The Wedding (Starting Over Book 3)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  And Aled was itching to be…less than gentle.

  The next morning was a Saturday. Aled woke up early thanks to a case of morning wood and stole downstairs to check Gabriel’s work schedule before sneaking back up and taking his time in carefully stripping Gabriel of his underwear and tying him to the bed. Loose at first—just rough rope looped around each wrist and ankle—then slowly tightening and tightening, ever careful not to wake him, until he was spread-eagled on the bed and immobilised. The blindfold from the night before at the club completed the picture and Aled let himself deliver one gentle kiss to a slack cheek before dragging his power and confidence around himself like a cloak and settling in for the game.

  Then he sat back and switched on the TV.

  It didn’t take long after that. Gabriel wriggled while he slept, and it only took about fifteen minutes of useless squirming to drag him up from the depths. Aled smirked as the sharp gasp ripped into the room, and patted the flat belly shivering by his side.

  “Good morning.”

  “W-what’s—what—”

  “Demonstrate,” Aled interrupted.

  There was a sharp pause, then Gabriel snapped his fingers. Left, then right. The safeword for when there was no talking—because Aled had no intention of letting Gabriel’s mouth go unused all morning.

  “Good.”

  “Let me go.”

  “No. Last night was a cute little stage show, but it wasn’t good enough. You obviously need to be reminded what a real fuck feels like.”

  “I did what you told me!”

  “I told you to fuck yourself on my cock. You practically made love to it.”

  “I did it properly!”

  “I didn’t see blood on my thighs when you were done.”

  “Oh God, no. No-no-no-no—”

  Aled leaned over and gripped Gabriel’s jaw in one hand.

  “You shut up,” he said, “or I’ll gag you.”

  Then he kissed him. Not the reassuring kiss in the car before taking him to the club, but a harsh bite of anger and pain. He ripped at Gabriel’s mouth and swallowed the yowl as he shoved his aching dick inside. Gabriel curled into a fuck. He wrapped himself around cock like a glove. But Aled had strapped him down too hard, and it made him tight inside. It was like being milked, and Aled groaned into the begging mouth caught by his own.

  Then fucked.

  He held Gabriel’s hips in a bruising grip and pounded into him like a hammer on nails. No aim, no finesse, no skill. A predator taking prey. An aggressor staking a claim. He gave up on the kiss and buried his teeth in Gabriel’s neck instead, holding on with his teeth and groaning his lust into the soft, damaged skin while Gabriel—

  Screamed. Cried. Begged and pleaded. Dissolved from words to an anguished sobbing that was shoved out of him with every thrust. Then yelled again when Aled came, and called him a bastard when he pulled out, removed the condom and forced the contents into Gabriel’s mouth. Cum spilled over swearing lips, but not blood.

  Aled smirked. “That was just to take the edge off.”

  “You fucking—”

  Aled slapped him.

  “Shut it!” he thundered. “If you can’t shut it, I’ll make you!”

  “Let me go! Let me go!”

  It was a fight to get the gag in and the strap locked tight, but the screams were soon muffled. Aled sighed in relief. He liked a bit of yelling, but the room was too small for Gabriel to go for his blood-curdling shrieks. The muffled sobbing behind the gag was much better.

  “I’ll let you out when you earn it,” he said. “I was going to fuck your mouth later, but I guess your cunt will have to do. But don’t worry. I’ll be sure to use protection—can never tell what sluts like you are carrying.”

  The noise Gabriel made was probably casting aspersions on Aled’s mother. Gabriel hated condoms. It would make it all the more of a mindfuck if he could really feel his own arousal while Aled supposedly forced him into it.

  “What was that?” Aled asked. “You want to suck my dick?”

  Gabriel shook his head. Aled caught him by the hair and pulled until he whined.

  “I think that was a yes,” he crooned. “Maybe we can reach a compromise, hm?”

