by Jules Jones
Patrick cuddled him. “Just try to relax. George won’t go any further until you’re all right with it.”
“I know.” He wasn’t even that uncomfortable, just being very careful. As was George. “Go on.”
George eased the dildo a little further inside him, and then a little more. The slow, careful pace let him get used to it, leaving him feeling comfortably full rather than scared. Another inch, perhaps, and then it was too much. “That hurts a bit.”
George eased back a little, just enough that he felt all right again, watching his expression. “How’s that?”
“Okay.”
George looked down at the dildo. “I think that’s going to be enough. We’ll leave it for a little while.” Then he bent down even further and kissed Martin’s cock.
“I don’t have a condom on,” he reminded him.
“I’m not going to let you come,” George said, sitting up again to look at him. “Will that be all right without a condom?”
Right there, what he liked about them. Taking charge, but deferring to him on matters where he knew more than they did.
“There’s a small risk for you, but it’s not that high as long as you don’t have any cuts in your mouth.”
“Then if there’s no risk to you, it’s my choice.” George bent down again and gave him a slow, luxurious lick along the length of his cock. It felt wonderful, taking his mind off the bulk filling him without making him too aroused to keep control.
He relaxed and let it happen, content to enjoy the feel of Patrick playing with his nipples and George licking his cock. As his breathing started to settle into a slow, regular rhythm, Patrick murmured, “That’s better.”
George sat up again. He wondered whether this meant another try for a little more depth, but George had something else in mind. He was still holding the dildo in place with one hand, but that left the other free to play with Martin’s balls.
With a human lover that would have left his cock unattended to, but before he could reach for it himself, he felt the pulse of a focused echolocation scan. Waves of pressure pulsed along the length of his cock, finely focused to bring him pleasure without allowing him to come from that alone.
“I’d have liked to watch you suck Martin,” Patrick said wistfully.
“I know, love.” George smiled at Patrick. “But I want him to come as soon as I fuck him, so he needs to be ready but still on his first go.”
Martin put his hand over Patrick’s. “Stop worrying. You’ll have plenty of other times to watch him go down on me.” But he could see that tiny flicker of fear in George’s expression, feel the small stumble in the pressure on his cock before George got control of himself again, and he knew that they were afraid that this might be the last time. Afraid that something would go wrong; that even if he survived the experience, he would be injured.
Or even just afraid that afterwards he would be disgusted, turn away from them.
“I love you. I know what you are, and I want to do this.”
If he hadn’t been watching for it, he wouldn’t have seen the slight easing of tension in George’s face. But they had been afraid, as he had, of a boundary that could be crossed in only one direction.
George’s voice was steady enough as he said, “I’m going to try again. Just relax.” And his hand was steady as he pushed the dildo in a little further.
He could take a little more length this time before it started to feel uncomfortable. Not much, but enough to satisfy George. “That’ll do. If you can take that, you can take me.”
“Now?” Patrick asked.
“Just a little more,” George said. “To the edge, Martin. But warn me if you think you’re going to come.”
The pulsing on his cock was more intense now, almost pounding. He let himself sink into the sensation, feeling nothing now but George’s hand on his balls and George’s supernatural sense on his cock. He was barely aware of anything else, even the feel of Patrick’s body against his.
Hand on his throat, fingers touching the pulse point. Faint sound, Patrick scanning him while George focused on his cock. He heard Patrick say, “Back off a little; he’s almost there,” and then the pressure eased off. Still squeezing him, still massaging his cock as no human hand could quite manage, taking him almost to the brink without risking pushing him over.
“Ready?” George asked.
As ready as he would ever be for this.
George eased the dildo out, leaving him aching for something to replace it. Then George stood up and held out a hand to him. He struggled to his feet.
“Help him with the snorkel,” George said and turned and strode towards the water.
Patrick stood as well and gently urged Martin towards the bag. He heard a splash as he bent to pull out the mask and snorkel. By the time he had turned around, George had changed shape.
Even now they could not bring themselves to change in front of him. It didn’t matter. George had trusted him with everything the day he’d come back to this cave and they had walked as humans out of the water.
He struggled with the mask, and wished that he had practised before doing this. But the mood was right, and he didn’t want to delay. Patrick reached to help him, just as clumsy as he was, and between them they managed to get the straps adjusted. He tried the fit of the snorkel mouthpiece, just to be sure, and then they walked down to the water where George waited for them.
Just before they took that final step into the water lapping against the beach, he asked Patrick, “What about you?”
Patrick shook his head. “I don’t have the self-control. I won’t risk it.”
It didn’t surprise him, but he was glad of it. It was one more reassurance that George wouldn’t even contemplate this unless he thought he could do it safely.
“Let’s do it.”
Patrick nodded and took his hand as they walked into the water.
Cold crept up him as they waded out into water deep enough to take George’s bulk. Cold and wet, but Patrick’s hand warm in his. Patrick saying, “Don’t worry. I’m here with you. Even if the snorkel slips, you won’t ever have to hold your breath longer than it takes me to pull you up.”
