Page 46 of Stealing the Merman

“I’m sorry, sir,” Darin said nonetheless. He didn’t want to be impolite and displease Conall in their newfound, fragile truce.

“You will be.”

Darin shivered at the promise. He whined when Finn pulled away but swallowed his complaints when a slick fingertip settled on his pucker. It stroked him slowly, letting the intensity build. The caress caused another drop to form at Darin’s tip.

Finn’s finger tapped his rim, testing his resistance. Licking and rubbing into it had loosened Darin, and the tip glided in. His body squeezed the intruding digit.

“You’re so tight,” Finn breathed. His voice was laced with anticipation, and Darin trembled as he thought about what Finn was going to do to him.

“So you haven’t been fucked in a while,” Conall said. He sounded like this piece of information pleased him, though Darin didn’t understand why he’d care. “How long has it been since you’ve had a cock in your little hole?”

Damn. It’d been months since Culebrita. Long, lonely months during which nothing had entered him, and Finn’s digit felt impossibly large as it invaded his unused hole. But it’d been a toy in Culebrita, not a cock. Was he really going to tell Conall the truth?

“Over a year, sir,” Darin said. A sharp intake of air from Conall told him this was not the answer he’d expected. Conall realized what Darin’s statement implied. It had been over twelve months since Conall discharged him fromThe Pillaging Seas, and the only man Darin had touched thereafter was Finn.

“Then you’ll be nice and snug for Finn.” Conall’s tone was even, and Darin wondered what he thought of his confession.

Finn’s digit moved in and out, granting him the barest stretch. Soon, he withdrew and probed his entrance with two fingertips.

“Bear down,” Finn said, and Darin obeyed. Finn pushed into his ring of muscle, his two fingers offering double the girth, and Darin struggled to take him in. Finn turned and twisted his digits until they conquered his tight entrance and slipped inside.

“Fuck.” The curse escaped Darin.

“How does it feel?” Conall asked.

“Good, so good, sir.” The bead at his slit swelled, growing with every move Finn made inside of him. “The stretch… it’s what I need. It makes me feel owned.” His cheeks glowed.

“Not as owned as you’ll feel when Finn is inside you.”

Darin gasped, struggling to believe he’d heard right. Finn’s digits carefully moving in his hole brought on another shuddering intake of air. His insides constricted around the fingers gliding through him, desperate to feel them everywhere. It was a heady sensation, and everything in Darin screamed for more, screamed to be touched in his special place.

“P-Please,” Darin whimpered, “touch my prostate.”

“Is that what you want?” Conall asked, running a fingertip over one of Darin’s hard nipples. The touch shot straight into his cock.

“Yes, sir. Please.”

Finn did no such thing, and Darin groaned in frustration. They were going to torment him until he passed out, and he’d enjoy every minute of it. When they put their hands on him, he belonged.

Finn’s fingers pumped into him, making his needy hole throb and twitch around them. “Fuck,” Darin panted, and that shiny drop pearled off his glans and drooled onto the sheets.

“You’re such a slut for Finn, aren’t you? You could come with just those fingers in you. I loved doing that to you onThe Pillaging Seas, playing with your tight little hole until you came so hard you forgot your name. And then I’d fuck you.”

Darin clenched around Finn’s digits. The truth was that they, combined with Conall’s words, were carrying him toward climax with frightening speed.

“Finn, crook your fingers,” Conall said, his tone feigning boredom.

Finn did, and Darin cried out as he stroked across his prostate. His vision faded, and his insides undulated.

“Now, don’t touch him there again,” Conall said, voice dampened as though through a heavy veil. “We’re going to reduce him to a begging mess.” He placed a fingertip to Darin’s lips. “You’re a whore,” he said to Darin. “That’s what you are. Our fucking little whore.”

Warmth flamed in Darin’s chest. There was nowhere else he’d rather be than with those two men taking him apart. “Yes, sir. I am.” His lips brushed Conall’s finger pad as he spoke, virtually kissing it.

Conall pushed in, and Darin licked and sucked at the digit as if it were cock. Once he’d wet it, Conall withdrew and rubbed the slick tip on Darin’s nipple. Darin quivered when cool air hit his sensitive skin.

Finn circled his sweet spot, teasing all those nerve endings around where Darin needed him the most, but never giving him the rub across his core he was yearning for.

“Finn,” Darin panted. “Please.” He rolled his hips, trying to steal a nudge to his gland, but Finn was too dexterous, expertly avoiding his pleasure center.

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