Page 58 of Stealing the Merman

Darin breached his rim. Finn screamed in pleasure and pain, but the latter was obliterated by the sheer power of his continuing climax as three fingers stretched him wide open, claiming and conquering him. Finn hadn’t thought it possible for his orgasm to intensify, but intensify it did when Darin slid in and out. Every time he withdrew, he pulled back until nothing but the tips of his fingers were in Finn, only to plunge back in, widening his tight hole.

“Four,” Conall said, and Finn’s eyes widened, his mouth slackened. Conall couldn’t possibly mean. Four. Fingers. Yes, Finn’s hole was self-lubricating, but it was also incredibly tight, designed to deliver ultimate pleasure to the men that took him.

Darin’s fingers folded together at Finn’s opening, index and little finger folding under his middle and ring ones. Finn’s sphincter trembled in fear of the mighty intrusion he was about to be subjected to. His climactic waves slowed.

Then Darin’s fingers pushed against and through Finn’s little muscle. His digits dragged over Finn’s oversensitive nerve endings, and immediately his blissful convulsions deepened and escalated. Finn undulated around the invasion. The bulk of Darin’s fingers was impressive, but Finn needed them pressed against his core to be truly satisfied.

“Deeper.” The word was a husky plea, begging Darin to give him what would bring him an orgasm of unsurpassed strength.

“Can’t,” Darin panted. Pearls of sweat ran down his brow, and his copper hair was damp and plastered to his head. Finn let out a frustrated mewl. His body needed more depth. “I’m in to the hilt.” Darin looked at Conall.

“It’s time,” Conall said, and Darin gave a curt nod. Time for what? “Fist him.” Oh shit.

Darin withdrew and crawled up on Finn, offering him his thumb. “Suck it.”

With pleasure. Finn opened his mouth, welcoming the digit inside. He looked Darin in the eye and tongued him, then applied suction, telling him without words what else he enjoyed sucking. Finn slicked his thumb all around, ensuring it was dripping. He had to look obscene, thumb in mouth, pupils blown, hair rumpled—thoroughly fucked out.

“Damn,” Darin cursed, a blush reddening his cheeks.

He moved back, folding his thumb under his fingers, tucking them together so they formed a shape akin to a duck’s head. A savage mix of feelings cooked in Finn. There was fear, anticipation and curiosity, but it all paled compared to the untamed desire coiling in his groin. Darin had to do this. He had to take him, destroy him, ruin him. This was what Finn wanted.

He spread his legs as wide as he could, offering himself. Conall placed hot, sloppy kisses on his shoulder, his cheek. Their lips and tongues met for a brief, fierce dance, and then Finn turned and locked eyes with Darin. “Take me.”

The first brush of grouped fingertips to his rosebud made him clench, his entrance involuntarily opening and closing, greeting Darin. He’d worked him open, and Finn was looser than before, but Darin’s hand was positively massive compared to his tiny anus. Darin exerted gentle pressure on his anal ring, annihilating the muscle’s resistance with tender force. His fingertips slipped inside, grazing Finn’s sensitive walls. It was nearly enough to make him come again. Darin inched forward, his eyes never leaving Finn’s. There was a gleam of pride in them.

With every bit Darin wormed his way in deeper, his hand grew wider. He stretched Finn’s rim, causing a welcome burn. Damn, his hand was big. There was no way Finn could take it all, but Darin twisted from side to side, screwing into him.

Finn gasped when four discernible knuckles reached his sphincter. His heart beat like a drum, his cock and hole twitching in time with it. Precum drooled from his slit onto his stomach, adding to the mess. Had there ever been a more lewd merman? Then those knuckles breached him, wringing surrender from him.

The world grew still. There was no sound except the distant crash of the surf, the crackle of the fire and the heavy breathing of three men brimming with lust. The thick scent of smoke and sea and arousal hung between them.

Darin pushed, turned his hand and slid in to the wrist. Finn groaned, harsh and loud. He’d never been owned so completely. That fist inside him meant something. Its massive girth parted his inner walls in all directions, spreading him wider than anything ever had. His anal muscles clutched Darin before loosening, then closing again. His body adopted a restless rhythm, close to orgasm, but not quite there. Nonetheless, Darin’s fist put extraordinary stress on the nerve endings lining Finn’s hole.

The urge to come crashed into him like a tidal wave. A broken whine forced its way out of his throat, his hole seized, and then he was begging.

“Fuck me,” Finn panted. “Please… fuck… me…” He sucked in air, and by some mercy, Darin glided in deeper, rolled his wrist, andbump, bump, bump, bump, four knuckles knocked his prostate.

Finn cried out as orgasm slammed into him with the force of a thousand storms. Devastating convulsions possessed his insides, making him come so hard he couldn’t hear or see or feel except for those maddening, all-encompassing spasms. It was the climax of a lifetime. His hole undulated, tingles raced up and down his spine, and his whole body shook with ecstasy. Finn lost control. He kicked and thrashed, and it took Conall’s strength to hold him, restrain him so that Darin could continue. Darin rotated his fist the other way, knuckles bumping one by one into Finn’s gland. Finn screamed until he was hoarse, his channel seizing over and over, worshiping Darin with every squeeze.

Even when the knuckles didn’t hammer him, the pressure on his prostate was immense, causing Finn to erupt in ever new contractions.

“My god,” Darin mumbled, “you’re so fucking wet. Your hole’s leaking fluid like there’s no tomorrow. Lets me slide through you like butter.” He twisted in and out for emphasis, moving smoothly through Finn’s tunnel, inadvertently setting off another round of brutal convulsions that catapulted Finn straight to heaven.

Suddenly, there were fingers at Finn’s lips, and he automatically sucked them into his mouth, licking and toying with them. Darin dove in and out, making Finn shout around the digits. Slick seeped out of him, dripping down his crack as his body ensured the assault on his hole wouldn’t hurt.

Then Conall removed his fingers, and that glorious fist slid out of Finn’s anus. Disappointment flooded him against his will—Darin and Conall had been so good to him—as his sad and empty, gaping hole clenched around nothing. Movement bustled around him, but he was too dazed to realize what was happening until another, wider set of wet fingertips settled on his ring of muscle, and Darin dropped onto the mat next to him, kissing his temple. He smelled of sweat and unsated need, and Finn sought his lips as the pressure on his sphincter increased. Only then did it register what was happening: It was Conall’s turn to obliterate him.

But as he pushed in, twisting his hand to subdue Finn’s resistance, it became clear that what he was slotting into him—larger than anything Darin had inserted—wasn’t his fist. It was merely four of his fingers.

Finn shuddered, his trembling breath vibrating over Darin’s cheek. “Conall’s hand is big, isn’t it?” Darin asked.

“Y-Yes,” Finn whimpered, overwhelmed by the monstrous girth snaking into him. He was coming, the waves that had weakened after Darin’s withdrawal were gaining strength, threatening to wash him away by the force of Conall’s invasion of his most private place.

Finn turned to look at Conall as Darin laced a hand in his hair. A smug smile pulled up one corner of Conall’s lips as he worked to fit every inch of his long, calloused fingers in Finn’s orgasming hole. That sight was enough to send Finn flying, and he convulsed around those thick digits. Finn groaned, helpless and stretched wide.

“Oh, you don’t know what’s coming for you,” Conall said and withdrew his digits, only to return with his entire hand, thumb tucked under his fingers.

Finn’s stretched rim quivered in alarm. He wouldn’t be able to fit Conall’s fist. Conall was a giant of a man, his hands mighty paws. Dread built in Finn, and his body tensed up despite Darin stroking his skin in soothing circles.

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