  He straddled Gabriel’s lower ribs and began to massage his tits, keeping an ear out for any clicks of the fingers. Aled was bisexual. Tits and pecs, arse or cunt, it was all good as far as he was concerned. His preferences when it came to looks tended to be gender-oblivious things like smiles, shapely bums and freckles. But Gabriel wasn’t wired quite the same, and sometimes playing with his boobs and that beautiful nipple ring could catapult him into absolute bliss.

  And sometimes it could trigger a dysphoric meltdown and the R word.

  But while Gabriel squirmed and swore through the gag, his fingers never made a sound as Aled massaged the small pale breasts that cupped his soft cock between them. They were barely more than a handful each, dusted with light fluffy hair after years of HRT, and with beautifully responsive nipples. Gabriel began to cry as Aled teased them into points and twisted the nipple ring until the skin around it swelled and grew painfully hot.

  As did his cock.

  He didn’t titfuck often—not worth the risk, usually—but he took his time and enjoyed it. The slide of soft breasts around his dick, coupled with the faint brushes of hair, was intensely erotic. Aled tipped his head back as he fucked in long, idle strokes. His balls dragged against heaving ribs and stomach. A bead of blood welled up around the nipple ring and stained his fingers. He sucked it off, then slid back down and drove himself back into that used and abused pussy so he could wrap his lips around the bleeding nipple and suck it until the sobbing returned to screams.

  “Not quite the blood I was looking for,” he said, “but it’s a good start.”

  * * * *

  Aled slipped into the bathroom and closed the door with a snap.

  It was steamy, the bath full. Gabriel lay stretched out in the water, one arm trailing over the side temptingly. The first aid kit was in pieces all over the sink and counter, and abandoned strips of ropes lay in a pile on the closed toilet lid.

  “Hey,” Aled whispered, sinking to his knees on the bathmat and propping himself up against the edge. “Bedsheets are changed and dishes are washed. Room for one more?”

  Gabriel hummed, and beckoned with a single finger. Aled kissed the side of his head, then stood to strip.

  It had been an intense and brutal morning, ended by snapped fingers when the pain of the abused nipple ring had gotten too distracting for Gabriel to enjoy himself anymore. Antiseptic cream, a fresh and slightly smaller ring and a plaster had fixed up the breast and as Aled stepped into the bath behind Gabriel and sank down into the warmth, he felt the hot water and the pliant body that sagged back against his chest fixing his own wounds, too.

  “How do you feel?” he whispered, curling his arms around Gabriel’s waist and kissing an exposed ear.

  “Safe,” Gabriel breathed. “Loved. Tired.”

  Aled chuckled. “Me too. And how do I feel?”

  “You love me.”

  Aled tightened his grip a fraction. “I do. Good game?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yeah.”

  Aled rested his head back against the edge and relaxed. The bath was really too small for this, and he’d not be able to stay long but the simple act helped. The anxious voice in the back of his head fell silent. Gabriel’s fingers were stroking a soft pattern into his arm. The water swirled as he turned over, then Aled smiled into the kiss.

  “L’ve you.”

  “Love you too—what are you doing?” Aled asked as a hand curled around his dick. “You’ll be so lucky.”

  “Lucky Lazarri, that’s me.”

  Aled grumbled as he was slowly worked, then closed his eyes and let Gabriel have his way. Once he might have questioned it. Once he might have wondered if it was an apology for the orgasm interrupted by the safeword. But he knew Ga
briel better now than those early days and simply let him touch. Only with Gabriel could a hand job be intimate and non-sexual all at once. When Aled came, it was barely noticeable but for the way Gabriel squeezed gently and kissed his mouth.

  “One thing,” Gabriel murmured.

  “What?”

  “Stop using fucking condoms.”

  Aled laughed. “Hey, you didn’t safeword that.”

  Gabriel grumbled.

  “You know the rules.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Why do you even like them? They feel gross.”

  “They feel fine,” Aled said. “You like ribbed ones.”

  “Those weren’t ribbed.”

  “Want me to stick to those?”

  “If you must,” Gabriel muttered. “Rather you didn’t use any.”

  “I know, but I remain unconvinced that your weightlifting shag hasn’t got the clap.”

  “He doesn’t! Anyway, he does use them. He thinks if you get cum within a hundred feet of an ovary, you get a baby.”

