea witch in Puerto Rico, and a powerful one, if those enchanted toys were anything to go by. His hole clenched sadly at the memory and its empty state.

“The story goes like this: The pirates sail for Culebra although they’ve avoided those waters for ten years,” the bald man said. “They rounded up the mermen and kidnapped them. Took them to that damn pirate haven in Vieques. Used to be a reputable place, that island, before it fell into pirate hands. They had a stunning town hall, all marble and neoclassical pillars, I tell you that. And now,” the man leaned forward and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “the pirates are using that grand place to fuck those mermen into tomorrow.”

“Wicked.”

“They tie up the mermen and fuck them one after the other, cycling through them, again and again, dumping their cum in those gorgeous bodies. And the mermen, being the dirty sluts that they are, love every minute of it. Thanks to the potion, they come and come and come until the pirates get tired and are done with them for the day.”

Darin’s blood ran cold. If half of this was true, someone had Finn. Some ugly pirate was putting his filthy hands on him and was giving Finn the pleasure Darin hadn’t been able to. Worry mixed with jealousy, mixed with fear. He had to get to Vieques.

He’d thought his days in the company of pirates were over, but if he had to sail for Vieques to save Finn from whoever had claimed him, he’d do it.

That was the last time Darin got drunk in a tavern. He slept it off, then rented a horse and rode along a narrow trail through the jungle toward Puerto Rico’s eastern coast. There, he persuaded local fishermen to take him to Vieques and paid them a whole escudo. It was more than generous for the fifteen-mile journey and fair payment considering they had to enter waters rife with pirates.

The fishermen dropped him off a few miles from the main port on the northern coast of Vieques. Darin followed the shore toward Vieques Town, at times carving his path through the jungle with his saber.

The stench of urine, smoke and animal cadavers announced the town’s outskirts. Darin snuck through the maze of garbage-filled alleys lined on both sides by musty shacks. His presence drew no attention—he’d been a pirate long enough to fit in, and his appearance did the rest—scar across the cheek, hoop earring, saber and two flintlock pistols, he was the platonic ideal of a pirate.

Toward the center, the narrow alleys and run-down shacks gave way to open squares and stone buildings. This was a far nicer part of the town. Darin had gotten a vague description of the town hall and had been told the building was impossible to miss.

Before Vieques was claimed by pirates, a Spanish community had thrived on this island. Some mayor with delusions of grandeur commissioned the town hall, a disproportionately palatial building at the head of the main square. A pediment was carried by neoclassical pillars, behind which the imposing two-winged door of ornamented cast-iron towered. Darin located the town hall immediately. It stood in comical contrast to the rest of the far smaller buildings around the square, which lay in various states of disrepair.

Darin wasn’t going to march through the town hall’s main entrance. The building was infested with dangerous pirates, so his first step was to collect information by scouting the premises and its entry points. Luckily for him, the town hall sported several glassless windows, one just around the corner from the dramatic entrance.

Darin climbed through it and crept along a long dark hallway toward the entrance hall. The closer he got, the louder the grunts and moans grew. The sound of flesh slapping flesh echoed through the building. So the story from the tavern was true.

He approached the end of the hallway where, around the corner, it unfurled into the wide-open space of the foyer. Darin hid in the shadows as he shuffled along the wall until he was at the edge and able to peek into the hall.

The sight that greeted him took his breath away. Pillars propped up the high ceiling. The walls were clad in marble and so was the floor across which cotton-stuffed mattresses had been spread. And on those, the orgy was happening.

Even without their fishtails, the mermen were easy to distinguish from the pirates. The latter came in all shapes and sizes, their skin was marred with scars, their hair wild and their movements rough. Everything about them stood in contrast to the lithe mermen. Merman skin was unblemished and luminous. Their hair was lustrous, and they moved like cats, lissome and deft. The mermen’s sensual aura was undeniable.

The hall was a jumble of writhing bodies and echoing groans. Pirates and mermen had coupled off, but here and there groups had come together in a tangle of limbs. One dark-skinned merman lay on a mattress with his legs in the air, a pirate pounding him. The merman was thrashing in the clutches of orgasm, his springy curls dancing across the mattress as he whipped his head from side to side, while the man thrust into him until he came with a shout. He climbed off the merman only to be replaced by another pirate, who eagerly sank between the merman’s spread thighs. The merman’s orgasm never ebbed off, and soon, a queue of five or six pirates keen to prolong his pleasure formed.

Darin had to find Finn. The thought of strangers cycling through him sickened him. He didn’t care what other mermen did, but Finn was a different story. Darin’s eyes glided over the couples and groups, trying to spot that shock of golden curls.

He came up short. He searched again, cataloging the faces visible from his vantage point. Nothing.

Then his gaze landed on the grand, bifurcated staircase leading up to the town hall’s upper floor. A single, wide set of stairs led up to an imposing landing, from which two separate staircases rose upward, one to the left and one to the right, like an eagle spreading its wings. And on that landing, raised like on a dais for all to see, lay a mattress upon which Finn was sprawled on his back as Conall thrust into him.

Darin’s breath hitched. Of all the things he’d expected or hoped to see, this wasn’t one of them.Some mad pirate captain, the man in the tavern had said, and Darin knew beyond the shadow of a doubt who he’d meant.

And by god, Conall was gorgeous. His mane was a rich brown laced with gold and more stunning than Darin remembered. A deep tan darkened his skin, which disappeared into the dark blue breeches unbuttoned for sex. His muscles bulged and flexed as he worked Finn over.

Finn moaned, the beautiful, passionate sound carrying across the hall like the mermen’s song over water. It called Darin. Finn’s sandy blond waves spilled onto the mattress. His new, gorgeous legs bracketed Conall’s hips. Legs that were long and clad in golden skin. Darin was beyond pleased for Finn. If only his legs wouldn’t obstruct the view of another addition to his body.

Finn tangled a hand in Conall’s mane and pulled him down for a kiss. Darin gulped in air, pulse racing. He should’ve been green with jealousy, but the sight made his heart sing. Their lips met, brushing over each other. Conall’s tongue slipped into Finn’s mouth, and Darin grabbed at the wall as he threatened to faint in pleasure.

Together, Conall and Finn were an arresting sight. They moved in perfect harmony. Conall snapping his hips as he nailed Finn was mesmerizing, as was their kiss and the pretty noises tumbling from Finn’s lips.

Darin should’ve turned and left. Finn was in good hands; he was with Conall and bathing in bliss. They didn’t need him. Heck, he shouldn’t be watching them, regardless that they’d put themselves on display. That sight wasn’t meant for him.

Darin should’ve run, run as fast as he could. If Conall saw him in Vieques or anywhere near Finn, he’d rip him apart. Tear his head off with his bare hands. God knew Conall had the strength to do it.

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