The Wedding (Starting Over Book 3)

by Matthew J. Metzger

  Sure enough, the little car park had only one other car left, with exhausted parents already wrestling their offspring into the back seats. The beach itself was a ten-minute walk through still-warm countryside, and they reached the top of the cove just as the sun slipped beneath the lip of the horizon, and the sky turned a pale blue above an ink-black sea. The scramble down the rocks was aided by the torch on Aled’s phone, then he slipped it away once their shoes hit sand and caught the button of Gabriel’s shorts between finger and thumb.

  “Strip,” he said.

  Gabriel stripped without a word. His clothes simply fell to the sand in a crumpled puddle and he stood silently in the centre of them, eyes downcast. Obedient. Submissive. Aled worked his jaw, then nodded to the water.

  “Get in.”

  Gabriel’s foot shifted slightly in the sand.

  “And don’t turn your back on your owner.”

  The foot twisted and Gabriel carefully stepped into the water. It was cold. The hairs on Gabriel’s arms fluffed up in a matter of seconds and he bit his lip when Aled ordered him to kneel, then keep going.

  When the first idle wave swamped his face, Aled told him to stop.

  Then he stripped from the waist down and followed him. Stopping with his soft cock just an inch from Gabriel’s mouth, he ran a hand through wet hair and pulled until those large dark eyes stared up at him.

  “The tide’s coming in,” he said, “and you don’t get out until the job’s done. So I’d get a move on if I were you.”

  The water was like ice, but Gabriel’s mouth and hands were hot. And the coughing and gagging as he choked on dick and seawater was even hotter. Aled sighed as his balls were massaged in warm hands and his cock worked like a musical instrument. And Gabriel was playing the fastest solo known to man. The rhythm was almost hard, the pass of lips up and down the shaft so quick that it almost chafed. Once, Aled idly reached down to grab Gabriel’s hair and force the head into his throat, and the thrash and gag had an edge of panic that was both dangerous and alluring.

  He would drown if he didn’t hurry up, and he knew it.

  And Aled had just intended on getting a blow job and heading back to the car for a proper fuck, where they would be tangled up in the too-small space and Gabriel would be utterly defenceless against whatever Aled wanted to do, but the added layer of vulnerability was just too tempting. He yanked that damp face off his dick just before the point of no return and for a split second, Gabriel slipped entirely beneath the waves.

  And when he emerged, coughing and shivering, Aled seized a fistful of hair, and shook him.

  “Move.”

  He bullied him up the shore until they stood knee-deep, then took hold of his hips and brushed his cock up against a tight, unprepared arse.

  “Your choice,” he whispered. “A spit-fuck in the back, or a salted one in the front.”

  Either would be uncomfortable. Possibly even hurt, if Gabriel hadn’t had any sex with Chris during his stay in Bristol. But pain was second only to humiliation when it came to getting Gabriel’s rocks off, and Aled wasn’t too surprised when Gabriel whispered, “Th-the back,” through chattering teeth.

  “Put your hands on the sand.”

  “What?”

  He slapped that captured arse as hard as he could and Gabriel stumbled.

  “Get up!”

  Gabriel staggered back to his feet, then did as he’d been told and bent at the waist to plant his palms flat on the shore. It brought his face perilously close to the waves, and that had been the idea. As Aled slowly drove his cock into that tight, resisting arse, the whisper of pain was cut off by harsh spluttering against the incoming tide.

  And with every cough, Gabriel squeezed.

  It was like fucking a clenched fist. It was almost like fucking a virgin again and Aled relished the pressure. Pressure was one of the best damn things about getting his dick in someone. He liked the soft, wet grasp of a cunt around his fingers. He loved the taste of both kinds of lips on his tongue. But there was something utterly glorious about having his dick squeezed by a seemingly unwilling body as he fucked it anyway—and Aled fucked it. Fucked like his life depended on it. Fucked like Gabriel was a toy. Just held those hips in a vice-like grip and slammed in and out, in and out, in and out, until there was a grey blurring around the cliffs in the corner of his vision and the sea was warm around his feet.

  When he came, he stayed right there for a long, long minute.

