Accidentally on Porpoise

ACCIDENTALLY ON PORPOISE

Placida Pod 1

Tymber Dalton

EVERLASTING CLASSIC MANLOVE

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ACCIDENTALLY ON PORPOISE

Placida Pod 1

TYMBER DALTON

Copyright © 2012

Wind in my face. Bait in the cooler. And, hopefully, the sun on my bare ass later.
Sean Morita guided his 230 Boston Whaler Dauntless out of the marina and down the channel toward the Intracoastal leading to Lemon Bay while Jason Mraz blasted on the waterproof speakers. He’d had the boat three months and only managed to get it out on the water two other times.

I’m paying enough on it every month. I should make more time to actually use it.
The boat was the reason he’d be driving his beater Ford pickup for a few more years. He’d wanted his own boat for as long as he could remember. Sure he could borrow his parents’ boat, but then he had to endure hours of lectures from his father on proper use and care despite having been raised going out nearly every weekend and knowing their Mako even better than they did.

It was a little after nine o’clock on a beautiful June Tuesday morning in Englewood, Florida, and Sean damn sure wanted to be a part of it. He’d been working his ass off six months straight with barely a day to himself. If his father didn’t like it, he could go screw himself. When he woke up and saw the weather report, and the fact that he didn’t have to be out in the field today supervising their survey crews, he’d decided to chuck it and called in to the office. No doubt his father would be up his ass about it, but unlike his old man, he didn’t enjoy working twenty-four-seven.

Today is me time.

When he left the no-wake zone behind and reached the main channel, he pushed the throttle forward. The 250-horsepower Yamaha outboard smoothly responded, putting the boat up on plane and gliding over the silky water not yet rippled by afternoon sea breezes. He could almost feel fish tugging on his line already. Hopefully, no one would be out at his favorite near-shore fishing spot in the Gulf and he could shuck his swim trunks.

Maybe even rub one out under the sun. It’d been too damn long since he’d been laid. The only thing he didn’t like about Englewood was the lack of eligible and hunky gay men. He rarely had time to trek up to Sarasota or St. Pete or even Tampa to waste nights trolling bars, which really wasn’t his thing anyway. He also wasn’t comfortable meeting someone online. He wanted face-to-face interaction.

He smiled when he spotted the trio of dolphins off to starboard a few hundred yards ahead of him in Lemon Bay. It wouldn’t be the first time dolphins swam along with him, surfing in the outboard’s wake. As a kid he’d been fascinated by the animals, wondering how they always managed to stay safe despite their dangerous-looking acrobatics while playing chicken with boats.

They veered toward him, homing in on his wake. He laughed and maintained a steady course for them. Except for some commercial guides, he practically had the glassy water to himself this morning and didn’t need to watch for other boats.

* * * *

Emery and Erik closed in on their quarry, Denby. Denby was “it” in their game of fuck tag, and if he could make it to the no-wake zone before they caught up with him, they’d switch off until one of them tired enough to get caught by the other two.

And that one would then proceed to get his brains fucked out.

Not a bad fate, admittedly.

While the pod generally frowned on them going off on their own for play due to their stuffy “safety in numbers” thinking, the older younglings generally preferred to take this kind of play out on the water when the elders were at their normal two-legged day jobs.

Besides, it wasn’t like they were going out in open water to hunt. And it was daytime. On a weekday, for chrissake. A few hours playing in Lemon Bay wouldn’t hurt anybody. Emery loved the feel of his shifted body cutting through the warm salt water, feeling free in a way his human form didn’t allow.

Denby veered toward an oncoming boat. Emery and Erik both let out chirrups of triumph, easily seeing from his trajectory that he’d have to veer away and back toward them, giving them the win. Denby had just turned twenty and wasn’t used to the rocketing pace of their play yet. It was only the fourth time he’d been out with them for fuck tag, although he hadn’t come out to the pod as gay yet.

Then again, Denby could be like one of many others before him, playing on the side with his male youngling pod mates while putting up a respectable front for the females and eventually settling down with a female dolphin shifter, or even a human female.

Hell, stranger things had happened.

Emery didn’t give a shit who knew he liked guys over girls, and neither did Erik. Not that Erik was mate material, but as a friend and fuck buddy, he was fine. Although Emery’s parents insisted that because he was an Alpha, and son of the Placida Pod’s head Alpha, he would mate with a female dolphin shifter and produce grandchildren for their line despite him repeatedly telling them no way in hell. He just wasn’t interested in women, shifter or human.

Just because Dad’s in charge of the pod doesn’t mean I’m going to kowtow to him.

As they drew closer to the boat and Denby didn’t veer away, Emery’s thoughts turned to concern. “He sees the boat, right?” he chattered to Erik.

“Yeah, I think he does. Shit. Maybe not.”

They both put on speed, the game no longer fun as they sent warning clicks to the younger male. “My father will sooo have my ass if someone gets hurt,” Emery said.

“No shit, dumbass. I don’t want him ripping me a new one, either.”

Unfortunately, Denby maintained his course. Emery dug deep, adrenaline pouring through his shifted body as he flipped his tail fluke and pulled ahead of Erik. Denby’s course was too straight. He’d cut in front of the boat just in time to get hit by it if he didn’t veer off or slow down.

Denby either ignored or couldn’t hear their loud pleas for him to stop. Within a few yards of the boat, Emery managed to leap out of the water, striking Denby in the side and knocking the wind out of him.

Unfortunately, it put Emery directly in the path of the boat. He heard the captain throttle the engine back, but too late. The bow caught him squarely in the head over his melon, sending blinding pain throughout his body that violently spun his world into grey clouds of pain, followed by black.