  “Oh, bloody Christ,” Aled said, and burst out laughing. “Well, at least you can’t blame me if you do get pregnant, condoms or no condoms.”

  “I’d blame Kevin,” Gabriel said. “He’s the one with a new kid every year.”

  “Good point,” Aled said, then tapped a wet shoulder. “Off. I’m going to get out and get into my pyjamas. Bed, or a cuddle on the sofa with a bad film?”

  “I don’t mind,” Gabriel said. He followed Aled out of the bath and cosied up in the same towel. “You know what I’d like?”

  “Oh, here we go.”

  But the wet, warm body pressed up against his own, and the arms locked around his shoulders like they were about to dance, put paid to any of Aled’s protests. He dashed his nose across Gabriel’s in a swift, lipless kiss and earned himself a surprised smile.

  “Go on,” Aled prompted. “What do you want?”

  “An orgasm,” Gabriel said. “You got four and I only got one and I feel a bit funny downstairs because of it. Like I got all the foreplay then nothing, and I can’t scratch the itch. So, will your magic tongue be visiting later?”

  Aled grinned. He cupped the back of Gabriel’s head. Kissed him until that beautiful body sagged in his arms and the only tension left was in the grip around his neck.

  “Sofa,” he said. “Put on your favourite film, then open your legs and let me blow your mind.”

  And his dick, but the mind came first.

  Chapter Eight

  “Have fun last night, did you?”

  Gabriel scowled. Suze was standing on the doorstep wearing an offensively ugly jumper and an even more offensively smug grin.

  “Fuck off,” he said.

  She stuck her shoe in the door before he could close it, then barged her way in and shouted for Aled.

  “He’s in the shower.”

  “Taking care of his chafed dick?”

  “Not all of us have boyfriends with paper-thin penises,” Gabriel said loftily and closed the door. “Want a drink?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  She followed him into the kitchen and pulled herself up on the counter like a kid as he switched the kettle on. Suze was the same age as Aled but looked closer to Gabriel’s age. She was so fair that her skin had almost no sun damage whatsoever from a lifetime spent in the shade and hidden under several layers of factor fifty. Her face was framed by an artificially straight bob of artificially blonde hair. Even her eyes were a pale shade of grey. Her clothes and makeup usually tried to take up the slack, with orange summer dresses, yellow winter jumpers or scarlet lipstick all making regular appearances. She looked like a gaudy twenty-five—until she smiled, which was often, and time revealed itself in pretty crows’ feet and cheerful laughter lines.

  Gabriel had always found it rather odd that they worked at the same firm, yet bold Suze worked in finance and bland Aled worked in marketing.

  “Got plans?” she asked as he fished for teabags.

  “Not really. I swapped shifts so I’m not working today.”

  “Good, you can come with me and Aled.”

  “He didn’t say anything about you two having plans.”

  “He doesn’t know we have them yet.”

  Gabriel smirked. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Come on! I’m taking him suit shopping. Wouldn’t you like to see him in a suit?”

  “I see him in a suit most days,” Gabriel pointed out.

  “No, those are his cheap off-the-rail work suits. They’re crap. A proper suit. Properly tailored. It makes a big difference.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Gabriel said. “I’ve never done anyone in a proper suit.”

  Suze rolled her eyes. “He’ll look handsome. It’s not all about sex.”

  “What’s the point of the suit if it’s not going to make him sexier?”

  “He’ll be handsome!”

  “So?”

  She huffed and called him shallow, but Gabriel had been called worse. He just shrugged, handed over her tea and headed up the stairs, banging on the bathroom door on the way past and telling Aled that his slapper mate had turned up. The outraged squawk from downstairs made his revenge all the sweeter.

  He could see why she’d commented on their sex life when he’d answered the door, though. Aled had left a savage bruise on his neck, probably good enough for Aled’s dentist to use as a map. Gabriel rolled his eyes and opened the wardrobe to steal a hoodie or something. He found a black one at the back, and decided to go dark for the day. Jeans. Briefs. Socks, too—why not match? Not like he was going to—

  “Coming?”

