Page 22 of The Merman’s Betrothal (Outcast Hearts #2)

T he last twenty minutes had been wild for Fionn.

When Neacel returned to the chamber with a basket of dressed seaweed salad, Fionn began by venturing something of an apology.

‘ I did not mean to speak so fiercely, ’ he said while accepting a portion of bladderwrack. ‘ I hope you can forgive my passion on the matter of this soul bond, seeing as more than my own fate rests upon it. ’

‘ More than, Your Highness? ’

‘ The entire kingdom, ’ Fionn pressed on boldly. ‘ If I cannot escape my Redfolk betrothal, then I shall never be able to serve my people to my fullest potential. ’

Surely Fionn imagined it, but he could’ve sworn that Neacel rolled his eyes. ‘ Are you sure that’s your true motivation? There is no shame in admitting that you simply want a different future. ’

‘ I want what’s best for my people. There’s so much more that I can give— ’

Fionn stopped, suddenly frozen.

Like an explosion in his rib cage, the soul bond boomed with panicked urgency. A wave of distress surged from Rory on the other end of it.

‘ Fionn? ’ Neacel asked, looking at him curiously.

Fionn realised he was trembling. He tripped over his own tongue with a hasty explanation. ‘ Rory. Rory needs my help. ’

The words trailed behind him as he was already bolting for the current. He sang the water to speed him along, faster than it had ever carried him before, all the way into Loch Broom and right up to the Ullapool harbour wall.

Fionn leapt from the water, stampeding over stone and then tarmac, drawing gasps and pointing fingers from strangers on the street.

He didn’t care, despite the fact he was probably still half-blue and not wearing human clothing.

Rory needed him and there was no worldly eventuality that would stop him from answering that call.

Following the directional pull of the bond coupled with a hazy memory of the town, Fionn found Rory’s front door and broke it down without hesitation.

He took the stairs two at a time despite his loathing of the things, and finally sensed Rory behind another door off the landing.

He heard splashing water and groans of distress—Rory must be in pain.

Fionn charged inside and was met by the sight of Rory spread-eagled in a white tub filled with water.

A bath, Fionn thought dimly.

Rory stared up at him, slack-jawed. Fionn couldn’t help but stare back at where Rory’s fingers disappeared inside his body. Rory’s cock was rigid—like the rest of his muscles really, as his whole body seemed contorted in the middle of a chaotic effort to pleasure himself.

‘Oh,’ Fionn managed, faintly.

Rory licked his lips. His voice was hoarse. ‘Have you come to fuck me?’

Oh, no.

The epiphany hit Fionn like a whale. No, he hadn’t come to fuck Rory. He’d come because he thought Rory was in trouble. But now that he was here it was like his own body was waking up. And the rush of foreign cravings it brought was terrifying .

‘Do you want me to? I don’t—’ Fionn stumbled, ripping his gaze away from Rory. His chest burned with the heat of the bond.

‘F—uck it. Just stand there, then.’ Rory’s back arched, his fingers resuming motion. His cock bobbed in and out of the water as his hips strove to meet his own thrusts. The bond thudded against Fionn’s heart in time with Rory’s movements.

Fionn’s throat was dry. ‘What do you want me to do?’

Rory’s face was set in a deep frown, concentration and frustration pulling all his features into an expression approaching pain. ‘I don’t know. I don’t fucking know any more. I just want to come.’

Fionn knelt by the tub. Suddenly he had Rory’s full attention. Fionn rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen himself up but in reality just tensing further. Stiffly, he leaned over the side of the bath, noting the way Rory’s mouth dropped open as he came closer.

His mate needed him and he would do his duty: this is what Fionn repeatedly told himself to quell his nerves. Rory needed him. Rory needed him.

Fionn dipped his hand into the water, holding Rory’s gaze.

‘Fuck,’ Rory whispered. He visibly trembled as Fionn’s fingers lightly grazed his thigh.

‘Fuck,’ he said again as Fionn’s hand found his and gently pried it away.

‘Oh, fuck,’ he breathed as Fionn stroked a careful line from the cleft of his ass-cheeks to the tender skin under his balls.

Meanwhile, Fionn held his breath. He tried to recall, with panic, every ounce of information he’d ever gleaned about sexual acts throughout his life.

Oh, he knew how the deed was done . Knew the mechanics of it. Had studied reproductive biology with the same diligent focus he applied to every act of advancement required of a prince.

But as for these little moans and shivers coming from Rory… no reproductive text ever mentioned that . Or more importantly, how to keep those moans and shivers coming. Those were details one was supposed to learn from peers. Through candid anecdotes from friends that Fionn did not have.

At most, he’d received the odd sly remark from Iomhar insinuating that Fionn might have more to learn than he realised. Fionn was galled to recognise that the old bastard was right.

‘You fallen asleep, or what?’ Rory mumbled from the tub.

Fionn gulped down his panic. He’d completely frozen up. What a worthless reaction for a prince. He wouldn’t let Rory see him this way.

‘Just making sure you are ready,’ Fionn replied with such confidence that he almost fooled himself.

‘Do something before I change my mind, Jesus.’

Fionn steeled himself and slid his fingers down to caress Rory’s hole. The move elicited a hiss from Rory who then squeezed his eyes shut.

