Pregnant With Their Babes

by Kelex

  To claim.

  He took the stranger’s head in his hand, cupping the man’s nape…

  “Dag?”

  Dagr tilted his stare and saw Oz glaring at him. What in the hell was I about to do? In front of every man aboard this ship?

  “Mayhap we give tha man sumtin’ ta wear?” Mr. Tyler, the quartermaster asked, thankfully pulling the attention to himself. “Can’t have him walkin’ ‘round nekkid as tha day he wuz borne. Mayhap a blanket from yer chest, Cap’n?”

  Oz nodded and waved the man off. No one spoke as Mr. Tyler sent one of the cabin boys off in search of something to cover the stranger in.

  “What’s your name?” Oz asked.

  Dagr drew in a breath, waiting impatiently for the answer. Not only did he need to hear the man’s voice again… the name… it mattered. For what reason, he was unable to fathom. The weight of need settled on his chest, making it harder to breathe.

  “Llyr,” the man whispered hoarsely before lifting a hand to his throat. He swallowed painfully, his handsome face twisted in discomfort.

  “Rest your throat,” Dagr assured as he rubbed the man’s shoulder. “We can ask more questions later.”

  Llyr’s gaze returned like the sun shone down on him. Warmth filled Dagr’s chilled body, and need… the need to claim again took root. His whole body trembled from the war within. He had to control himself.

  Had to.

  A blanket was handed to Dagr. Covering up a body that beautiful was a sin, but it had to be done. He glanced around at the crew, realizing they could see too much. He fought the desire to send them as far away as possible as it roared in his veins—there was only so far one could go on a ship. Dagr scowled at those who stared too hard.

  Looked too closely.

  Mine.

  His hands stilled as the word whispered through his mind.

  “Help me get him up,” Oz murmured to Dagr.

  With the assistance of Oz and Dagr, Llyr rose shakily to his feet. They draped the woolen blanket over his shoulders, hiding all that luscious flesh Dagr had no right to call his. Skin he craved to explore with his tongue, lips, and fingers.

  A spell. It must be a spell.

  Dagr shook his head, searching around them for magic in the air. He could sense it, but solely centered on Llyr. It emanated from within the man… and Dagr suspected it might come from a pendant around Llyr’s neck—but he didn’t sense the tendrils anywhere else. If they were affected by a spell, he’d be aware of it wrapping them around him.

  There were none.

  “Go back to your duties,” Oz growled at the crew. “We’ll find our guest somewhere to rest from his ordeal.”

  Dagr knew full well the crew’s curiosity would win out. When the men remained at first—Dagr glared at them and snarled. Begrudgingly, the men dispersed… though, their eyes kept being drawn back. A need to shield their mysterious stranger burned in his chest. Llyr struggled to walk, so Dagr moved in close on one side, as did Oz on the other. Their new guest’s steps strengthened with each he took, it seemed. They led him into Oz’s large cabin, their pace unhurried. Waning sunlight poured in through the cabin’s large windows as they entered, but that illumination was fading fast.

  A delighted gasp came from Llyr. “What is this place?”

  “My quarters,” Oz answered.

  “Quarters?” Llyr spun to give Oz a charmed smile, and in that moment Dagr felt a minute pang of jealousy. “What are quarters?”

  “My office. And the place I sleep,” Oz stated.

  “It smells of you.” Llyr’s eyes seemed to gleam with purpose. He turned and opened a small box on Oz’s desk. He lifted out a fountain pen and stared at it, a perplexed expression on his face. “These are your belongings?”

  “Yes.” Oz nodded before giving a quick, perplexed glimpse to Dagr.

  Dagr watched as their guest strode unsteadily toward the bookcase. He excitedly investigated all of Oz’s books, trinkets, and possessions, his steps awkward and weak—like that of a child. His desire to explore seemed to supplant his fatigued body’s need for rest. Llyr opened a few books and scanned the pages before moving on to lift the lid on a small chest. The man acted strangely, curious about the most mundane of items.

  Oz gave Dagr another confused expression and opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him. It opened a crack, and both of their cabin boys stood at the doorway.

  “I brought your clothes and firearms,” one of them said.