  “Fuck,” he breathed.

  Eyes closed, he could feel the world shivering around the hammering of his own heart. He could feel every muscle in his entire body. He could feel the relaxed contentment in his cock, but also the urge to try again already building in his balls.

  He pushed.

  Gabriel vanished into the waves and lay crumpled before him, a pale shape in the growing dark. Aled left him there, walking back up to their clothes and shoving his wet feet into trousers and shoes, before gathering Gabriel’s things under one arm and walking back down to him.

  “Get up.”

  “J-just a—”

  He caught Gabriel’s hair and yanked it. Gabriel gasped, fumbling to his knees.

  “You want another one?”

  “No! No, sir!”

  “You don’t want my cock?”

  “I—but—I—”

  “Was I holding you down out there? Did I rip your clothes off? Did I drag you into the water? Did I?”

  “N-no—”

  “So you went out there because you wanted to.”

  Gabriel’s mouth worked soundlessly.

  “You went out there and got on your knees and sucked my cock because you wanted to. Then you bent over and asked me to fuck your arse. Isn’t that right?”

  “Y-yes, sir…”

  “So what was that about my cock?”

  “I—I want it, sir. I want it.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “I do! I do, I—”

  Aled let go. “Prove it. Back to the car. On your hands and knees.”

  Perhaps wisely, Gabriel didn’t say anything or ask for his clothes back. He just set off crawling up the beach. Aled found his phone and put the torch back on and watched in no small amount of appreciation as he followed sedately behind. Ten minutes turned into twenty and the moon was high before Gabriel—scratched, bruised and shivering—reached the car. Aled made him wait on his knees in the gravel while he put the spare blanket down across the back seat, then threw his clothes in the boot and slammed it.

  “Get in.”

  Gabriel crawled up onto the blanket and turned over to lie on his back. Aled smirked and crawled in after him. Over him. His warmth in his clothes against Gabriel’s blue-tinged nudity. His bulk trapping that slim form under him. The child locks on the doors forming a prison, and the only key in Aled’s possession.

  “Now, how about you try again with those comments about my cock?”

  Because his cock was hard again. Pressing against the zip on his jeans. Pressing against Gabriel’s thighs—then not, as they slowly parted and Aled’s hips slid into the space between them.

  “I want you to fuck me,” Gabriel whispered hoarsely. “I want you to fuck me like I’m nothing more like a warm hole. I want to feel your cock all the way ins—oh God, inside of me—”

  The speech creaked around the edges as Aled unzipped his jeans and began to fuck him, a mixture of arousal and seawater sliding out around his dick with every push, but the words themselves never quite vanished.

  “—to use me however—fuck—however you want—”

  He allowed a tiny scrap of warmer emotion to enter the scene, in the form of a single kiss behind Gabriel’s ear, then pulled the mantle of sadistic dominance back around himself, and bit.

  After all, Gabriel hadn’t come yet.

  And after Aled had warmed him up, maybe he ought to beg for that, too.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Gabriel woke up alone.

  Judging by the ligh
t and the feeling of a long, intense sleep, it was early afternoon. He blinked sleepily around a small hotel room, comfortable bed undermined somewhat by the grubby wallpaper and the view of a brick wall out of the tiny window. The door was secured with a thin chain and a rusty bolt. The fire safety poster was yellow and peeling. He could hear the deep rattle of old pipes and a thin layer of steam was emerging from underneath the only other door in the room. He was well and truly shut away.

  And when he threw back the covers, there was an ankle cuff and a short chain securing him to the bedframe.

  “Aled?”

  The rattling stopped.

  “Game over, please!”

  Something swished. The closer door opened and steam flooded out—along with a soaking wet partner, only a paper-thin towel around his waist hiding the cock that had fucked him into a coma last night.

  Gabriel lifted his foot and wiggled it. “Red.”

  “Okay.”

  The key was produced. When the cuff popped over, Gabriel drew back his foot and crawled down the bed for a wet kiss. He nuzzled into Aled’s damp embrace, inhaling deeply by his ear to catch the raw smell of him fresh out of the shower, then sat back on his heels with a grin.