Fionn teased it a little, rubbing gently with his fingertip, feeling his own body flushing with heat at the thought and sight of what he was doing. He detected a slipperiness that aided his fondling, letting his fingers glide smoothly against Rory’s flesh.

If Fionn didn’t know any better, he’d have thought that Rory was wet for him. But human males didn’t have that ability.

Did they?

Not quite intentionally, and certainly not feeling in control of himself, Fionn dipped his finger beyond Rory’s rim, sliding an inch inside.

‘Haah…’ Rory’s knuckles whitened where they gripped the sides of the tub.

Rory was wet. Or if he wasn’t, it was some incredibly effective lubricant he’d used. Fionn found himself in a haze, completely rapt on the heat and the slickness around his finger. It sent sparks fizzing down his spine, blooming a similarly wet feeling from his own core.

Fionn groaned deeply. He was familiar with the sensation but had never experienced it so intensely.

‘Why the fuck are you moaning?’ Rory said hoarsely.

‘Because you feel good,’ Fionn admitted.

‘Are you getting off on this?’

‘Yes.’

Another shiver trembled over Rory’s skin. He angled his hips against Fionn’s fist, pushing against him. ‘Come on, then.’

Fionn allowed the whole length of his finger to slide in. It seemed to knock the air from Rory’s lungs.

‘Are you all right?’ Fionn asked, afraid he’d hurt him.

‘Fine.’ Rory looked away, his ruddy cheeks gaining a deeper shade. ‘Your fingers are thicker than mine.’

Fionn leaned in to study his expression closer. ‘Would you like another one?’

‘Two?’ Rory squeaked. He sank into the water, hiding his mouth, and gave a curt nod without looking up.

Taking great care, Fionn pulled out a little and then kneaded a second finger against Rory’s hole. It was almost effortless, like Rory’s body was working to accommodate him, remaining slick and relaxed until Fionn had both fingers knuckle-deep inside him.

Rory’s head tipped back, exposing his mouth again in a silent ‘O’ directed at the ceiling.

Fionn’s excitement was mounting. Not just at the beautiful display of Rory’s body, which really was incredible: so thick and strong, and held utterly taut under Fionn’s ministrations. He was excited by his own enjoyment of the act. The thrill of giving Rory pleasure.

As he began to move his fingers they encountered familiar ridges protruding from Rory’s inner flesh. Familiar, because Fionn had encountered them in his own acts of self-pleasure.

Fionn’s brows knitted in confusion. Did humans have these? He’d been taught that their inner workings were shaped differently. Rory certainly shouldn’t have a…

Fionn paused, mind racing. It couldn’t be, could it?

‘All right?’ Rory asked weakly, still staring at the ceiling.

‘I think… I think I’ve found something…’

‘Might be my, um… prostrate.’ Rory’s voice practically disappeared on the last word, like he was too embarrassed to utter it.

Fionn wasn’t sure what one of those was, but he suspected it wasn’t what he’d found.

Barely daring to breathe, Fionn angled his fingers appropriately.

His middle finger grazed the tight ring of an inner opening, a rim on the inside wall of Rory’s channel.

Then he pushed inside the pocket, filling the half-inch space with his fingertip.

‘ Hnah! Ah, fuck! ’ Rory’s cock released its load in an explosive stream. His body thrashed with the force of it, hands and legs slipping from the sides of the bath.

Fionn caught him as his face dunked underwater. He supported Rory’s head, stroking the back of his neck while Rory choked air back into his lungs.

‘What the fuck? ’ Rory finally managed.

Fionn beamed at him. ‘This is wonderful, Rory. This changes everything!’ Inside he screamed with exhilaration. The fates had not made a mistake after all!

‘What did you do to me?’

Fionn puffed out his chest. His execution had been flawless. ‘I stimulated your egg bower and your body reacted accordingly!’

‘My… what?’ Rory wriggled, attempting to sit upright while getting control of his breathing.

But Fionn, too caught up in the joy of his discovery, responded by enthusiastically flexing his finger again to make his point. ‘Your bower.’

Rory spasmed. A strangled noise like ‘ Hnnngh ’ rose from his throat while another dribble of cum pulsed from his cock.

‘You’re very responsive,’ Fionn remarked, delighted with the observation.

‘Oh, god.’ Rory struggled to get upright. He slipped back down and settled for remaining reclined.

‘Shall I do it again?’ Fionn asked.

‘No!’

Fionn’s elation sank a little, but he respectfully pulled away. ‘Very well.’

Rory collapsed as Fionn’s fingers left his body. His muscles relaxed, legs stretching out in the bath. He lay placidly in the cool water, avoiding Fionn’s gaze.

‘That’s some trick,’ Rory muttered eventually. ‘Didn’t think it was going to be that good.’

Fionn’s heart sang. He had impressed Rory with his prowess. The soul bond was not a mistake of nature. They were surely a perfect match.

Fionn could barely keep the hum of DeepSong out of his voice. It lent melody to his words as he tried feverishly to explain. ‘It felt that way because your body is built for it. Your body is built for mine, Rory Douglas. You have a bower, and that is proof! It means you are—’

‘Stop. Shut up.’ Rory’s face scrunched as he rubbed his forehead. ‘What the fuck is a bower?’

Fionn plucked Rory’s free hand from the water, clasping it in his. With total sincerity, and in hindsight too much enthusiasm, he said, ‘It is the chamber in the body where Bluefolk receive their partner’s eggs.’