Chapter Seven

 

 

 

Merritt sat against a rock eating an apple picked from a tree on the outskirts of Gremma’s property. Now that his faculties were returning to him he could see the almost invisible, shimmery web that she or, more likely, Fortunata had cast on the ground and trees. He doubted it was the work of Gremma because she’d been surprised to find Cillian lying dead on the ground.

“But there is nothing here that would ever harm an animal,” she’d told Fortunata.

Now that he saw the invisible force field, Merritt knew his favorite horse’s death had not been the result of poisoning. The apple Elvin had given Merritt hadn’t been tainted and the cut inflicted on Cillian hadn’t led to his death. The force field had killed him, but what evil, potent magic had been in it to inflict such harm? He sighed, relieved at least that Elvin hadn’t plotted Merritt’s death.

Fortified once more, Merritt moved forward, determined to grab the cloak, confront Gremma and finally end his sister’s cruel practices. He swayed suddenly and blinked.

It’s Denny. I think he’s here. The knowledge both pleased and frightened him. Denny was close. They’d been so far apart, and yet, he would go on trial, and with the bizarre jury running the court these days he could hang before nightfall, or be kept in leg irons for months.

He hurried toward Gremma’s house. He flicked a hand toward the bewitched land but nothing moved. Still cursed. Damn. I need the cloak. I must tear it apart to destroy its power. Merritt took a few more steps and heard ragged sobs. Following the sound, he took care to be quiet. Merritt was stunned when he saw Gremma sitting, sprawled on the ground, examining her face in a green, handheld mirror. She looked even more decrepit, and older than she had the day before, but in the mirror, she was young and beautiful again.

“Merritt,” she breathed, lifting a tearstained face up to him.

“Gremma.” In spite of all that had happened between them, in spite of all the rotten things she’d done over the years, he pitied her. “I can save you.”

Her eyes shone, tears still leaking down her face.

“But you must do everything I tell you to do, and when it’s done, you must leave this island.”

“Leave?” She looked shocked.

“Leave,” he repeated. “Forever.”

She looked surprised, then wary and angry. Another wart sprouted on her hand. She gave a little shriek. “I’ll do it. I’ll do whatever you say, only make this stop,” she begged.

“Where is my sister?” he asked, dropping beside Gremma.

“I haven’t seen her. She disappeared yesterday, and then this happened.” She dropped the mirror in her lap and opened the top button of the coat she was wearing. Oozing, green sores appeared all over her neck. “Are you sure you can save me?”

Lightning crackled overhead.

Merritt glanced up at the sky and smiled. “I think my sister just realized your magic is not only failing, but coming back to hurt her. Twofold.”

 

* * * *

 

The La-Di-Da

A year earlier…

 

Denny wasn’t sure when Fortunata first became aware of the growing, gentle romance between Denny and Merritt, but he was convinced that she sensed it. She took to making sure the two men had little time alone together. The few private moments they shared were spent uttering words and sharing kisses Denny had never exchanged with anyone, especially another man. He’d had plenty of sex, but had never dared lay his soul bare with another. The times he and Merritt were together and unable to touch were agony for both of them. As soon as Fortunata or whoever was with them would leave, Merritt would whisper, “Kiss me, please.”

His hands would shake and his lips would tremble as they shared soul embraces Denny had never dreamed were possible. He began to have vivid dreams of a life he’d never allowed himself, a kind of happiness he’d imagined would always be denied him because of his sexual preferences. He made no secret of his homosexuality, but didn’t flaunt it either.

They’d been at sea two weeks when Merritt started walking on deck. His first attempts were pathetic, by his own admission. Denny admired his sense of humor and determination. The entire crew was stunned by his marked improvements.

“I’m a better doctor than I thought,” Fellows kept telling everyone.

Whenever he went on this way, Fortunata glared at him. Denny put it down to sheer possessiveness. She loved Merritt with such an obsession that it continued to scare Denny. When she would turn around and be sweet to him again, he’d experience extreme feelings of guilt for being suspicious of her.

As the days went by and Merritt grew stronger, he wanted to help with ship duties. Nobody would let him, but everybody admired his fighting spirit. It turned out he was an expert mapmaker, but told Denny that when the boat he’d shared with his sister and two cousins had been hijacked, all his maps and tools had been destroyed.

Denny showed him a map of the Caribbean, hoping Merritt could show him his island home off the coast of Honduras. Merritt just smiled. “It’s not on any map,” he said, not even glancing at Denny’s well-marked papers. “But trust me, it’s there. Doriana is a paradise.”

