4 Captured by a Pirate King #3
"Well, fuck," he said to no-one in particular, and settled on the open window sill. Clearly his only option would be to apply himself to the remedy he'd seen other bipeds take when faced with the same inflammation to their third legs.
Undoing his trews, Silverfin wiggled them down around his thighs, glaring at the offending appendage as it sprang free, bouncing between his thighs like the beckoning tentacle of a friendly octopus.
"Don't you dare look so pleased with yourself," he hissed at it, though he couldn't help but examine it.
It had perked up even more as he'd settled on the windowsill, as if knowing his intention to appease its demands.
Inflamed, it was much, much larger than before, curving slightly as it pointed upwards between his thighs.
Erect. Flushed dark, its engorged size stretched out the formerly wrinkly skin and revealed a flared head.
In a strange way, it looked quite nice. Was it bigger than what he'd seen on other bipeds when they'd had to deal with this occurrence?
He couldn't be certain - he hadn't seen them up close, after all - but he suspected he did have a very nicely-sized cock.
Of course, he reflected, Mami Wata wouldn't send him amongst the bipeds with sub-par legs. Even this third leg.
Wrapping his fingers around the shaft, he gave it an experimental stroke.
"Oh," he breathed, repeating the motion in amazement, as a lot of things suddenly became much more clear. Stroking his cock felt amazing, especially with his fingers still slick from the oil Hawk had poured on them.
Gods above and below. Hawk. Silverfin bit his lip on a groan as his thoughts went back to the captain, and how exquisite his oil-slick skin had felt under his fingers.
As good as this palming of his third leg, though in very different ways of course.
Still, as Silverfin's fingers caressed his length, he was quickly coming to understand the link between the two.
That ache he'd felt when he'd kissed Hawk on the docks, that longing to be close - was this part of that, for bipeds?
Not all of it, surely, but the feeling flared even stronger as Silverfin caressed his inflamed cock.
It was impossible not to imagine being pressed close to Hawk as he did so, stroking the man's beautiful shoulders with his free hand. Or more.
Silverfin closed his eyes with a moan, picturing what it might have been like if he'd given in to his fantasies.
If he'd pressed up against Hawk's back to kiss along that freckled shoulder, stroking oil slick hands over his chest. If he'd had his trews down like this, his cock would have pressed into the small of Hawk's back, rubbing over his skin as Silverfin caressed and massaged his chest.
His cock clearly liked that idea, jerking harder in his grasp.
Slick unexpectedly began to pearl at his slit, and Silverfin stroked his thumb through it, finding it as delightful as the oil.
He stroked it over his cockhead, which felt even better, so Silverfin twisted his fingers around it with a moan.
Gods, if there were so many ways to make one's third leg feel good it was no wonder bipeds were always jerking it!
Of course, none of it was as good as touching Hawk had been.
Silverfin's mind immediately went back to his fantasies of stroking oil-slick hands over the man's chest, through those delightful red whirls of chest hair and down those tight abs.
It was impossible not to wonder what the man's third leg would look like.
Could Silverfin make it get inflamed like his, if he touched him?
He imagined pulling the man's trews undone and sliding a hand down into them, wrapping it around his girth.
Yes. Silverfin bit his lip on a groan of delight, stroking his cock more eagerly.
It was easy to imagine what Hawk's would feel like in his grasp, what he might look like, flushed and freckled.
How his cockhead would emerge from the ring of Silverfin's fingers just like his was. Would Hawk let him feel good like this?
Silverfin leaned back against the window frame, breathless, stroking harder.
A massage was supposed to remove tension, but he could feel his own building in the most delightful way like an impending storm.
He couldn't help but cant up into his grip as he imagined stroking Hawk's cock, wringing more of those delightful moans from the captain's lips.
And perhaps - perhaps Hawk would even touch him in return, perhaps he'd even kiss him -
With a shout, a rush of heat and sensation rose up inside him, like riding the crest of a wave. Crashing, shuddering through him over and over as he stroked himself, as a wet and goopy substance unexpectedly spurted from him, landing on his fingers and bare thighs.
So good, so easy to imagine Hawk like this, though too soon the pleasure faded, his cock too sensitive for touch. Sensitive, and shrinking, as if disappointed he was here alone and not with Hawk at all.
"Traitor," Silverfin hissed at it.
When all was said and done, being a biped was rather messy and distinctly unsatisfying.