  Dagr winced, stunned he’d left his weapon on the deck upon his return from the water. It wasn’t like him. Snatching the bundle from the boy’s arms, he muttered a thanks under his breath.

  The other boy hefted a lantern aloft. “I came ta light yer lanterns, Cap’n.”

  “Go ahead… and be quick about it,” Oz instructed.

  Dagr scowled, not fond of the intrusion. All the boys wished for was a chance to peek at their strange, new guest. An irrational urge took hold of him— to snatch the flame and light the lanterns himself… simply to force the boys out faster. Dagr ignored the urge, clenching his fists.

  As his comrade stood watching at the door, the boy with the light stalked toward one of the three lanterns in the room. He eyed Llyr keenly as he moved. Llyr observed the cabin boy with equal diligence, his eyes wide as he watched the boy light the first flame. After, he tagged close behind, delightedly observing as it was repeated two more times—all with the same rapt fascination as the light grew brighter.

  The boys ducked out of the cabin, strange looks on their faces. The same strange look appeared on Oz’s face… and likely his own.

  “Ugh,” Llyr said, his voice still scratchy. As soon as the door shut behind the boys, he shrugged out of the blanket, letting it puddle around his feet—and leaving himself completely bare. “That thing prickles…”

  Their new guest seemed to have no problem with nudity. Dagr strived to avert his gaze, but he struggled not to take in all that gorgeous, soft-looking flesh. There no flaw he could see marring Llyr’s porcelain skin. His body was… perfection.

  A marble statue made flesh.

  Well… there was something unique to the man. Not exactly a flaw, as such. His stare lingered over the odd markings on his arm. He’d never seen tattoos quite the like. They were almost tribal in appearance, yet not like those he’d seen elsewhere.

  And the shell mark… it appeared almost too perfect not to be a tattoo, yet it seemed natural in appearance. The skin was darker pink there, as if it had been burnt into his flesh. Dagr hungered to get a better look… with the man under him in the bed not too far away.

  A swell of lust licked up his spine, sending little tendrils of need curling through every appendage. The scent of something—he paused to inhale—he’d smelled it before, he was almost sure of it. But Dagr was powerless to place what or where or when. All he recognized was it tickled at his nose, making his fingers twitch and his cock jerk.

  He closed his eyes, fighting the building desire.

  Yet he couldn’t keep them closed long. Not when there was so much beauty to inspect. His gaze traveled over the tattoos again, searching for some kind of meaning—before trailing lower. The soft swell of the man’s ass made him want to reach out and caress it. Llyr’s cock—his partially erect cock—did the same. Dagr licked his lips, hungry.

  So very, very hungry.

  His own cock was ramrod hard against his leg under his wet breeches. It ached painfully, screaming for release, but he refused to toss a complete stranger—a drowning victim, no less—to the bed. No matter how much his lusts demanded he do just that.

  Turning a glare to both of them, Llyr waved at their clothing. He scratched his upper arms and shivered. “How can you wear all that?”

  “Clothes?” Oz asked, frowning. “You don’t… wear clothes?”

  “Heavens no,” Llyr said artlessly. He focused his stare on them, his gaze reflecting some of the same heat Dagr felt. “Why would I? They’d only get all wet.” He
chuckled. “Like yours are now.”

  Oz removed his wet shirt before releasing it to puddle on the floor. Dagr dragged his attention from Oz’s bare chest to see Llyr’s eyebrow arch up with interest.

  Maybe he senses the attraction as well.

  Oz craned his neck to the side and eyed Dagr. “We should get out of these wet things. Before we both catch our death.” He slowly unbuttoned his trousers.

  Dagr caught his breath. He always did when Oz disrobed before him. No matter how many times he’d seen the man naked, it was always a sight to behold. Unable to drag his regard from Oz, he rested back against the door and delighted in seeing both men nude. His heart quickened. A bead of sweat—or was it water from their swim—rolled down his neck.

  When the last piece of Oz’s clothing hit the floor, Dagr looked his fill. Oz was perfection in a whole other way. While he, too, was gorgeous, Oz’s body was strongly built and muscled… hewn from decades of hard work upon ship after ship. Light sprigs of dark, coarse hair dusted over his pecs and arrowed down his belly, toward the thick cock jutting heavily before them. A single drip of cum eased from the head, making Dagr suddenly hungry to taste it once again.