Denny stared at him. Fortunata had called the island Soriano, but Merritt called it Doriana. Were they both…cuckoo? Or had Denny misheard her the first time Fortunata mentioned it?

He leaned toward the latter. After all, they’d been under extreme survival conditions and the two names were close. Weren’t they? And yet, questions persisted and niggled at him.

Merritt was a hearty eater who endured plates of raw peppers and slightly cooked broccoli with a stoic air. Fellows had done some research in the musty old textbooks he’d inherited when the crew had taken over the ship. He told Denny and Merritt that doctors prescribed the addition of fried seal meat to a scurvy patient’s diet, but the idea horrified both Merritt and Denny.

“I’m fine with everything I’m already eating. Honest!” Merritt insisted.

“But seals are delicious,” Fellows said, clearly disappointed. He gave Denny a bleak look that might have said, ‘First no leeches. Now this.’

With Merritt’s improved health, shipboard dinners became entertaining affairs with different crewmembers performing each night. Fortunata had a wonderful voice and sang beautiful, haunting love songs, but nothing beat Merritt’s plaintive Oh, Tell Me How from Love to Fly. Denny thought he was listening to an angel.

“Oh, tell me how from love to fly, its dangers how to shun. To guard the heart, to shield the eye, or I must be undone!” Merritt sang the lyrics with a soul-tearing heartbreak that left everyone silent. He seemed to be staring right at Denny, who glanced away when Fortunata narrowed her gaze and glared at him.

Rigby was in the mood for laughter and began singing the rousing chorus from Drunken Sailor. He would have gone on until morning screaming, “What shall we do with the drunken sailor?” over and over again. He would have knocked back more shots of rum, had he not got kicked by one of the crewmen and keeled over in the midst of laughter. He had then fallen into a merciful, silent sleep. Denny and Fellows carried him to his cabin, Merritt and Fortunata right behind them. From the sounds of muted laugher, the others had continued drinking in comparative quiet.

“Is he always like that?” Fortunata asked with a haughty air, staring daggers at the snoozing Rigby.

“One sniff of the barmaid’s skirt and he’s impossible.” Fellows rolled his eyes.

“Well, we wish you goodnight,” Fortunata responded.

Merritt echoed her words, his gaze fastened on Denny. His sister pulled him by the arm, leading him away. Denny and Fellows paused for breath. Fellows huffed as they dragged Rigby to the quarterdeck, where he lived with the other ship’s officers.

As they pulled off Rigby’s boots and outer garments, Rigby unleashed a sort of mad giggle and sang, “What do we do with…” before falling asleep again in the middle of the chorus.

“Is it just me or does he pong?” Fellows’ nose twitched.

“Aye, he needs a bath,” Denny agreed, sliding into an immediate panic.

Fellows scrunched his nose and gave a shudder. “How does he breathe in his own fumes?”

Denny shrugged, privately fretting. What if he himself needed a bath? He raced to his cabin to bathe before going to visit Merritt to wish him a goodnight. Cold water and soap from a basin was a small improvement, especially when he rinsed out the water three times until it almost ran clear, but he felt he needed something more, especially since he was putting back on the same clothing. He tiptoed back to Rigby’s cabin where his second mate was snoring in bed like a hibernating bear. Denny borrowed Rigby’s proudest purloined item in life, a bottle of the French perfumer Farina’s Eau de Cologne. It had belonged to a British officer whose private quarters had been ransacked by Denny and his crew when his sloop had been moored at the Port of Antwerp in Belgium.

The cologne had a distinctive, pungent scent. People said that Napoleon loved the stuff. Wait. He didn’t exactly have a happy ending… As Denny dabbed a bit on his face and under his armpits, worried thoughts crossed his mind. Yeah, but look what happened to him. People also said the cologne came from the town where the water was supposed to be strong enough to ward off the bubonic plague. I hope so. Not that I’m expecting to get that any time soon. Not getting bitten by any rats today, thank you…

He returned the bottle to Rigby’s cabin then went back to his own quarters, checking his appearance in the cracked hand mirror he’d pinched in the raid on the British sloop. Denny thought he looked okay, though his head itched something fierce. Then his chin prickled. Denny scratched at it, dismayed because it seemed that the finer things in life just weren’t meant for him. The sensation grew worse so he washed his face and head, his hair still dripping a little as he went off to visit Merritt.

