The bump of solid flesh against his legs no longer startled him. Greg clung to the splintering planks of wood, too tired to lift his chin and look down into the deep water below to search for his new-found friend.
Another bump, and rising up from beneath him, the body of the dolphin lifted Greg's legs and chest up out of the waves. More to himself than the animal, Greg smiled.
'Thanks, buddy,' he said. 'Now just get me to shore and I promise I'll start giving half my salary to that marine life charity. You know, the one that does the oil clean ups. Rescues beached whales and all that.'
The horizon stretched out on all sides. Greg let his head fall sideways onto his makeshift raft, then raised it again when water splashed in his eyes, stinging. His boat had sunk in the night, and to add insult to injury he hadn't managed to grab his clothes before they'd been washed out of reach. Now he floated in his pyjamas, as he had been for the last however many hours, saved from drowning by a lone dolphin. Someone was definitely laughing at him. Fuck it all.
The dolphin slid from under him, then reappeared, nosing at his legs with its beak, hard and strangely rubbery. Then, without warning, it grabbed the fabric of his boxers, and pulled. Greg kicked out reflexively and the dolphin disappeared back into the depths. But his boxers were slipping down his legs at the motion, and his body, stiff and aching with the cold, couldn't seem to coordinate the movements required to reach down and pull them back up.
'Fuck!' Greg said, loudly, and choked as he let go of the wood, breathing in bitter salt water and flailing around, failing to retrieve what little dignity he had left. After a moment he stopped struggling, and treading water he tried looking down instead. His boxers were gone. The grey shape of the dolphin and his two planks of wood were the only things in the water, apart from himself. Good fucking grief, he thought, when had his life become one of the more twisted sorts of Monty Python sketch?
'Fuck,' Greg said again, quieter this time, but with no loss of feeling. He grasped for his tiny raft. 'That's it, dolphin,' he said, eyes finding the sleek grey shape, for lack of anything else to do. 'That was your chance for half my salary. You'll be lucky to get a tenth now.'
The dolphin responded by swimming up under his legs again, pushing its body between them as it lifted him up. Greg let it, even though he was keenly aware of its smooth skin on his junk, and the urge to kick it away itched in the back of his head, along with the knowledge that this was very much a wild animal. What if it bit him? Jesus. It was larger than he'd always assumed dolphins would be, too – from head to tail almost twice as long as he was tall, and its round, sleek shape was hard with muscle. He'd always thought of them as being like large dogs, or something. Not that he'd ever made an effort to think about that sort of thing.
The dolphin was pressed right against him, his legs curling around its form. Greg tried to look down – was he riding it, then? Where was the fin on its back – the dorsal fin, was it? God, if he survived this, exactly no one on Earth would believe him.
Well, maybe Sherlock would. Maybe the bastard could deduce dolphin skin contact though some absurd method, the way he always did.
Something brushed against his lower back. Was it the dorsal fin? It couldn't be, right? He didn't want to take his hands away from his raft, but his gut was telling him that something was wrong. The urge to kick away from the dolphin grew, nagging.
The thing touched him again, a soft jab though the fabric of his t-shirt. What was it? There wasn't another creature around, was there?
The dolphin slid a few inches down his body, and the thing that had been poking his back became a definite presence between the cheeks of his arse. Greg choked, and twisting around he tried to bat the thing away with one hand. It was – something hard but flexible, and – connected to the dolphin? But it wasn't a fin –?
Oh, fuck. The realisation came like a wave crashing over his head, and Greg froze for a second with the absurdity of it. The dolphin was fucking rubbing off on him. He was on its belly, and its cock was out and poking his bare arse, and oh fuck.
Fill 1/2
Another bump, and rising up from beneath him, the body of the dolphin lifted Greg's legs and chest up out of the waves. More to himself than the animal, Greg smiled.
'Thanks, buddy,' he said. 'Now just get me to shore and I promise I'll start giving half my salary to that marine life charity. You know, the one that does the oil clean ups. Rescues beached whales and all that.'
The horizon stretched out on all sides. Greg let his head fall sideways onto his makeshift raft, then raised it again when water splashed in his eyes, stinging. His boat had sunk in the night, and to add insult to injury he hadn't managed to grab his clothes before they'd been washed out of reach. Now he floated in his pyjamas, as he had been for the last however many hours, saved from drowning by a lone dolphin. Someone was definitely laughing at him. Fuck it all.
The dolphin slid from under him, then reappeared, nosing at his legs with its beak, hard and strangely rubbery. Then, without warning, it grabbed the fabric of his boxers, and pulled. Greg kicked out reflexively and the dolphin disappeared back into the depths. But his boxers were slipping down his legs at the motion, and his body, stiff and aching with the cold, couldn't seem to coordinate the movements required to reach down and pull them back up.
'Fuck!' Greg said, loudly, and choked as he let go of the wood, breathing in bitter salt water and flailing around, failing to retrieve what little dignity he had left. After a moment he stopped struggling, and treading water he tried looking down instead. His boxers were gone. The grey shape of the dolphin and his two planks of wood were the only things in the water, apart from himself. Good fucking grief, he thought, when had his life become one of the more twisted sorts of Monty Python sketch?
'Fuck,' Greg said again, quieter this time, but with no loss of feeling. He grasped for his tiny raft. 'That's it, dolphin,' he said, eyes finding the sleek grey shape, for lack of anything else to do. 'That was your chance for half my salary. You'll be lucky to get a tenth now.'
The dolphin responded by swimming up under his legs again, pushing its body between them as it lifted him up. Greg let it, even though he was keenly aware of its smooth skin on his junk, and the urge to kick it away itched in the back of his head, along with the knowledge that this was very much a wild animal. What if it bit him? Jesus. It was larger than he'd always assumed dolphins would be, too – from head to tail almost twice as long as he was tall, and its round, sleek shape was hard with muscle. He'd always thought of them as being like large dogs, or something. Not that he'd ever made an effort to think about that sort of thing.
The dolphin was pressed right against him, his legs curling around its form. Greg tried to look down – was he riding it, then? Where was the fin on its back – the dorsal fin, was it? God, if he survived this, exactly no one on Earth would believe him.
Well, maybe Sherlock would. Maybe the bastard could deduce dolphin skin contact though some absurd method, the way he always did.
Something brushed against his lower back. Was it the dorsal fin? It couldn't be, right? He didn't want to take his hands away from his raft, but his gut was telling him that something was wrong. The urge to kick away from the dolphin grew, nagging.
The thing touched him again, a soft jab though the fabric of his t-shirt. What was it? There wasn't another creature around, was there?
The dolphin slid a few inches down his body, and the thing that had been poking his back became a definite presence between the cheeks of his arse. Greg choked, and twisting around he tried to bat the thing away with one hand. It was – something hard but flexible, and – connected to the dolphin? But it wasn't a fin –?
Oh, fuck. The realisation came like a wave crashing over his head, and Greg froze for a second with the absurdity of it. The dolphin was fucking rubbing off on him. He was on its belly, and its cock was out and poking his bare arse, and oh fuck.