Page 61 of Stealing the Merman

“Yes.”

The parrot circled them once, then landed on Finn’s outstretched hand. Its feet clawed onto his wrist and the joint of his thumb, then it lowered its beak and picked the grains out of Finn’s hollowed hand.

“I can take the boat to Esperanza and buy supplies,” Darin said. “We’ll need an ax to chop wood, for example. And if we stay for a while, we’ll have to buy potion for Finn. I’ll get some of that too.”

Finn didn’t want to be a burden on his men. He didn’t know much about silver and gold, but he knew that it was valuable to humans and that the potion cost a lot of it. “You don’t have to. I can…”

“No,” Conall growled. “We’ll take care of your needs. There’s no discussion.”

Unable to look at them, Finn turned to the bird feeding out of his hand.

“Hey,” Darin said, putting a hand on Finn’s neck. “It’s all right. We’d do anything to make you feel good. If you’re worried about the price—don’t. Coins are there to be spent, and I’d rather use mine to ensure your happiness.”

“We don’t know if it’s available in Esperanza. Don’t worry if it isn’t,” Finn said.

“I’d hazard a guess it is,” Darin said.

“Yes,” Conall said. “It probably is. Back in Vieques Town, I heard a rumor of pirates taking a couple of mermen there, to enjoy them in peace. If you aren’t a captain, claiming a merman for yourself is difficult, insatiable as your kind is. Many pirates would kill to get a leg over one of you. No offense.”

“None taken.”

“I’ll get you the potion,” Darin said.

He kissed Finn, quick but firm, and Finn swore to put in as much work into constructing the tavern for Conall as he could and find a way to repay Darin. Perhaps he could pay him back in blowjobs, though that didn’t seem right—Finn enjoyed giving those too much.

He thought of the cowrie shells he’d collected in secret that morning when Darin and Conall had been asleep. Hopefully, they’d like the finished product.

They spent the following weeks collecting materials and building the foundation of the tavern. A wooden platform, posts to hold up the ceiling beams, a roof of dried palm tree leaves. They carpentered the main drinking hall and private rooms at the back. Like the beachside tavern they’d visited in Vieques Town, theirs wouldn’t have walls, allowing guests to relax in the fresh Caribbean air instead of having to inhale the usual tavern smells. Finn worked day and night to ensure he did the most. He wasn’t sure if Conall wanted to keep him around long-term, but he felt indebted to him and Darin for the potion, and if he was contributing to them starting a life together, then he was happy for it.

It was a wonderful time. The tough physical labor steeled his body, as it did Darin’s. Conall would always out-muscle them no matter what they did, but Finn enjoyed seeing his and Darin’s body harden under the weight of the wooden planks, tree trunks and water buckets they carried. They were both slim as ever, but their biceps grew, and their abdomens developed the ridges and valleys of men used to tough work.

When they laid back on a mat by the fire in the evening after hours of sweating in the sun, Finn traced the new lines that formed on Darin’s stomach. The outdoors life had deepened Darin’s tan to a light brown, and the flames cast dancing shadows on his defined abs. More often than not, Finn couldn’t resist licking up a pearl of sweat from his abdomen, only to find himself sliding further south to worship Darin’s cock with his mouth.

The sex was glorious. Darin and Conall took turns fucking him, which meant Finn got to come four or five times a day. It kept him deeply satisfied. Whenever desire coiled in his loins, one of his men was ready to put him on his back or bend him over a newly built table to fuck the breath out of him. His constant state of elation was solely dampened by one thing.

Darin and Conall didn’t get enough time alone. They each took care of Finn’s lust at least twice a day, leaving little energy for them to play with one another. Conall would throw Darin hungry looks, and Darin sank to his knees for any inane reason whenever Conall was around. They needed each other. Finn couldn’t offer Conall the total submission Darin gave him. Neither could he dominate Darin the way he craved.

“Darin needs you,” Finn said to Conall one day as they were finishing the tavern’s roof. “You need to fuck him too. The way you look at each other… you’re hungry for it, both of you. I don’t want to be the thing that keeps you apart.”

“One,” Conall growled, giving the post a good shove to ensure it was set properly, “you’re not a ‘thing.’ Two, you need to come. Your eyes dim, and you run around with a raging hard-on if you go without for half a day. Jerking off alone doesn’t take the edge off. You tried. If anything, it makes you more desperate to be filled afterward. I don’t want you to have an accident helping me construct the tavern because you’re too horny to watch what you’re doing.”

“But…”

“If Darin and I fuck, we’ll have less energy to keep you sated.” Conall tucked a curl behind Finn’s ear. He smelled of man and wood and the sweat of a day’s hard work, and Finn’s insides clenched with need. “And you know that I want you to be satisfied. Always. You deserve it.”

Finn jutted out his chin and licked his lips. “I want to watch you.” Something flashed in Conall’s eyes, and Finn built on it. “I want to watch you take Darin. I want to see you use him. Fuck him. Turn him into a quivering mess begging you for more. I bet I’ll be satisfied if I get off witnessing that.”

That evening, Finn lay on his side, cock in hand as he watched Conall pound Darin a few yards away under the light of the new oil lamps hanging from the tavern’s ceiling. He’d argued they needed space around them, that he didn’t want to intrude, which was why he needed to stay further away. He was never intruding, they told him, but they agreed to him keeping a bit of distance to grant him a better view. Good. He didn’t want to disrupt their lovemaking but observe it from afar.

He palmed his erection, unable to look away as Conall took Darin from behind. Precum slicked his hand and shaft, and his mouth fell open when Conall pistoned into Darin with rabid force, taking him the way Darin liked it. The sex was violent, and Conall drove in with abandon. He fisted Darin’s hair and pushed his head to the floor, keeping him there as he slammed into him harder and harder.

Darin moaned like a bitch in heat, shuddering in pleasure every time Conall hit his prostate. Finn’s hand curled around his cock, and he stroked his length in step with Conall’s rapid thrusts.

“You fucking gorgeous whore,” Conall barked, shoving his dick deep inside.

Darin quaked and writhed. His sharp sobs of “yes” and “sir” were loud enough to be heard across the bay.

Conall’s domination of Darin was brutal and thorough. He didn’t rest until Darin was a shaking, pleading mess, begging for Conall to allow him to orgasm. Finn swallowed air, violently jerking his shaft, straining his inner muscles, determined not to come until Darin had permission too. He struggled, not used to Darin’s ironclad discipline.

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