by Barry Lowe
Robert spluttered, ready to explode but Einarr put his hand on his back and pushed him toward the cabin door, wishing them both the best for the voyage and telling them he hoped he'd see them at one of his strip nights, even going so far as to offer them front row seats. As he closed the door on them, Chuck called, “If you change your mind about a cabin swap, let me know.”
Gus stood transfixed, his mouth gaping, then his eyes crinkled and he began to giggle. Einarr had held his breath in case he'd insulted his new friend but when the laughter burst forth he knew he had done the right thing. Gus fell on the bed guffawing like he hadn't managed since his relationship had gone stale. Yes, he had been about to give in and swallow his pride and go back to Robert, but Einarr had shown him up for the shallow shit he was. Okay, he was all alone again, but he had his life back, his perspective. And, okay, he didn't have the body or the looks or the sexual adventurism that his ex-boy friend had but, hell, he was a good person.
He just wished Einarr's act to save him from making a silly mistake with Robert, hadn't been a fabrication. No matter, he would find someone. Problem was he liked muscles on a man, a tan on a man, a big dick on a man, while having none of those attributes of his own. Plus his hair was red. But, hell, he had a good personality. It was unfortunate the men he liked didn't stick their dicks in a personality.
Einarr stood watching as Gus laughed a little too hysterically. He was releasing his frustrations, his anger and his hurt so Einarr let him go on until he slowed, then choked and coughed a little, drawing in gulps of air. He sat up and patted the bed beside him inviting Einarr to join him.
“I hope I didn't say anything to upset you,” Einarr looked at the floor.
“I loved what you said,” Gus was bobbing about excitedly. “All of it. Including me being your manager.”
“What about the part...” Einarr was about to ask about the boyfriend bit but shut his mouth in the face of Gus's enthusiasm to talk.
“Do you have a manager?”
“For what?”
“You could make a fortune with a dick like that.” To reinforce what he'd said and because he thought he could get away with it, Gus squeezed the appendage which he felt hardening rapidly under his manipulation. Einarr couldn't help it, he moaned a little trying to cut it off before it escaped totally. Gus misinterpreted the sound as something else entirely and let go of the cock he wanted to fondle so badly. They both ended up frustrated.
“First thing we've got to do is get you some clothes.”
“That would be really good,” Einarr agreed.
“Then some breakfast. Then we'll get to work on putting an act together for you. I know why you couldn't dance before, it's because there was no music.” Gus was running away with ideas and Einarr let him babble, scarcely listening. He just knew he wanted to be in this man's company. He felt good when he was with him. Not entirely convinced about whether he could make a success as a party stripper, he realized it didn't matter how ugly his face was, it was his cock that they were interested in seeing. Humans were just like trolls in that respect.
Einarr daydreamed while Gus scrounged through his suitcase.
“Try it on, it may fit.”
There was no way anything of his would fit Einarr.
Gus reddened. “It belonged to Robert.”
Einarr stood and stepped into the sweatpants. They stretched but not enough. Gus grabbed a pair of scissors from his bag and began to hack at the legs, just above Einarr's knees.
“That's better,” he said when he stood back to look at his handiwork. “A bit obscene but that won't matter for the moment. It's good advertising.”
Einarr was not so sure. The fabric was squeezing his balls and the rub against his cock was exciting him more than it should have. Not to mention it hugged his butt crack uncomfortably so that he kept tugging at it. Gus slapped his hand away.
“I can't go out like this,” Einarr complained.
“It's either that or naked if you want breakfast. Take your pick.”
“Can't we order in?”
“And miss out on all the wonderful gossip plus word of mouth once they get an eyeful of you?”
In the end, he followed Gus, walking awkwardly because he kept his hands cupped in front of his crotch to avoid embarrassment lest anyone see him but after a few wolf whistles and some unsuccessful attempts at groping he relaxed into his new found popularity, making the most of it while it lasted. Few of the men looked at his face, their eyes going directly to his package. What did he care? Actually, he cared a lot. But if he couldn't have love, he'd settle for sex.
In the restaurant where they served breakfast, Einarr was not particularly under-dressed as many of the available men had taken the opportunity to advertise their wares. They all paled into insignificance as soon as the Icelandic stud appeared. Conversation stopped, whispering began as all eyes turned to watch the two men, or rather Einarr, as they made their way to the buffet. Gus had to restrain Einarr from piling his plate so high with food that he would have been unable to carry it, telling him he could go back as many times as he wanted.
There were no free tables so Gus asked permission of two older gents who seemed more interested in each other than the multitude of available flesh around them.
“Of course, dear boy,” one of them said. “Please, do sit down. It's always pleasant to have eye candy at one's table. Oh, we're harmless enough. I'm Stewart and this is my partner Paul, we've been together thirty-five years and this is our honeymoon.”
Einarr whistled between mouthfuls of food.
Paul held up his finger to reveal a sparkling new gold ring. “We were married last month in London. We never thought we'd live to see the day. We wanted to be amongst people who wouldn't turn a hair if we kissed and cuddled and danced together...”
“So, voila!”
They had a habit of finishing each other's sentences. Gus thought that was delightful, wondering whether he'd ever be in a relationship that was so comfortable he'd be able to do that. It merely irritated the shit out of Einarr, who was happy to allow Gus to do all the talking for both of them.
