—
Mick wasn’t the biggest fan of sea travel—he’d done it once before meeting Cal and it hadn’t been a great experience—but it sure as hell beat being cooped up in one small room that didn’t even have a window. The endless ocean was slightly unnerving, but after the cell the demons had kept him and Wes in, he could look at it for hours.
Maybe not hours, but a few minutes, in passing as he wandered around to stretch his legs. It was nice to have somewhere to walk, and to not be in a warded room where he couldn’t use his magic, and to not be living in constant anxiety that the demon named Tabitha was going to show up again and drag him—or worse, Wes—away for something awful.
All in all, Mick thought, being free was better than being imprisoned. A definite step up. Something he’d recommend to all his friends and family.
He was sitting near the stern of the ship behind some crates, watching the white water move in the wake of the large vessel. It was about as close to privacy as one got on a ship, so Mick sat here from time to time just to have a few minutes to think.
He’d had his few minutes this time when he heard rapid footsteps, then what was pretty distinctly the sound of someone sniffing. A moment later, Darby poked his head around the side of the crates, waving at Mick. There you are.
You were looking for me? Mick signed, smiling. He liked the werewolf, and honestly felt worse for him than he did for himself or Wes or Travis. He wasn’t a little boy, but he was definitely younger than they were and he’d suffered the same thing as them—maybe for longer. Darby wasn’t sure how long the demons had had him, or at least he claimed not to be.
Darby nodded, coming and sitting in front of Mick, his huge shirt—one of Owen’s—pooled around his legs as he did. Absently, he reached behind and lifted up the back to free his tail, which wagged lazily. Mick had never really been sure if he was supposed to believe in stories of werewolves up north when he’d heard them before, but Darby pretty much proved them all true. I wanted to thank you. For helping me.
You’re welcome, Mick signed. I’m glad you’re okay. It was better to put it that way rather than asking it as a question. The immediacy with which Darby had latched onto Owen said something about how Darby was feeling, Mick thought, but he wasn’t sure what. It might just have been that attaching himself to someone who seemed strong made him feel safe, or it might have been something else.
Another nod, and Darby inched a little closer. I want to do something for you.
You don’t have to, Mick signed. He didn’t want Darby feeling like he owed them something—you didn’t save someone from demons and then expect them to pay you back. I’m just glad you’re safe.
No, Darby insisted. Let me pay you back, please?
Mick watched him, the determined set of his shoulders. Saying no would just upset him. Fine, he sighed. If you really want to. What were you planning? It wasn’t like Darby had anything to give Mick except that boot knife he’d gotten from Owen, which he wasn’t likely to part with. Even the shirt he was wearing wasn’t his.
Darby’s face split into a grin and he practically leapt forward, reaching for Mick, and it took Mick a second too long to realize Darby was aiming for his belt. “Wait, Darby…” But of course Darby didn’t hear him and he was looking down so he wouldn’t see any signs Mick made. He made quick work of Mick’s belt and pulled his pants open, reaching in without fear and grabbing Mick by the dick, pulling it out into the air. Mick put his hand on Darby’s face, tilting it up. What are you doing?
Darby just grinned wider and looked back down, opening his mouth and trying to swallow Mick’s cock.
“Fuck,” Mick muttered, shuddering a little at the feeling. Darby sucked on him enthusiastically and not completely inexpertly. He wasn’t good at it, but Mick had a feeling he’d at least done it before. Mick just hoped it had been with some friend back home and not with a demon in the fortress.
He tried to push Darby off, but Darby was resolute and stayed in place, strong for his size. Maybe it was a werewolf thing. Mick was hard in his mouth now and he’d been forced to pull back a little so he didn’t choke, but was still going on Mick’s dick like nobody’s business.
Mick sighed. He obviously really wanted to do this, and well, it wasn’t like Mick didn’t like it. So he stopped trying to push Darby off and let him do it, closing his eyes.
Darby settled into a nice rhythm, moving his head up and down, lips sealed around Mick, rubbing all the bumps on Mick’s dick as he went, which sent shocks through him. Darby’s teeth touched him on occasion, but he always pulled them back, his mouth as wide open as it could be. He mostly sucked, forgoing the use of his tongue or not thinking to do it, and he held Mick in his right hand, squeezing the parts of his dick that he couldn’t fit into his mouth.
When Mick started to get close to cumming, he tried to tap Darby’s head to let him know—as far as he knew that sign was universal in this situation—but Darby either didn’t know it or didn’t care, and he kept sucking until Mick, trying to be quiet, started to shoot in his mouth.
Maybe he hadn’t known, because Darby seemed surprised, lifting his head a little, keeping only the tip of Mick’s cock in his mouth. But he swallowed, dogged determination in his eyes even as cum ran down his chin.
He kept sucking a few seconds after Mick was finished as if trying to get it all, but then he pulled off, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, still grinning like he’d had some huge success.
Darby looked so pleased with himself that Mick couldn’t help but laugh, wiping some stray cum from Darby’s face. Thank you, he signed.
Did you like it? Was it good?
Yes, Mick promised. Really good.,
Darby jumped on Mick, hugging him. His tail was wagged up a storm. Then he pulled back, standing, a tent in Owen’s shirt. Thank you.
Mick shook his head. I’d have saved you anyway. I’m glad you’re safe. Do you want help with that? he asked, pointing at the tent.
Nope! I’ll do it! Now we’re even! Darby declared, and with that, he ran off, tail still wagging.
Mick snorted once he was alone again, and put himself back inside his clothes. Part of him wanted to think that werewolves were weird, but another part of him was pretty sure that was all Darby.
At least Mick knew he was okay.
—
How Best to Use a Sword 