  Oz reached for a fresh pair of breeches from an open chest before gazing over one shoulder at Dagr. Fire lit his eyes, a hunger that nearly made Dagr moan.

  “You’re not going to change?” Oz asked in little more than a heated whisper.

  The sound of it raced up his spine, only adding to the attack against his rapidly dissolving control.

  Dagr cleared his throat. “I have no clothes in here.” And he was not leaving. Not when he had two gorgeous men bare to him…

  “Are all humans crafted in this way?” Llyr asked, his voice low. He approached Oz, his stare on the hard shaft jutting out and seeking attention. “Uncovered and bare?”

  Uncovered? Dagr frowned at Llyr’s question, not truly understanding what the man asked. Of course all men were made the same. Their guest took Oz in hand. A soft moan came from Oz as their guest stroked the hard flesh in his hand.

  His cock stiffened, covetous of the devotion Oz received. It hardened more, tenting his pants—silently screaming to be touched. He ran a hand over the length, trying to will it to stop throbbing so painfully. His eyes fluttered closed for a heartbeat or two, and when he reopened them, all he could see was Llyr’s hand sliding down Oz’s shaft.

  Heaven and hell. He prayed for the moment to end… and for it to continue, ending once they were all three fully sated.

  “It feels the same,” Llyr whispered before his gaze flipped up to meet Oz’s. He opened his mouth a moment, but no words came out. Finally, their guest spoke, stuttering some. “I-I wasn’t sure…I-I mean… how alike we would be.”

  “You keep touching me like that and you’re going to see more than you bargained for,” Oz growled, his voice sounding more animal than human.

  Another thrill raced up Dagr’s spine. He hungered to see Oz claim the man—desperately. Then and there. Even though he realized they both needed a moment to catch their breaths and think about what was happening. It was insane to feel such desire so quickly…

  As if entranced.

  It had to be some kind of spell—yet it didn’t seem like one.

  “What did you mean—how alike we would be?” Dagr asked, fighting for control.

  Llyr took a step back, as if he were frightened. “I’ve never seen a human man naked before,” he murmured. He concentrated on Dagr, eyes wide. “Your skin… is it the only thing different about you? Or is there more?”

  Dagr gawked at the man, a hint of anger filling him. “Of course there’s nothing different about me. I’m exactly as he is.”

  Llyr’s eyes widened. “I meant no offense. I was simply curious.”

  There was no artifice in Llyr’s eyes. Had he truly never seen someone of a different race? Dagr glimmer of anger was brief… it soon faded from him, with lust filling the void it left.

  “I want to see,” Llyr whispered. “Show me.”

  Dear gods. Dagr clenched his jaw, fighting the beastly side of him. He was a gentleman. And even though there were many who assumed he was a savage because of one side of his parentage, the hell if he’d give in and prove them right. “Do you always demand complete strangers show you their nude bodies within moments of meeting them?” Dagr asked.

  Llyr’s face reddened. “No. I’m simply… curious.”

  “Trust me,” Dagr murmured. “I’m no different than Oz.”

  “Oz?”

  “Captain Oswald von König,” Dagr corrected, realizing he’d said too much. “His friends call him Oz.”

  Llyr took a step closer. He regarded Dagr through too-long lashes. “And what do your friends call you, Commander?”

  “Dagr,” he whispered before his brain had time to tell him not to.

  Llyr took another step, closing the gap between them. “It’s a pleasure to meet you… Dagr.”

  Hearing his name slip past Llyr’s lips was like a blow to the chest. Dagr held the man’s intense, shifting gaze and was drawn into it.

  An undertow.

  He was dragged asunder within seconds. Standing there, he drowned in the blue of Llyr’s eyes, unable to catch his breath. Dagr took a step back, needing space.

  Needing to breathe.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw Oz pulling on his trousers. He caught Oz’s stare, needing that to anchor him. A lifeline. He grabbed hold and pulled himself out of the maelstrom of his own need.

  “You need to put some clothing on,” Dagr spat to their guest. Clothes, yes. That would help. It would make it possible for him to think straight again.

  Llyr cocked his head. “Why?”

