Page 69 of Stealing the Merman

“He sometimes gets a little hot,” Conall said. “Nothing to worry about.” His gaze ate Finn up.

“Y-Yes,” Finn said. “It’s warm in here.”

Conall’s big hand squeezed his knee, and he kissed Finn’s cheek, his stumble lightly scratching him. “You can come if you like, sweetheart,” Conall whispered. “Nobody’s going to know.”

But how could they not know? Wouldn’t they notice if he broke out into convulsions at the table?

Conall launched into an animated speech about trading routes out of San Juan, Puerto Rico, and it drew the men’s attention away from Finn. He clutched at Conall, inhaling his scent. The rings would help him not to come, Finn told himself. Their grip on him was firm, and as his cock throbbed in his breeches and his balls climbed higher, the rings worked harder to restrain his impending climax.

But Finn had underestimated the power of the plug. The moment he relaxed his pelvic floor, thinking he was safe and could let go, the toy massaged itself into his prostate, and Finn buried his face in the crook of Conall’s neck in time to muffle his cry of ecstasy. His lust overcame the cock ring’s efforts, and he came hard and fast, shaking through his orgasm as he unloaded in his breeches. Conall’s fingers tightened on his knee, reassuring Finn as he dissolved in rapturous contractions.

Had the pirates realized what was going on? Were they watching him? And why did the idea turn him on? He squirmed, trying to get away from the constant pulse in his hole, but there was no escape. Pleasure blinded Finn as the embarrassment of his situation crashed into him, and he came again, harder than before. It knocked the air out of him, and then the toy went wild, prodding and stroking him until he was a panting, coming mess, hiding his face against Conall’s neck.

It lasted for minutes, and when the plug slowed, Finn’s breathing and pulse took a while to calm. Thankfully, the pirates were absorbed in their discussion, unaware of Finn’s lapse. Conall’s face was stoic, except for a twitch of his lips that gave him away. His hand traveled up and down Finn’s leg, petting him through his aftershocks. Deep gratitude settled in Finn. Without the toy, he’d be miserable with unfulfilled need. Conall and Darin looked after him, ensuring his satisfaction. Instead of a night filled with sexual frustration, he had one of secret climaxes ahead of him.

A commotion at the door pulled Finn out of his thoughts. A tall woman accompanied by a large retinue was marching into the drinking hall. She was pale as a ghost with long auburn hair floating around her shoulders and gleaming emerald eyes. Her gaze was cold and empty like that of a reptile, and when it swept the hall and fell on Conall, Finn and Darin, Finn froze for the split second that her hard eyes rested on him. A chill raced down his spine.

The woman wore heavy boots, a pirate captain’s hat and her weapon belt held two impressive, inornate swords. They weren’t the type of weapon carried by one who didn’t know how to use them. Capable two-handed sword fighters existed, but they were exceedingly rare. The tavern staff shrank back from her, and so did the men on the tables she passed. An aura of confidence and authority seeped from her every pore, and she walked with her head held high like she owned the place.

“Look at that,CaptainAnne Doyle is here,” a man at the next table whispered, barely loud enough for Finn to hear. He put so much venom into the word “captain,” it sounded like an insult.

“Late as all the important people are,” another scoffed, but as soon as he’d spoken, he anxiously looked around as if to check who’d overheard him.

Conall hadn’t, for he was engrossed in negotiations. Captain Anne Doyle made a demand Finn was too far away to hear. The tavern staff grew flustered. One looked terrified at whatever she’d asked for. Anne Doyle took a step forward. That was enough to send the staff into action, giving in to what she was asking for. One stumbled into the nearest private parlor, ushering out the men inside under profuse apologies. The men accompanying Anne Doyle, including a ravishing young man glued to her, wore bored expressions as if this happened everywhere. The tavern keeper bowed to her as she and her entourage strutted into the private parlor.

“She’s killed more men than all of us together,” the man at the next table said quietly to his friend. “I’m not going to try and negotiate with her.”

“It’s not worth the trouble.”

Over the next hour, several men entered the parlor, heads lowered and their captain hats held to their chests. When they exited minutes later, they walked like a dog with its tail between its legs.

Finn could no longer pay attention as the plug inside him resumed its attack, and he lost himself in pleasure. He clung to Conall’s side, hiding his face on his shoulder as he came and came and came. It wasn’t the same as getting fucked, but it’d keep him going.

Eventually, the meeting dissolved as pirates peeled away from their table, some participating in the court hearings the Brethren conducted. Conall seemed pleased with how things had gone, and they too left, heading for one of the parlors on the first floor. It was a small, plush room, half of it a balcony that overlooked the drinking hall they’d sat in.

There, Conall met with old friends he knew from his time in New Providence when he’d first arrived in the New World. Back in the day, the island was governed by the Republic of Pirates. The English drove them out, and the captains formed the new Brethren of the Coast. Conall made introductions, the men taking great interest in Finn and Darin.

“You’ve got two beauties,” a captain with a deeply furrowed face and frizzy gray hair said, nodding toward them as they framed Conall.

He made a move to touch Darin’s hair. Conall shoved Darin and Finn behind him, putting his hulky frame between his lovers and the man, fingers curling around the hilt of his cutlass. A growl rose in his throat. “Touch them and you lose a hand.”

The old captain’s eyes widened, and he backed off, hands held up in defense. “Message received loud and clear, the boys are yours. I won’t step on your turf.”

Conall’s reaction seemed excessive, but later, Finn watched in horror as Captain Taylor had to draw his rapier to fend off three drunken pirates who tried to snatch his young Spanish companion.

The parlor was furnished in red with upholstered chairs and two long divans. In the middle of it all stood a delicate mahogany table, ridiculously small and out of proportion compared to the sturdy upholstery surrounding it. Finn sat next to Conall on the divan, his place at the balustrade granting him a view of the proceedings downstairs.

The men ordered rum, and Darin pulled out a deck of cards. He suggested playing for raiding rights, which the pirates laughed off, but then, challenged in their wit and masculinity by a boy, they agreed to play. Darin couldn’t participate as he was no captain, so they gave him the task of shuffling. That was their first mistake.

Finn leaned against the corner of the divan’s backrest and watched Darin mix the cards. The men were consumed by conversation and dizzy from all the rum and didn’t pay attention. But Finn did. He’d played a few rounds with Darin while they’d been building the tavern in Mosquito Bay and knew the value of the different cards. Was Darin stacking the deck?

He got his answer when Conall picked up his cards and saw three kings. Four would’ve been better, but too suspicious. Rum was downed, and Conall won the round with flying colors. Darin’s resistance to alcohol was remarkable. He was slighter than the other pirates, yet knocked back equal amounts of liquor and remained sharp when the others slurred their speech.

The plug provided Finn with additional entertainment, and he stretched his legs behind Conall and Darin on the divan, enjoying the deep pulsations while the men were preoccupied with playing cards and drinking rum.

Every now and then, Conall lost a round on purpose, making eyes at Darin. He knew what he was doing, and while he acted drunker than everyone else, he was on top of his game, robbing the other pirates with a smile on his lips.

In the small hours, Darin and Finn excused themselves briefly to remove the toy—it had been in long enough to satisfy Finn. When they returned to the parlor, Finn noticed how the noise drifting up from the drinking hall had quieted. Enough pirates were continuing their drinking and lively discussion, but many had retired—the first rays of the sun would hit the horizon in a couple of hours, and many captains were past their prime.

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