  He jumped violently. Aled chuckled and a damp kiss landed on the back of Gabriel’s head.

  “Apparently not,” Gabriel said as Aled dropped the towel and stepped into a clean pair of boxers.

  “Tart. I meant out with me and Suze. Heard her plans from up here.”

  “Not my thing.”

  “Not even if I fuck you in a changing room cubicle?”

  “Meh. Never appealed to me,” Gabriel admitted. “Too many old hangovers about changing rooms in general, I think.”

  “Fair enough,” Aled said, but slid a hand into Gabriel’s back pocket and reeled him in regardless. “Come anyway.”

  “What do I get out of it?”

  Teeth bit his ear. His nerves shivered warningly.

  “I’m not asking,” Aled purred.

  “Um. O-okay.”

  The hand vanished. Gabriel blinked hazily, then swore when he realised he’d agreed.

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Nobody said anything about fair.” Aled chuckled, shoving a T-shirt over his head. “Come on. I’m driving because Suze is a bloody maniac and I like being alive. If you’re quick, you can kick her out of the front seat.”

  “I’d rather have a nap in the back,” Gabriel groused.

  He really wasn’t into clothes shopping. More than one guy had tried to take him on a trip—apparently other twinks like that kind of thing—but it had always bored him to tears at best, or reminded him of his mother forcing him into skirts and strappy tops at worst, holding his arm so hard that the bones ached and screaming in his face that he was her daughter, not a fucking dyke. And clothes had never been too much of a turn-on for him. He wasn’t into uniforms. He didn’t have a thing for heels. Or leather. Or rubber. The nearest he had to an interest in clothes was it was pretty sexy to be naked when the other guy was fully clothed and intending to fuck him without taking anything off. And that was more about the balance of power than whatever the hell anyone was wearing.

  So sure, Aled probably would be very sexy in a suit. But it wasn’t going to make the trip any more interesting.

  “If you come with us, and let me find something good for you, then—”

  Aled ducked in again. The hand touched his hip. Lips grazed his ear.

  “—I’ll call Kevin and we’ll arrange something.”

  Gabriel’s breath caught.

  We’
ll arrange something.

  Like a kidnap. Like a slave for sale. Like remedial training. Like something scary and violent and so, so good.

  “Deal.”

  He still retreated to the back seat, mainly to text Kevin and think up something for them to do to him. Suze was chatty and cheerful and Gabriel’s grouchy mood eased a little when she told stories of Tom’s awful overbearing mother and how she’d go spare when she realised Suze had cut her out of the wedding dress proceedings. Because of course that was where they were going first. The big white puffball dress—only it wasn’t going to be big, it wasn’t going to be white, it wasn’t going to be a puffball and Suze wasn’t even sure she wanted a dress.

  “I need something down the middle,” she said. “I look frumpy in a trouser suit. But I don’t want to wear a dress. And I’m not entitled to white.”

  Gabriel sniggered.

  “I don’t want heels either, but flats just look tatty and grim.”

  “Go barefoot,” Gabriel said. “Sounds like Tom’s mum will really hate that.”

  “Ooh, good shout…”

  Gabriel had never been shopping in relation to weddings and had expected them to end up at a bridal shop. To his surprise, they ended up in Leeds city centre and he was towed into a department store rather than a specialist boutique.

  Then Suze turned to him and said, “So how do I get an androgynous bride look going?”

  “How the hell should I know?” Gabriel asked blankly.

  “Well…you know.”

  “No.”

  She pinked and gestured vaguely at him. “You must have—you know. Figured out…different clothes.”

  Gabriel narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

  He could feel his hackles rising.

  “Because—”

  She must have smelled the danger. She backpedalled hastily and shoved Aled into the menswear section to find suits in a panicked sort of manner. Gabriel stood stock-still and watched them go, jaw working tightly to push down the irritational anger. She hadn’t meant anything by it. It was just dumb. Wasn’t like her boyfriend hadn’t said dumber.

  Wasn’t like logic did fuck-all for emotions, mind.