  “Feed me.”

  Aled laughed, cupped his face in both hands and kissed him again.

  “Let me get dressed and we’ll head back over to St Ives via a greasy spoon or something.”

  “This isn’t St Ives?”

  “Nope. Didn’t fancy smuggling you into Tom’s dad’s fancy hotel after our game.”

  “Who’s this ‘our’?” Gabriel quipped, staggering off the bed. “You mindfucked me then fuck-fucked me.”

  “And you loved it.”

  “Besides the point.”

  Aled swatted his sore backside and Gabriel shot into the bathroom with an affronted scowl over his shoulder.

  But at least the shower was good.

  He felt more human afterwards, the hot water drumming out the memory of an icy sea, a brutal spit-fuck and a hell of a mindgame. His arms and legs were covered in light scratches and his knees looked like he’d knelt on a tennis court and sucked off every man in Wimbledon, but there was a contented buzz humming through his veins.

  There was no way that he’d be saying red all day.

  Aled was in a good mood too, twirling Gabriel like a dancer more than once as they got ready and talking more than he usually did in a week on their way to find breakfast. They were still near Penzance, so Gabriel put up a fight for a second breakfast once they got to St Ives and managed to even persuade Aled into a bit of a cuddle in the line at the bakery, despite Gabriel’s near-beard and baggy T-shirt putting them at the mercy of the local bigots. Not that the old git with his fat Jack Russell on the harbourfront was much of a threat.

  “You’re a fucking nightmare,” Aled told him through a post-pasty kiss. “Come on. I’ve got to go to the wedding rehearsal this afternoon and you need to get your suit unpacked so it won’t crease.”

  “Squeeze my arse and I’ll let go,” Gabriel whispered in his ear.

  “Fucking hell—”

  “You can fuck me too, if you like.”

  “I did!”

  “So?”

  Aled sighed gustily but pinched his arse. Hard. Gabriel yelped and darted out of reach in case it wasn’t a singular offence.

  “That’s what you get for toying with me,” Aled said, and jerked his head towards the car park. “Come on.”

  Gabriel had been expecting a country-cottage-style thing. Old bar downstairs and cosy rooms upstairs. Not—

  Well, not the fancy joint that Aled led him into.

  The hotel was posh.

  The gleaming lobby like an American bank, the classical music playing in the lift, the lush carpet in the halls. And the room. The en suite was the same size as Aled’s bathroom back home, and when Gabriel perched on the edge of the bed, he sank about a foot into the mattress.

  “Oh my God,” he said. “This is insane.”

  Aled smirked, sitting on the edge of the bed and toeing his shoes off.

  “Have you been staying here the whole time?”

  “Yep.”

  “Fucking hell,” Gabriel said. “I need a best friend with a super-rich boyfriend.”

  “You have a wealthy enough owner, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Aled said. He stood up and stretched. “Do you want to come to the rehearsal?”

  “Not really,” Gabriel admitted, watching the show as Aled steadily stripped out of his clothes. “Suze will need all your attention anyway. She’s starting to panic, from what you said.”

  “That’s not panic, that’s trying not to murder her future mother-in-law,” Aled quipped.

  Gabriel chuckled, and forced himself out of the bed. “I’m going for another shower. If the last place was good, then I want to try this one.”

  “Okay. Let me have a slash first.”

  Gabriel stripped off at the bed and gave Aled a little naked dance as they swapped back again, then locked him out with a laugh. The bathroom was palatial. The shower was a tower of different heads and he was blasted with hot water from every angle until his skin ached. He washed every inch of himself and even lingered long enough for a wank before getting out and drowning himself in the enormous towels. He used up two before draping them back over the rails to dry and walking back out into the room.

  And stopping dead.

  Aled was—

  “Oh my God.”

  In a dark grey suit, his hair perfectly slicked back and his glasses framing an intense blue stare, Aled looked like—like—

  “There you are.”

  Gabriel’s blood headed south. Rapidly. The drawling sneer. The folded arms over a chest pushing at the confines of a pristine waistcoat and sharp tie. The well-fitted trousers. The hard, cold look of a dominant with a brand-new game.

