Page 56 of Stealing the Merman

Nevertheless, Darin wrapped his arms around Finn, holding him tight as he morphed. Conall, too, stroked his cheek, clasped his hand. It wasn’t necessary at this point, but Finn appreciated the gesture. The pain came, harsh like a knife but gone so quickly, it was over before Finn could scrunch up his face.

In place of his fishtail, two legs rested on the mat. Finn wriggled his toes and rotated his feet from side to side to get a feel for them as he always did after transforming. Darin eased him onto the mat, and Finn sank willingly until his back rested on the ground. The mat was surprisingly soft on his skin and emitted a faint grassy smell—it was made from dried seagrass, the long blades woven and tied to form a flat surface.

“How do you want me?” Finn asked, stretching like a cat in the sun. In the flickering firelight, both Conall and Darin’s eyes darkened. Finn bent his knees and pulled up his legs, making it clear what he had in mind. Exposing himself like that had excitement thrumming through his body. Blood shot into his cock, hardening it while slick seeped out of his entrance.

“Darin,” Conall said, “be a good boy and lick Finn’s hole. He needs you.”

“Yes, sir,” Darin said, slipping into his submissive role with Conall. Their dynamic fascinated Finn. It fit them like a glove, and a special bond threaded between them whenever Conall commanded and Darin obeyed. It was an honor to witness their connection.

Darin knee-walked between Finn’s parted legs, grabbed and lifted his rear and bent him in half so that most of Finn’s weight came to rest on his shoulders. The position had Finn’s throbbing cockhead pointing down at him, the first evidence of wetness glinting in his slit.

Darin leaned in, his gleaming red hair falling forward. His fingers sank into Finn’s glutes and spread his cheeks. Reflections of the flames danced in his hazel eyes, the golden flecks blazing with warm affection. Finn couldn’t take his gaze off them, not even when Darin’s tongue slid out to give him a long, slow stroke across his hole. A keen shiver raced over Finn’s skin as pleasure sparked, and he dropped a low whine.

Pure devotion glittered in Darin’s eyes as he ran his tongue across him again and again, bathing Finn in sensations until he broke out into a stream of eager whimpers. Darin flicked and circled his rim, the wet tip massaging Finn into pliancy.

Conall peppered Darin’s body with kisses, hands firmly on hips, claiming what was his. Conall’s instinctive authority turned them both into sequacious boys, cocks hard and bodies anxious to please him. How easily Conall could control a dozen men… Finn moaned, and Darin dipped into his opening, drawing ever louder and wilder sounds from him. Finn’s anal ring squeezed the invader, and the tickling, warm dampness of Darin’s tongue pressed against his inner walls all around. It set Finn on fire.

“Fuuuck,” Finn moaned. “Don’t stop. You’re… you’re going to make me come.” Precum leaked out of his glans and dripped onto his stomach. His swollen crown pulsed with need. He yearned to be touched, the slight friction of his cock rubbing against his stomach in minuscule movements as Darin worked him wasn’t enough.

“Darin is about to blow just from eating you out,” Conall said. The position of his arm suggested he was cupping Darin’s erection, holding his hardness. Finn’s insides cramped with lust. “But one of you isn’t allowed to come yet.” Conall removed his hand from Darin’s cock.

Finn expected Darin to let out a disappointed sound, but he licked into him with unwavering devotion, taking Finn higher and higher. Finn’s balls climbed until they sat snug against his body, ready to unload. To this day, he struggled to comprehend how a little attention to his hole could have him on the brink of orgasm in seconds.

“F-Fuck,” Finn breathed. “Love this so much.”

His sphincter contracted once, and Darin rotated his tongue, hitting every nerve ending inside Finn’s entrance. A hoarse shout bolted out of Finn, and he came in hard and fast convulsions. Cum hurled out of his cock and smacked him across the cheek, leaving him gasping. Panting, the next spurt hit his tongue, letting him taste his salty release. He’d always loved cum, but tasting his own was a gift from Conall and Darin by virtue of the potion. Bone-deep gratitude and a warmth Finn had never known bloomed in his chest, multiplied by a thousand as Darin ceaselessly licked the inside of his rim, drawing wave after wave out of him. Spurts of seed slapped his chin, his chest. His inhuman shrieks of pleasure imbued the air, and his body demanded more, more, more, even though he was still coming. But he needed to be penetrated and filled with something thicker and longer than Darin’s wonderful tongue.

He must have fainted in climax because one moment Darin was licking him, and the next Finn’s ass was back on the mat. Darin knelt between his legs, stroking them, Finn’s knees bent and feet flat on the ground all the while Conall licked the cum off his face.

“You’re delicious,” Conall rumbled in his ear, hot breath caressing him. “Sweet little merman.”

Finn’s cock twitched, uncaring he’d come a minute ago. His insatiable body was crying out for more. And he’d get it.

“Feed Finn your fingers,” Conall said to Darin.

Obediently, Darin lowered onto him. Finn’s lips parted as Darin placed a couple of digits on them. His tongue darted forward, brushing those soft fingertips. They tasted of sea salt, and he opened wider, licking them all over.

“Four fingers,” Conall said, stroking Finn’s hair in the world’s most soothing motion.

Darin’s brow scrunched, and Finn, too, was at a loss what he meant. Darin recovered first from his confusion and pulled out his fingers, only to let four of them slide into Finn’s mouth. Their width stretched Finn’s lips, and he ran his tongue along their underside before he circled them and finally squeezed into the tight spaces between them.

Finn had a dark inkling of what Conall might be up to. It excited him. Scared him. But with Darin and Conall, he was up for anything.

When his digits were thoroughly wet, Darin withdrew. He pushed up on one hand and knelt between Finn’s spread legs, placing a finger pad on his rim. Conall whispered in Darin’s ear, and as he did so, he pulled at the string of cloth holding his hair in a high bun. The knot came loose, and Conall’s bronze mane tumbled onto his shoulders, veiling his face as he quietly spoke to Darin.

Darin’s eyes flicked all over as he took in Conall’s words. Uncertainty crept over his face, and he wavered, but then nodded. Darin wouldn’t disobey Conall’s orders, though his hesitation had Finn worried and intrigued alike.

The pressure of his fingertip on Finn’s little muscle increased, but he didn’t attempt to insert it. Instead, he traced the puckered skin, Finn’s hole opening and closing. He needed Darin badly.

“Please,” Finn said. “Please, push in.” His entrance quaked, underlining his desperation to be filled.

“Do it,” Conall said, and Darin’s finger drew a spiral that ended with him entering Finn’s depths. A happy gasp escaped Finn as Darin probed him, the welcome friction along his inner walls a boon on his needy hole.

“S-So good,” Finn panted.

He was rewarded by the slow in and out of Darin’s finger. Finn’s insides clenched the intruding digit, and he moaned at the deliciousness of his nerve endings pressing into a solid finger, but it wasn’t enough.

He needn’t have worried, because when Darin pulled out, he came back with two fingers. “I love how wet you get,” Darin said as he inserted them.

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