Then they had reached the spot George had chosen. Only chest deep, but enough to drown in if they got this wrong.
George rolled over, and Patrick tore open the condom packet he’d carried in his other hand. He rolled it down over George’s cock. It didn’t cover everything, but it covered enough.
No joking, no hearty slaps, not this time. George rolled back over and looked at him. One brief whistle.
“We love you,” Patrick said and kissed him quickly, awkwardly.
He slipped the snorkel into his mouth, took hold of Patrick’s hand again, and before he could think better of the whole bizarre thing, slid under the surface of the water.
He was in a different world. With the mask on he could see clearly, see each pebble on the cave floor beneath him; but sounds had changed dramatically, and there was pressure on his lungs as he tried to breathe. He breathed slowly and carefully for a few seconds, trying to accustom himself to the snorkel. He still had hold of Patrick’s hand, but Patrick put his other hand on his shoulder and pushed gently. He almost panicked, then realised that Patrick was trying to help him overcome his body’s natural buoyancy.
He changed position, trying to lie flat, and Patrick’s hand moved to the small of his back, holding him down under the water without making him feel that he couldn’t move easily if he wanted to. He kept breathing slowly, carefully, and when Patrick squeezed his hand, he squeezed back. This, he could manage.
Current against his skin, something moving in the water. Shadow over him, shadow cast on the floor of the cave below. But a shadow that was merely a slight change in the light levels, not a clear shape. It could have been George in human form, no way to tell.
And then the big body moved into position above him, pressing against him.
He clutched at Patrick’s hand, remembered Patrick
saying, I’m here with you. Patrick was with him; Patrick had bent down in the water to be able to keep hold of his hand, reassure him, and pull him free if necessary. He was safe if he didn’t panic, and they were scanning him, making sure that he was all right. He could feel them doing it.
And then what he felt was George’s cock probing for the opening in his body. Not human, no, but still George. Always George.
George slid smoothly into him and stopped just short of where it would have been uncomfortable. One thrust. A second. And then he heard them talking to each other in that language he couldn’t understand, and Patrick ducked down next to him and grabbed his cock and jerked just as George thrust into him again.
Filled with George’s cock, held by Patrick, he came into the sea that held all three of them.
It felt wonderful. It felt terrible. At the back of his mind was the fear that they’d all three of them misjudged, but he couldn’t stop coming. Not until he was emptied, and then George thrust once more and pulled right out.
The body above him arched; he could feel it in the pressure wave just before Patrick dragged him clear. He could still breathe; he could still hang on to awareness enough to remember that he had to breathe, to keep his snorkel clear. Then he was being held in Patrick’s arms, the snorkel pushed clear, and taking a great gulp of air.
The water behind him churned, and Patrick said, “Shit!”
His heart clenched in fear. They’d been worried about him, but had something happened to George?
He struggled free of Patrick and turned around.
George was back in human shape and striding towards the beach. The reason why was obvious.
Simon was staring at them, his expression a mix of horror and fear.
Chapter Twenty-Six
George had changed shape in front of a human. That told Martin what his state of mind was.
“George! No!” He started after George, but found himself held back by strong arms. He might have fought, but knew that it was no use against Patrick’s strength. All he could do was try to reach George’s mind. “Leave him alone! He’s my friend!”
George slowed and turned to look at him, and he saw what had so terrified Simon. A wild thing with a focused, intense stare. He’d seen that look before, but then it had been from someone utterly intent on mutual pleasure. Now he looked into George’s eyes and saw death.
And then it faded, and it was just George standing on the beach. Not an enraged thing from the sea, but only his lover, looking bewildered and a little scared.
Patrick let go of him, and he scrambled for the beach, tearing off the mask and snorkel as he went, running past George to Simon. Simon was staring at him in shock, his body swaying. Martin grabbed him. “Come and sit down.”
“Martin?”
“Yes. It’s all right, Simon.”
Please let it be all right.
His lovers weren’t human, didn’t have human mores. George had been ready to kill. What of Patrick? Was his hold over them enough?
But Patrick said from behind him, “Go and sit down like Martin says. It’s a long way to carry you if you have a heart attack.” He walked up beside Simon and took hold of his arm. Simon flinched away, and Patrick immediately let go. “I’m not going to hurt you, Simon.” He glanced sideways at Martin, then back at Simon. “He’d never forgive me if I did.”
Simon was still staring at Martin. He tried to gently steer Simon over to the cushions, then thought better of it and just tried to get him over to the cave wall where at least he would have something to lean against.
Simon allowed himself to be led and, when Patrick brought him a cushion, even managed to take it without flinching. But he still looked pale, and Martin could hear the faint sound of an echolocation scan.
“You saw, didn’t you?” Patrick asked, very gently.
“W-what ...” Simon stammered. “W-was ... was that dolphin fucking you?”
“You saw more than that,” Patrick said.
Simon looked past them.
“I’m sorry,” George said, his voice desolate. “All I can say is that you startled me.”
The last thing Simon needed right now was George. And there was something useful George could be doing. “That bottle of brandy you had for medicinal purposes. Go and get it.” Patrick was right; it would be a long way to carry Simon if he had a heart attack, and having a drink to focus on might help him.