Merritt was still sleeping in the sickbay even though he had most of his meals with the others. He lay in bed staring up at the ceiling, bolting upward when Denny entered the room.

“She’s coming back,” Merritt whispered. He sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?” His eyes widened. “Why did you come here wearing cologne? You can’t even kiss me now. She’ll know!” The desolate expression on his face did more for Denny’s self-esteem than all the kisses in the world.

He likes me. He really does. Denny did an inward jig. “’Tis no matter. I wanted to see you. Where did she go?”

Merritt kept sniffing. “You’ve bathed.” He looked surprised.

“Um, yeah.” Denny frowned. Boy, I must have needed it worse than I thought.

Merritt plumped up his pillows so that he was half sitting and half lying back on his bunk. “She’s in her cabin mixing some herbal concoction for me. They always taste terrible but they do work.”

Denny was afraid to ask what was in these concoctions and he hoped she wasn’t planning on coming back anytime soon, but seconds later she was there. She smiled when she saw that Denny was nowhere near her brother.

“Ah, Captain,” she said, her tone a warm purr. Boy, does she know how to manipulate and charm me. Calling me captain… “I would have brought you a tonic had I known you’d be here.” She turned to her brother. “Drink up, darling. This will soothe your liver.”

Merritt sat up straighter and took the cup she offered him. Denny stared at it. It looked as though it was made of gold. Where had she found it? She’d come on board the La-Di-Da with nothing. Or had she? I have to get into her cabin and look at the stuff she’s using to mix her potions.

Denny loitered for a few minutes but finally excused himself. He returned to his cabin, exhausted. Stripping off most of his clothes, he kept his vest and undergarments on then threw himself into bed. The ship’s cat, Theodore, came out from under the bed and joined him. Denny loved that cat more than anyone or anything else in the world, except Merritt, and he let the orange tabby snuggle beside him. Theodore was a funny cat. He wasn’t particularly affectionate but liked snuggling and would purr for half an hour upon close contact with Denny. I think I do the same thing with Merritt, come to think of it.

Within minutes, Denny was asleep but also aware of strange, unsettling dreams that left him restless in bed. He was aware of the cabin door opening and, unable to open his eyes for some reason, realized it was Merritt getting into bed with him. Theodore was not pleased, but soon, with Merritt stroking his fur, the cat purred loudly. The sound would have been a fine early-warning alarm.

“He never lets me touch him,” Denny murmured, trying hard to rouse himself awake, but he couldn’t.

Merritt chuckled then leaned across the cat and kissed Denny’s cheek. He spooned Denny, rubbed his head until Denny fell asleep, the cat kept purring between them.

Denny had the most beautiful dreams of his life but awakened early only to find Merritt and the cat leaving the cabin. Denny couldn’t say anything about Merritt. He was obviously worried about his sister finding his empty bed. But the cat! What a little traitor! Denny got out of bed and, for the first time ever aboard ship, took stock of his dirty clothes and realized all of them were filthy. His biggest single regret had been to eliminate the laundry detail on board the La-Di-Da. It had become everybody’s personal responsibility to care for their own clothing. Some of the crew liked to drag their clothes through the ocean water, or wait for the times they docked in port. They were running low on everything, including tanks of water, so they couldn’t arrive in Puerto Rico soon enough, except… If Merritt and his sister left the ship, as was Fortunata’s plan, then Denny would never see him again.

He swallowed over the lump in his throat and scratched his head. He’d been all right through the night, but now the itching was worse. He tugged at his scalp and felt something moving. He jumped in fright when a knock came at the door.

“Yes?” he called out.

It was Sorenson. He entered the cabin, rubbing at his own head. “Sorry, sir, but Arthur Fellows wants to see you. He says we have a bad case of nits on board and everyone needs their head shaved.”

“Thank you,” Denny said. Nits. Well. It was better than the plague. Up on the deck, Denny found everyone shaving each other’s heads. The only one who wouldn’t submit was Fortunata.

“I drink a tonic. I have no nits and neither does my brother,” she said, stomping below deck with Merritt in tow.

Nobody said a word and from the apprehensive looks on everyone’s faces, Denny saw that he wasn’t the only one who was terrified of her.

Later that day, Denny returned to the laundry to retrieve a few of the things he’d left there to dry. Sorenson and Rigby were there whispering to each other.

“What’s going on?” Denny asked them as the two men exchanged dark looks.