* * * *

“Shit!” Sean had been so fascinated by the dolphins that it wasn’t until the last second he realized the one in front, slightly smaller than the other two, was going to run right into his path. He throttled down, but too late. The dolphin right behind the lead dolphin leapt, knocking the smaller dolphin aside but plowing directly into his bow with a sickening
thud
.

He shifted into neutral and raced up to the bow, feeling heartsick. The smaller dolphin was shaking his head off to the side, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. The third dolphin dove under the boat, his loud, agitated squeals and clicks audible even through the water.

It surfaced on the other side of the boat, head out of the water and turning around as if looking for its comrade, chattering and clicking before diving again.

That’s when Sean spotted the man’s body ten yards away to his port side. Naked and floating facedown.

Without thinking, Sean kicked off his shoes and dove into the water, taking strong strokes that quickly carried him to the man’s side. Sean flipped him over and hooked an arm under the man’s armpits. Pressing two fingers to the man’s throat, he felt a strong but racing pulse. And he was breathing.

It wasn’t until he’d towed the man back to his boat that he had time to wonder at his sudden appearance. He’d forgotten about the dolphin, which from the agitated chattering of the other two still apparently hadn’t resurfaced.

Sorry, fella. I hope you’ll be okay, but I have to take care of this guy.
He climbed up on his swim step and hauled the guy in over the transom, collapsing under his weight to the deck. Around the boat, the other two dolphins swam, practically screaming from the sounds of their chattering.

This guy had a huge goose egg on the top of his head, and a scalp laceration that was bleeding all over the place. Sean grabbed a towel. Then he reached over to the console and turned the key to shut the engine off. When he turned back to the man, he pressed the towel against his head to staunch the bleeding.

Now he had a chance to actually look at the guy. Hunky and hung, he was a large guy but had a swimmer’s build and sandy blond hair that under other circumstances Sean would have been panting after. Strong shoulders that tapered down a well-defined chest and over rigid, washboard abs to a narrow waist. Sean looked around but didn’t see any other boats or watercraft nearby to explain the man’s appearance.

His first-aid training kicked in. Other than the head injury, Nakey Hunk didn’t appear to be hurt. “Where the hell did you come from?” he muttered. “I’d better call Marine Patrol.” He leaned toward the console to grab the VHF radio mic when Nakey Hunk’s hand grabbed his wrist.

“No,” Nakey Hunk croaked. His eyes were still closed.

“Dude, you’re hurt. You might have a serious injury. A concussion, at the very least. Not to mention you’re bleeding all over the place.”

The hand squeezed, nearly painfully. “No.”

Sean gave up. “Okay. All right.”

Nakey Hunk let go of his wrist and gingerly put his hand on the towel, over Sean’s.

From the way Nakey Hunk was sprawled in his lap, Sean suspected the only way the guy could miss the sudden hard-on pressing into his shoulder would be if he had a concussion.

* * * *

Blinding pain exploded through Emery’s body, twenty times worse than getting kicked in the balls. Guys playing dirty hit each other in the nuts.

Dolphins playing dirty aimed for the melon, where their echolocation senses were located. And at least in this way, girls weren’t immune.

But a boat nailing him…

Fuuuck.

He was too stunned to resist when the guy pulled him into his boat. All he’d wanted to do was slip into unconsciousness, but even that didn’t happen. He vaguely heard Denby and Erik chattering and clicking at him from somewhere outside the boat, but he ignored them.

All he wanted to do was die.

Seemed like that wasn’t happening either. At least Denby was safe.

I’m gonna kill that asshole when I feel better.

He laid his hand over the man’s hand holding the towel to his scalp. That injury would be healed within a few hours. One benefit of being a dolphin shifter was the ability to heal quickly, although far more quickly than even bio-dolphins.

“Water, please,” he croaked at the guy.

He felt the guy lean over, heard the sound of a cooler open and close, and then the
snick
of the plastic cap being wrenched open on the bottle.

The guy pressed the bottle to his lips. “Here.”

He took several long, deep swallows. That helped settle his stomach, which had threatened to upend from the pain. And he didn’t feel like explaining why he would be upchucking a dozen or so pinfish, swallowed whole, all over the guy’s deck.

“Thank you,” Emery said.

“No problem. Mind telling me how you got out here? Did you fall out of your boat? You’re lucky those dolphins came along, although I think one ran in front of me. I wouldn’t have seen you if I hadn’t stopped.”

Fuck
. His brain hurt too much to think of an adequate response. “Not sure. Too many drinks last night and asshole friends.”
Okay, that will buy me some time.

“We should really get you to shore and to a hospital.”

Something about the sound of the guy’s voice drilled down deep inside him. He liked it. It sounded like deep, rich morning coffee and just as strong, with just a hint of a native Floridian drawl. “No. Just need to lie down.”

“I don’t think you’re in any condition to drive. Where’s your car?”

Crap
. Erik had picked him up at his duplex in south Venice after Erik had picked up Denby. His keys, wallet, and cell phone were in Erik’s SUV. His shorts and T-shirt were hidden in a strand of mangroves at the end of Stump Pass Beach State Park, where they’d stripped before entering the water and shifting.

“Home.”

“And where is that?”

This guy is asking way too many questions.
Despite the pain receding a little, his head still throbbed in time with his pulse. He cracked open an eye and peered up at the guy who’d nearly killed him and saved his life all at the same time.

That’s when his cock started throbbing as well. Brown hair and sweet, almond-shaped brown eyes the color of cappuccino. Sun-kissed golden skin, what he could see of it around the wet T-shirt plastered to his well-defined chest.

And what felt like a generous cock rubbed against his shoulder, where he was lying in the guy’s lap.

“Can you just take me to your place?”