“All right.”
He didn’t turn to watch George leave, but could see that he had gone by Simon’s expression. There was silence for a long moment. Then Simon turned to Patrick. “There were two dolphins. You’re the other one, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
At least Patrick didn’t try to lie about it. There was no point, not if Simon had actually seen George change.
Simon grabbed hold of Martin’s shoulder. “You let me think ...” he accused.
“I’m sorry.” Guilt stabbed at him. “But even if I’d been willing to betray their trust -- would you have believed me? I didn’t believe it, not at first.”
“The day of the storm.”
He owed Simon all of it. No holding back now. “The day of the storm, two dolphins dragged me in here, and then two men walked out of the water, made a pass at me, and then looked after me when they realised I was ill.” He glanced at Patrick and found him listening intently. “I thought I was hallucinating. There wasn’t anywhere they could have come from, and when they actually said that they’d brought me here, that confirmed it.”
“So you didn’t lie to me that day.”
“I never wanted to lie to you, Simon. But you’d have thought I was crazy. And they were scared.”
Patrick said, “I didn’t think we should show ourselves to him. But George ... he’s lonely, and I’m not enough. He needs people to talk to, and the beach was never enough for him. Martin talked to us, before he ever knew what we were.”
“When did you know?” Simon asked him.
“The day I went to find them again.”
Simon looked Patrick over. “And all that time ... when we went out in the boat and had dolphins for company, that was you. No wonder the damned animals understood English.” His voice rose. “Damned is the word for it. What the fuck are you?”
“Not monsters,” Patrick said meekly.
“Maybe not, but your cousin looked as if he was ready to kill me. Is he your cousin?”
Patrick nodded.
“And all that stuff about your background --”
“Is almost true.” Patrick settled himself down on the sand cross-legged. “The dolphin women don’t really like adult men hanging around. The dolphin men don’t do it, so the changer men shouldn’t either. So we go home to Mum on high days and holidays.”
Simon shook his head and then buried his face in his hands. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation,” he whispered.
Martin eased around to sit next to Simon and put his arm around him. “I really am sorry, Simon. I would have told you if I could.”
Simon didn’t answer, but didn’t pull away. After a moment, Patrick moved to sit on the other side of him, and they sat in silence until George came back with a cup and the bottle of brandy.
George knelt down and handed the cup to Martin, then poured a measure of brandy. “Enough?”
“Yes.” He didn’t want Simon drunk, just sedated a little. He held the cup in front of Simon. “Simon?”
Simon looked up and took the cup, though his hand was shaking. He took a gulp of brandy, choked a little, then took another sip, watching George all the while.
At least George seemed to be back in control of himself. “What the hell was that all about? I know you’re scared of being caught by humans, but hurting Simon?” Simon, who had welcomed them into his home even when he’d thought them tramps? “I thought Patrick was the one with no self-control.” Maybe Patrick had held him back because Patrick had also been scared by George’s behaviour.
“I ...” George fid
dled with the bottle, putting the cork back in, then sat back. “I had to keep total control. I wanted so badly to come, but I had to keep control and pull out. And I did, and then I looked up and saw Simon. And he knew what we were doing; I could see it even before he started shouting at me.”
He’d been under the water. He hadn’t heard it. Patrick probably hadn’t, either.
“And then he started running towards me, and I couldn’t hold it any longer. I had to change, or risk hurting you if Patrick didn’t drag you free. And I was too wound up ... It was only when you shouted at me that I quite realised that it was Simon.” George cautiously reached out a hand towards Simon. “I’m sorry.”
“And if Martin hadn’t been there to stop you?” Simon snarled.
“If Martin hadn’t been there, I would never have been in that state in the first place.”
Simon turned to look at him. “God. Is this what you’ve been doing with them?”
“No. It was the first time.” And maybe the last, given the way George seemed to be almost as scared by his own behaviour as Simon was. “But it doesn’t matter whether it was.” As he said it, he realised that it didn’t matter. Whatever they were, they weren’t mere animals. And they tried to be decent people, as best as they knew how. “Simon, how did you get in here?”
“I finished early, so I thought I’d come and have a look at the house. You were here, so I didn’t think it would be a problem for George and Patrick.” Simon glared at George. “Now I know why they don’t like people asking them questions.”
“But we locked the door,” Patrick said.
“Simon’s got a set of spare house keys for emergencies,” George reminded him. “And we forgot to lock the quarry door.”
“You were obviously around somewhere, because the Land Rover was out the front. But nobody answered when I called, and I couldn’t see you in any of the ground-floor rooms. And you’d said you were leaving the upper floor until after the builder came.” Simon ran his hands through his hair. “I thought you’d probably just gone for a walk, but I was a little bit worried, so I let myself in. When I checked the cellar, I saw the passage door and remembered what Mr Parker said about a quarry. I thought you might be down there, and when I saw the stairs, I realised that it might go down to the cave this pair had lived in.” He shrugged. “All right. I was nosy. I thought I’d take a quick look.”