Page 50 of Stealing the Merman

Conall picked up a steady rhythm, effectively fucking them both. Darin adjusted his angle going into Finn as best as he could and was rewarded with a string of debauched, helpless sounds when he nailed his prostate. The feeling of Finn’s narrow hole around his cock was marvelous. And so was Conall’s thick shaft inside him. How had Darin survived without this? His front pressed to Finn’s back, Conall’s hands on his hips, Darin was engulfed by the two most gorgeous men.

“Finn is going to come any minute,” Conall said. “I want you to hold off, Darin. You’ll feel the urge to come when he does but hold back.”

“Yes, sir.”

Conall picked up speed, savagely thrusting into Darin. It propelled him forward, and under Conall’s merciless pace, he vibrated against Finn’s prostate. Finn shook, and his insides tightened, straining around Darin. Moans flew from his lips, and then Finn curled in on himself and came.

Rampant contractions engulfed Darin, attempting to milk him for everything he had. Conall plunging into his gland wasn’t helping. Darin held on by sheer force of will. The pleasure engulfing him mounted. Underneath him, Finn screamed his lungs out, begging to be fucked harder as his hole seized time and again.

Darin gave him all he had, following Conall’s punishing rhythm. Then, with a sound bordering on a sob, Finn’s hole tightened, firming its grip on Darin until it locked him in. The pressure was extraordinary and almost enough to drive him over the edge. Finn undulated, his orgasmic waves massaging Darin’s cock to paradise. It took Darin every ounce of self-control to restrain his climax.

His glans pressed into Finn’s love nut, and while he was unable to move, Conall’s momentum carried forward, causing him to ceaselessly prod Finn. It was magnificent insanity. Conall hammered Darin’s sweet spot, pushing him closer and closer toward completion. Darin keened, and Conall laced his fingers through his hair until he had a fistful.

It was too much. The hint of pain at his scalp, Finn holding him in a vice grip, coming all around him and Conall drilling into him with verve. Darin couldn’t hold on.

“Come for us,” Conall said, and Darin detonated. He came apart between Conall and Finn, dissolving in waves of convulsions that sent him flying. Panting and moaning, he unloaded inside Finn, painting his walls in hot cum. Darin’s anus contracted around Conall, setting him off. Conall came with a raw grunt. Rapid, wet spurts doused Darin’s hole, making him come all the harder. He writhed, Conall’s strength alone holding him in place. Ecstasy soared. Wedged between Conall and Finn, he was home. Finn’s impassioned, slutty moans and clenching walls combined with Conall’s violent rutting into his prostate drove Darin to soaring heights. His groin seized in rapturous contractions as his entire body orgasmed, satisfying him like nothing else ever had.

Finn was the first to collapse, taking Darin and Conall with him as he dropped to the mattress. Caught in a pile of warm bodies, Darin, sated and blissed-out, dozed off.

When he came to, it was with Conall’s arm around his waist and Finn’s lips on his chest. The town hall’s foyer had gone dim. Where bright sunlight had fallen through the windows, oil lamps dipped the pillars and walls into an aureate glow.

“How do you feel?” Finn asked, his eyes downcast. He sounded shy.

“Amazing,” Darin said, stretching as much as the two bodies pressed against him allowed.

“I loved what you did to me.”

“Same. Best orgasm of my life.” It was no exaggeration, nothing had ever been this intense. He’d never come this hard. It had granted him a bone-deep satisfaction he hadn’t known existed.

Behind him, Conall stirred and withdrew his arm. With it gone, a cold shiver raced through Darin despite the warm evening air.

They dressed and headed to a beachside tavern. As they walked along the faintly lit streets, Darin was captivated by Finn in human clothes. His white, unlaced shirt gaped, revealing an unsavory amount of skin. His breeches were closely fitted, clinging to his body in all the right places. He wore them without stockings or even shoes—he would’ve been arrested in a reputable town. It was bordering on unacceptably obscene in a pirate haven. But with a giant like Conall by his side and a lightly armed Darin, no one dared to say anything. Nevertheless, the men they passed did stare. Darin couldn’t blame them. Finn’s sandy hair picked up the light of the lamps, as did his smooth skin. His supernatural beauty couldn’t be denied.

The tavern was a simple, wall-less construction, no more than a roof of dried palm tree leaves supported by posts erected on a wooden platform. It was built directly on the beach, the gentle breaking of the waves against the shore a soothing background melody. Oil lamps hung from the ceiling, casting their golden light on the cozy seats of piled-up pillows and low tables. Darin had never seen this kind of arrangement of furniture before, but he’d heard from sailors who’d traveled further than he had, that the people of Arabia like to sit this way. Perhaps the tavern keeper, surely a pirate himself, had visited these lands and taken a liking to their customs. Darin imagined him riding through the desert on an exotic animal, visiting local inns and falling in love with their furnishings.

They picked seats on the edge of the platform, looking out onto the sea. Darin was taking off his boots when Conall sank onto the rug and leaned onto the heap of pillows propped up against one of the wooden posts holding up the roof. Finn joined him, snuggling into his side, head on his chest. He closed his eyes, deeply inhaling Conall’s scent. Conall tangled a hand in his hair and placed a kiss on top of his head.

It was a picture of intimacy, and suddenly Darin felt himself drifting away from them as if the current of the ocean had picked him up and was pulling him out to sea. He shouldn’t be here; he shouldn’t be intruding. His presence disrupted their privacy. It would’ve been best had he turned around the moment he saw them together in the town hall. Sure, the three of them had enjoyed amazing sex, but that was it. Conall and Finn didn’t want him to linger.

Darin stood frozen, one shoe off his foot, the other still halfway on. What was he supposed to do? Was he stealing Finn from Conall? Or Conall from Finn? He didn’t know what would be worse. What if he’d misinterpreted everything, and Conall was tolerating him for Finn’s benefit? Conall had dismissed him after Shroud Cay after all.

“Why do you look so sullen?” Conall asked, rousing Finn and startling Darin.

“I…”

“Take off those boots and join us. My left side is getting cold.”

“Yes, sir,” Darin said automatically, kicked off his remaining boot and stepped onto the platform.

The rug under his bare feet was soft, and he padded over to Conall, sitting down by his side but keeping a foot of awkward air between them. Conall had none of it and wrapped a brawny arm around him, pulling him close. The heat of Conall’s body seared him despite two layers of clothing between them.

“What’s with you?” Conall asked.

The low timbre of his voice reverberated through Darin. He swallowed drily, lost for words. What should he say?

Finn looked at him expectantly with his large, beautiful aquamarine eyes. “Are you all right?”

Darin bit his lip. “Yes.”

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