“The tanks were near empty this morning and now they’re full,” Rigby said. “Funny things happen whenever she’s in a room.”

It didn’t surprise Denny to hear this. He shrugged. “Well, we are still a few days away from Puerto Rico, so let’s not look gift horses in mouths, shall we?”

Neither Rigby nor Sorenson seemed happy, but Denny determined not to start rumors and unpleasantness even if he was beginning to suspect Fortunata of some kind of sorcery. If she practiced her…whatever it was…for the greater good, he could deal with a little magic, as long as she didn’t put warts on his nose or boils on his bottom. He had a feeling that in spite of how nice she sometimes could be, she would be the type of person to resort to petty vengeance. And Denny loathed boils and warts.

For two days, Fortunata was so lovely, Denny’s worries about her seemed unfounded. He was delighted she was being so nice to him. It made Merritt happy. In fact, Fortunata complimented Denny and even flirted with him. She made him porridge on the third day, and the little black dots decorating the surface turned out to be plump little raisins.

“But where did you get them?” Denny asked, moaning in appreciation as he demolished three bowls of porridge.

“In the galley,” she said, which appeared to be astonishing news to Sorenson.

Like every other man on board, however, Sorenson feared Fortunata and said, “I might need a monocle soon. I swear my eyesight’s getting worse.”

When the La-Di-Da neared the port of San Juan in Puerto Rico, Merritt jumped overboard with some of the crew and frolicked in the ocean with them. Denny realized Fortunata was wearing a new dress and a ruby-red cloak. He wondered where these had come from but was too afraid of her to ask.

She stood beside Denny, smiling as they watched the men get ready to drop anchor. Out of nowhere, a large reef shark appeared and headed right for Merritt. Quick as a wink, she took her hand out of the folds of her cloak and pointed a finger at the shark. Denny gasped, shocked by the long, withered, crooked talon she used. He blinked and her finger seemed normal again.

Denny shook his head. I have got to stop imagining things.

The shark swam away with none of the men in the water aware of the apparent close call. With Denny having to check in with the shipping clerks at the port, and all the things that needed to be replenished, he didn’t go ashore straight away. Fellows accompanied Merritt and Fortunata to a local monastery, which had an adjoining hospital. Late in the afternoon, Denny went ashore and checked in with the postal clerk, anxious for any messages regarding his sister. Nothing. Swallowing his disappointment, he went in search of Merritt and Fortunata. He spied Foster, Rigby, and Sorenson drinking at a table outside of a taverna in the Plaza de San José, a popular meeting place for locals and visitors. He waved at them, but they seemed deep in conversation, and it didn’t seem like a happy one either. He bumped into Fellows, who appeared to be in a rush. “Just meeting the lads for a drink,” he said.

“What about our patient?”

“The doctors gave young Merritt a thorough examination and he received a clean bill of health. Both Merritt and his sister have chosen to stay at the monastery for now. They may or may not join us when we depart on Wednesday.”

He must have noticed Denny’s shocked expression because he said, “She wants a bath and they have plenty of hot water and soap. Merritt was resting last I looked.”

“Okay.” Denny felt discouraged. He hated the idea of leaving them here. Well, Merritt more than Fortunata.

He tried not to feel left out that his crewmembers had not invited him to join them for a drink. A little restless, he went and got a proper shave at one of the many barber shops in the village. He enjoyed being pampered with nice-smelling shave soap and lavender water to soothe and tone the skin afterward. He knew the barber from previous visits to San Juan but never understood a word the man said. He just let him ramble, and lay back in his chair with burning hot towels strewn across his face.

When it was time to leave, Denny was anxious to get back to the ship. He knew only too well what he and his own crew had done on many occasions. Ransacking other moored ships had always seemed like a laugh, but not when it was being done to his vessel. He sat up when the barber removed the towels and patted the lavender water onto his cheeks.

I smell like a Madge, but I guess, since I am one, I shouldn’t mind. He counted out a generous stash of gold coins to the barber, whose eyes lit up with joy, and that was when Denny noticed a small boy peering around the entrance of the barbershop. As soon as his gaze connected with Denny’s, the child vanished.

How odd. I don’t think I know him.

As he walked back to the ship, the little boy kept darting around buildings and finally beckoned to Denny. Denny pointed to his chest as if to ask, ‘Me?’