  Gabriel’s throat dried.

  “Hurry up,” Aled said, and snapped his fingers. He gestured to his feet. “On your knees.”

  “W-what?” Gabriel stammered.

  “For fuck’s sake,” Aled sighed heavily. “Get on your knees. Is that difficult to understand?”

  Gabriel hugged the towel around himself. His heart was beating wildly and the wet heat in his groin was nothing to do with the shower. Oh Christ. Aled was going to fuckface him looking like that? Like a lawyer and a client? Like a CEO and a secretary? Like a stockbroker and a whore?

  Gabriel hadn’t even known he had a thing for suits.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Aled snapped and his hand lashed out. He seized Gabriel’s wrist. Gabriel yelped and dropped the towel. But he wasn’t driven to his knees. He was smashed down onto the end of the bed instead, face down in the duvet and hips hanging over the edge. A sharp dress shoe slapped at his ankle and kicked his legs apart and the sound of a zip was loud in the room.

  “Don’t—”

  A hand shoved Gabriel’s face down into the sheets.

  “Shut up. What the hell did you think you were here for?”

  Gabriel whined, shoving his hips up into Aled’s groin even as he clawed at the sheets. God, he didn’t even know he liked being fucked by arrogant pricks in suits. The porn was never that good and he’d never shagged anyone who’d tried it, but fuck. Fuck, he wanted it. Now!

  It hurt.

  He yowled into the sheets as Aled rammed his cock inside. He didn’t pause, either. In a moment, Gabriel had gone from empty and over-sensitive from his wank in the shower to being ploughed like a field by a rock-hard dick. It was like being punched, over and over and over again. And it wasn’t deep enough. Wasn’t hard enough. He twisted and squirmed. He braced himself against the bed and tried to push back. Tried to rut on the sheets. Tried to resist.

  “Fuck’s sake, shut up!”

  That hand shoved his head back down. Another landed between his shoulder blades, pressing him down into the mattress until he wheezed. The angle changed. It stabbed and dragged inside him, and the first sparks of e
rotic danger began to build in his crotch.

  “What did you think I brought you here for, eh?” Aled grunted above him. “What, some nice weekend retreat? Candlelit dinners and a walk on the beach? Fuck off. This is what you’re here for and you’re done when I’m done.”

  The bed was rocking. The mattress groaned. Gabriel could only gasp wordlessly as he was ridden. There was nothing but the rhythm. The hot cock breaking him in half. The hand on his back, forcing him down. The sheets in his mouth, choking him—

  A fist seized his hair and wrenched his head back. His jaw sagged open. One sharp, snapping thrust bowed him as though he’d break in half and the rush of cum was like being burned from the inside out. The slippery rush of Aled pulling out left him hollow and cold, and the weight on his back increased for a moment as Aled leaned down, his full weight driving Gabriel deeper into the suffocating bed.

  “Should have done as you were told.”

  Tape ripped. Gabriel squirmed uselessly as his hands were bent up behind his back and taped securely together. Bound, he was turned over and each ankle taped to a bedpost, leaving him spread-eagled and face up on the bed.

  Then Aled yanked a length of the dark tape out, and smirked.

  “Very pretty.”

  The hotel room vanished and Gabriel shivered as more and more tape was added. The gloom turned to darkness, turned to blindness. Cold air drifted over him and he sensed Aled step away from the bed.

  “You’ll ruin the bed, leaking like that.”

  Gabriel tensed.

  “No!”

  “Shut up or I’ll fucking gag you.”

  “No-no-no-no—!”

  There was no give in the tape, in the bedposts, in Gabriel’s legs. He was utterly trapped against the hard, cold plastic that pressed up against his used and abused cunt—then kept pressing. The dildo sank into him and a hand sealed his mouth as he howled. It hurt. It was huge. It just kept coming and coming, stretching him out until he swore he could hear the groan in his skin and hips. It pressed up into his stomach and guts like a baseball bat. When the base finally touched his labia, he gulped a heaving breath and swore that he could have vomited it up through his stomach.