  “Because you must,” Oz answered, pulling a few items out of his chest. “I can’t have you running around my ship naked. Wear these.”

  Llyr’s stare lingered over Oz a moment before drifting back to Dagr. That stare dipped and he looked down at Dagr’s body before he lifted it to them again. A smile played at his lips before Llyr lifted the lantern before him and sighed with delight. “What is this?”

  Llyr had changed the subject and refocused their attention elsewhere… apparently no longer interested in their nudity—or lack of it. As effectively as being plunged in ice-water, the moment was gone. Dagr had begged for it to stop. To be able to take a breath and think… yet he stood there mourning the loss of Llyr’s ardent devotion.

  “The lantern?” Oz asked.

  “Lantern…” Llyr parroted before he frowned. “What is it that lights it? A star? Can you catch them when they fall?”

  Dagr’s frown grew deeper. The man’s peculiar questions were disquieting. “A star? Do you mean the fire?”

  “The fire,” Llyr whispered slowly before smiling as he watched the flickering flame. He swung the lantern dangerously, and Dagr took a step closer, worry filling him. The thing could easily erupt into flames if the man lacked caution. “The fire is beautiful.”

  Dagr rubbed two fingers together, the word reminding him of the sensation that had coursed through him at Llyr’s touch. Beautiful. He’d called Dagr’s skin beautiful. He cast a glance down at his light brown skin. No one had called it beautiful before. Normally, it was the bane of his existence. His father had supposedly loved his mother—an indigenous princess from a faraway land—but he’d never met either of them. They’d died on the voyage home when he’d been just a babe, leaving him to be raised by a strict set of grandparents who rigidly refused to accept him as a true member of the family.

  Beautiful. The reverence that had been in Llyr’s voice rendered it hard to breathe. He gazed at his hand a moment longer before lifting his stare. A moment of veneration or the emotion it had triggered wasn’t enough to stop the screaming of his logical mind.

  Dead but alive.

  Out in the middle of the sea.

  Swirling eyes.

  Acts as if he’s never seen fire before.

  “What are you?” Dagr asked.


  “A merman,” Llyr answered matter-of-factly.

  A merman.

  Dagr’s incredulous glare went to Oz’s for a moment before he aimed a raised brow to Llyr. “What did you say?”

  “A mer-man… I’m from the ocean.” Llyr coughed slightly, his throat clearly still bothering him—but not enough to stop staring at the lantern.

  For a couple of seconds, silence hung between them at Llyr’s admission.

  “I thought we were allowing him to rest his voice, Dagr?” Oz asked, arching a brow. “He clearly needs the rest.”

  Ignoring his best friend, Dagr scoffed. “A merman. Of course you are. And I’m the King of the Fae.”

  Llyr spun and offered an odd movement that was part curtsy, part bow—Dagr was unsure exactly what the man was doing. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.” He rose back to his full height. “What is Fae? A place? I would very much like to go there and see your world. Are they all as beautiful as you are?”

  Dagr swallowed back the emotion filling him. “Fae are fairies.” When Llyr seemed confused, Dagr continued. “Myths. They aren’t real.” Dagr paused, unsettled by their conversation—or more, the lack of Llyr’s understanding. “I am no king. Just as you are no merman.”

  “Oh, I am a merman,” Llyr answered. He lowered the lantern to the table and closed the gap between them. He lifted his hand to Dagr’s cheek and caressed it—the skin sensually soft. The same jolt of lightning crashed through him at the simplest touch. “I’m real. Can you not feel me?”

  Dagr met Llyr’s intense stare and was lost in it. Again, he was the drowning man. He reached for Llyr’s hand and removed it from his face, fearing he’d be swallowed whole by whatever enchantment the man was weaving around them. “I can feel you, alright. But it proves nothing.”

  Llyr tugged his hand away and pouted before revisiting the lantern. He once again lifted it, seemingly entranced.

  Dagr eyed Oz, whose shock was clear to see.

  Oz ran a hand through his too-long locks, seeming out of sorts. “If you’re a merman, where’s your tail?”

  “It’ll return in seven days,” Llyr said, as he unbolted the small aperture on the lantern that the cabin boy had closed. “Or so the Enchantress said.”