The boy nodded and beckoned to him again. They passed the monastery, where bells rang and male voices lifted in a beautiful, hypnotic chant. Around more corners and up a long, long flight of stairs, Denny followed the child, who entered what looked like a belfry, and there, wearing a long white tunic, stood Merritt, smiling at him.

Denny counted out a generous amount of coins for the child, who looked ecstatic.

“Gracias, señor!” he shouted, almost dropping some of the coins. They filled both his hands and it didn’t seem as though the boy had any pockets or a purse.

He took off, a smile spearing his face from cheek to cheek.

“I’ve missed you,” Merritt said, disarming Denny.

Denny’s ears burned with pleasure and acute embarrassment. “You’ve only been gone a few hours.”

“Longer than that. All day.” Merritt sighed. “We don’t have much time and I need you.”

“I…ah… Oh.” Nothing intelligible came out of Denny’s mouth. He gratefully accepted Merritt’s forthrightness as he stepped forward and claimed Denny’s lips in an almost violent kiss that left them both breathless. They broke apart then kissed again, their embrace growing more tender.

“I want to stay with you tonight, but my sister wants me back at the monastery. I promise you we will be on board before your ship leaves.” He kissed Denny again. He stepped back and put his hands on Denny’s arms. “I want to try something. Do you trust me?”

Denny had no idea what that was supposed to mean. “Trust you with what?”

“Could you bring yourself to trust me?” Merritt repeated.

“I—I think I already do.” Denny couldn’t deny the passion, the obsession he had for this man. And yes, he did trust him.

Merritt pushed himself away from Denny. He crossed the room and walked over to a large, lacquered wooden cabinet in the far corner. The sun was starting to set, but the light was still pleasant and soft. As he waited, Denny took in his surroundings for the first time. The room was sparse, yet oddly intimate. A large bed with what looked like fresh, crisp white linens stood at one end, a chair beside it, upon which somebody had placed a jar filled with red roses. From somewhere, a faint wind made the thin white curtains billow in the room.

Denny glanced over at Merritt, who approached him again, hands behind his back. “Close your eyes, Denny.” His voice was low and husky.

Denny did as he’d been told. He was stunned, but thrilled that Merritt was taking control this way. Merritt came up behind him, his voice as seductive as a feather stroke against Denny’s neck and chin.

“Denny.” Merritt pressed his body into Denny’s, who delighted at the hardness of Merritt’s cock against his ass. Merritt placed a tender kiss on Denny’s nape then moved around to stand in front of him.

Once again, an eager Denny gave himself up to Merritt’s succulent kisses, luxuriating in the way he moved his mouth all over Denny’s face. Denny leaned into him, yearning for closer contact. He was hard, so hard for Merritt, whose tongue swept across Denny’s lips as he began to undress him.

“You’re wearing lavender water. It smells much better,” Merritt whispered. “She’ll think I stopped at a barber shop.”

Denny caught a glimpse of a bundle of silky red rope in Merritt’s hand. “What’s that?” he asked, reaching for it. He knew, though, just knew before even touching it that it was hemp rope. He’d seen enough of it as a child in the workhouse. He could close his eyes and still feel the coarse strands, but this rope was smooth.

“I hope it’s something you’ll never forget.” Merritt gave him such a dazzling smile, Denny became aroused beyond belief.

Merritt unspooled the rope, taking hold of a length of it. He kissed Denny again, holding his arms up to lower the rope behind Denny’s back. Merritt held the rope tight, pulling Denny closer to him. Again he wound the rope around their entwined bodies, bringing them closer still. Then he released the open end and moved behind Denny, whispering, “I am a nawashi.”

“What does that mean?” Denny had many fantasies about tying up handsome, captive princes and making mad passionate love to them, but had never even come close to trying it. He’d never even thought about being the one to be tied up. He’d always feared being tied up and not being able to escape if trouble came along. Buggery was, after all, a crime in his own country, but in many other places around the world it seemed more acceptable. And his experiences so far had been fast and furtive. But Merritt, his meek, sweet little Merritt, seemed to have become possessed by some ancient god of lust. His commanding attitude was so alluring Denny feared he might come before Merritt had finished removing his clothes.

Merritt remained behind Denny, making a knot in the rope Denny knew well.

“Some call it a cock’s comb,” Merritt murmured in his ear.

“Aye. And I know it as a ringbolt hitch. We use it all the time on the ship.”

Merritt grunted. “Not like this you don’t.” He spun Denny around to face him and the knot loosened.

