Raised By Wolves 2 - Matelots by Raised by Wolves 02

his lap, and seemed to be searching for words.
    “You have only been penetrated by the two, have you not?” he asked abruptly. “The Damn Cousin and the Spaniard?”
    “Oui.” I breathed. I felt discomfort at this turn of the topic, but I was curious.
    “How long ago? With the Spaniard?” he asked.
    “The night I left Florence. That was September of last year.”
    “Am I correct that you will need a great amount of preparation if I were to… be able to?”
    “Is that imminent?” I asked cautiously.
    I thought of the feel of him pressing behind me two nights ago. He had said the Horse was capable.
    He did not flinch from my gaze. “You said you would have welcomed me if I had but woken you first?”
    “Oui, I would,” I whispered. “And oui, I will require a great deal of coaxing, even as much as I want you. Even with the Spaniard I found it uncomfortable and I bled. I am sure it will be easier with you, for several reasons, but initially I am sure it will be difficult for me. I fear Shane ruined me there, and that it will never be as it should.” I had been dreading someday having to say those words, but now at least they were out. His eyes had narrowed, and his grip on my hand was nearly painful.
    “How many times? With the Spaniard?”
    I frowned. “Twelve, perhaps.”
    He appeared surprised. “And the Damn Cousin?”
    “Nine,” I whispered.
    Shame flooded my cheeks. I had never admitted the number of times I had allowed it to continue before.
    “You have been penetrated only twenty-one times?” he hissed. “Pete and Striker do that in a week.”
    I was surprised enough at the trail his mind was following to be amused. “And well I know it,” I chuckled, “but only on their particularly amorous weeks. Generally they seem to keep it to only once per day.”
    He ignored my aside. “Was the Spaniard larger than I?”
    I had only seen Gaston the once, and I had to think about Alonso.
    “I feel he was longer. You are wider in circumference, surely, and better formed.”
    Gaston snorted. “Will, I am not seeking flattery. My being wider does not bode well for the endeavor.” He sighed. “Am I as large as you?”
    “Non,” I grimaced with discomfiture. “Not in length. In girth, oui, more so I feel.”
    “Good,” he said distractedly, and then he was intent on his next quarry. “Why ever did you allow him if he made you bleed? The inconsiderate bastard. I shall kill him.”
    “I feel if I answer that, you will merely wish to kill him more,” I sighed.
    The intensity of my matelot’s gaze told me that would not suffice.
    “It was a thing he insisted upon on occasion,” I said. “He would not allow for me to penetrate him. He wished to bestow. And I wished to be bestowed upon, and I cared for him, deeply, and I thought that perhaps it was time I chanced it again. So I allowed it. But I do not believe it was his fault. I am damaged goods. But all will be well. Why are…?”
    He was on his feet and pulling me with him. He stooped, and pulled the pot of salve from his bag next to where we had sat, and then he was towing me across the sand. I yelled to Liam and Otter, who were the closest to us, to see to the tar, and they watched us leave with bemused looks.
    “You realize you are giving them all the more reason to stare?” I teased.
    “To the Devil with them,” he muttered.
    I was curious and actually a trifle fearful of Gaston’s intentions.
    “What are we doing?” I asked, when at last we stopped next to a slanted palm far up the beach and he released me.
    “Performing an examination,” he said briskly, and dropped his breeches.
    For the first time in our history, I was pleased to see his member was quite flaccid. He greased his finger in the salve, and then with a quite comical expression of intense concentration, stuck it up his own arse and probed about. I sat on the palm trunk and smiled.
    When he had determined whatever he was trying to ascertain, he removed his finger and