Denny looked down, fascinated to see that the knot had vanished. “What happened? Did you change your mind?” Denny asked, working hard to hide his disappointment.

“I haven’t even started with you yet, Captain Dalton.” Merritt claimed Denny’s mouth once more.

They undressed each other, kicking their shoes off, their lips colliding again. Merritt was as hard as Denny, but when Denny tried to touch him, Merritt pulled back, walking around Denny again.

“I want to introduce you to kinbaku-bi, the little-known art of beautiful bondage. I learned all about it from some Japanese sailors.” Merritt trailed the bundle of rope along Denny’s bare shoulders. “I could inflict pain and torture on you if I choose, but I never will. I want there to be mutual joy, but also the knowledge that we could hurt each other mentally and physically, but we won’t.”

The expression in his eyes both thrilled and terrified Danny, who swallowed, not sure about any of it, but knowing he wanted to experience this erotic pleasure. Merritt knew some complicated rope-tying. Denny knew some himself and hoped to reciprocate, then remembered what Merritt had been through on the other ship. Gone, however, was the frightened, starving prisoner. This new Merritt was confident and sensual as he nudged Denny into position.

Merritt tied Denny’s arms and folded them so that his arms were crossed, his hands resting on his shoulders, as though Denny was praying. He was actually ready to beg for Merritt’s touch, and didn’t have to wait long for it. Merritt tied Denny tightly enough that Denny couldn’t move his hands. It was maddening when he yearned to stroke Merritt’s skin.

When Merritt, though, moved his fingers along every crevice of Denny’s body then gave Denny’s cock and balls a swift swipe with his tongue, Denny broke out in a sweat but could only wiggle back and forth when Merritt pushed him back onto the bed. Merritt wound the rope around Denny’s cock and balls, pulled up the binding, making the last knot at a sensitive spot near Denny’s groin. It was torture. Delicious, sweet torture. Pain and pleasure flew through Denny’s body as Merritt knelt beside him, his cock rigid.

“You see what you do to me?” Merritt reached down and ran his hand along Denny’s feverish brow.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Denny croaked.

Merritt lay beside him, running his hands over Denny’s damp body once more. Merritt kept drawing out the pleasure, stroking Denny’s tethered cock, kissing him feverishly. Denny pulled against the ropes, anxious for closer contact. Merritt kissed and licked his way down Denny’s body, reaching between Denny’s legs.

“Oh, yes!” Denny opened his thighs for Merritt’s hand, beads of intense sweat peppering his face and chest as Merritt delved first one, then two fingers into Denny’s asshole.

Merritt stroked, just a little, letting Denny feel the pressure in his arms again as Merritt picked up the rope leading from Denny’s torso to his ball sac. He pulled and tightened the hold. Denny gasped, hardly able to breathe as he silently begged for Merritt to touch his cock again. Merritt grunted, reaching down and unleashing a long lick on Denny’s hot cock. Denny struggled for composure as Merritt sucked him. Denny couldn’t think straight. All he wanted was Merritt’s mouth. And the rope-ties that kept him bound. Merritt pulled again, and the tension in Denny’s arms intensified. Denny felt the roaring pulse of his orgasm tear through his body. Heat rose between them, Merritt sucking on Denny once more. When Denny got too close to coming, he came off his cock and, using Denny’s juices, readied Denny’s ass.

All Denny could do was move around, trying to get Merritt’s sweet cock inside him, muttering, “Please, please.” Denny thought he was losing his mind because Merritt was taking so long to move between Denny’s legs.

“I tied you too well. You’re so tight,” Merritt said, trying to work his way into Denny.

“Do it! Fuck me. Now!”

And Merritt did.

Denny loved the heft of Merritt’s body on top of his. Denny’s entire being rejoiced at the fucking he took from Merritt. They rocked and bucked, Denny unable to hold Merritt in his arms, but they came hard and fast. Merritt buried deep inside Denny, the rope falling slack in his hand. The knot at Denny’s groin produced wave after wave of pleasure as his trapped cock erupted between their trembling bodies.

Merritt whispered Denny’s name and collapsed on top of him. He let out a loud groan. “And to think, this will only get better with time.” Merritt unwound the ropes as lovingly as he’d tied them.

At long last, Denny was able to reach for Merritt, holding him in his arms as Denny’s lavender water scented the darkening night air. They dozed on and off, drinking in every moment together that they could, Denny wishing this night would last forever.