As they ate breakfast and chatted with the pleasant married couple, men began coming to the table to drop off bits of paper with names and cabin numbers, a few of them asking for autographs. Einarr basked in the adulation, even enjoying the surreptitious gropes from guys determined to ascertain if he had padded his crotch.
“You're friend certainly is popular,” Paul said. “Is he a celebrity of some sort?”
“We're out of the loop with modern culture,” Stewart added. “Please forgive us if we've offended and should know you both.”
“Einarr is the entertainment,” Gus revealed.
“For the entire ship?” Stewart looked aghast at the idea.
“He must certainly have a sphincter of steel, my dear,” Paul guffawed. “Or a dick of death.”
“I suspect both,” Gus said, gritting his teeth as yet another group of guys pawed his cabin mate.
Paul was surprised. “You haven't tried the goods yourself?”
“If I were twenty years younger I'd be there like a rat up a drainpipe,” Stewart sighed.
“You mean forty, don't you, dear?” Paul retorted.
Stewart preened and ran his fingers through his thinning, but still ample hair. “Unless he likes his men a little older and more experienced.”
“And they don't come much more experienced than you, love.”
Gus groaned. There was no respite from Einarr's groupies anywhere. They would be worse once they'd got a glimpse of what was between his legs.
Paul leaned across the table and patted his hand. “Don't mind us, dear. We're all talk. Sorry if we've offended.”
Gus realized he was being ungracious.
“You never told us what the big brute does to entertain the passengers, apart from allowing them to get a good grope every now and then.” Stewart was very direct and Paul shot him a censorious glance.
“He's t
he Viking Stripper that's advertised all over the ship,” Gus conceded.
“Don't we have tickets for that tonight, love?” Paul asked.
“Indeed we do. We're looking forward to it.” Stewart leaned in to whisper in Gus's ear. “Does he go all the way, or just down to a jockstrap? We were wondering whether we should book for the second show as well.”
Gus wondered. “Is it legal to go all the way?”
“We're in international waters. Besides, I would have thought on a cruise like this it would have been mandatory.”
Gus had a sneaking suspicion that he may be right. He couldn't see any of the men in the restaurant being happy if Einarr didn't strip down completely to show his tackle.
“What sort of costumes do you have?”
Shit! Costumes! Gus had not planned that far ahead. His intention was solely to get aboard the ship in an attempt to win back Robert. His pretense at being a stripper was merely a furphy. Now things had taken on a life of their own and he needed not only clothing but also costumes fast.
“That's the problem,” he heard himself saying. “Einarr's luggage was left at the dock so he has nothing...”
“Thus the ill-fitting sweatpants,” Paul said. “I've never liked them as a fashion statement but, mind you, I've never seen a man fill them as effectively as your pal there.”
Einarr had gone back to the breakfast buffet for seconds and all eyes were riveted to the sculpted ass.
Stewart watched as well. “I suspect all he would have to do is stand there naked and that would almost be enough.” He sighed. “Remember when my ass looked like that?”
“To me it still does, love,” Paul said kindly, but winked at Gus.
“Perhaps we can help,” Stewart said as Einarr returned with another plateful of food plus a half dozen scrawled cards and notes. “We were involved in amateur musicals for yonks. I did a bit of directing and choreography. Paul was the genius. His costumes and set designs were sheer brilliance. All on a budget of a dollar fifty. Give him a piece of fabric and a sewing machine and he can whip up an outfit fit for the most exacting Dolly Levi to descend the stairs at the Harmonia Gardens.”
Einarr had no idea what they were talking about although it seemed to have everything to do with him. He was certain Gus would translate for him later.
“Perhaps you could call your show Hello, Trolly!” They both went off into gales of theatrical laughter at their pun but Einarr choked at the suggestion and Gus had to thump his back rather hard to stop his coughs and get his breathing regular again. He let out an enormous belch, which everyone at the surrounding tables immediately forgave, although it smelled suspiciously of dried fish and sulphur, neither of which was being served on the voyage.
Gus was eager to get back to the conversation. “You mean if I could come up with some fabric and a sewing machine you could...”
Stewart jumped in. “Now, Paul, this is our honeymoon. I don't want you spending what is meant to be relaxation sewing your fingers to the bone.”
“Oh, shut up, for heaven's sake. It's not every day we meet two hot young studs who we can help out. Besides, I'm bored stupid playing skittles and sitting in the bar drinking while the other young lovelies whisper snidely behind their hands wishing you and I would disappear because we're an affront to their sense of youthful privilege.”
“Sad, but true,” Stewart admitted. “They hate us because we are a constant reminder of the vagaries of age, something they would rather not have to think about. We made a mistake coming on this cruise. We needed one for older gentlemen of our persuasion. Although then we wouldn't have the eye candy.”
Gus jumped up excitedly from the table, his breakfast half consumed. “Don't go away,” he instructed as he hurried to the door of the restaurant to track down the ship's captain.
They sat in silence for a moment before Stewart ventured. “You like him, don't you?”
Einarr looked daggers at him.
Paul leaned over and placed his hand on his boyfriend's. Stewart made a habit of interfering.
“You young people make everything so unnecessarily complicated. You miss out on so much. Just tell him. Oh, you think you might die if he turns you down, but you won't. Chances are he probably feels the same way.”
“He tells everyone that,” Paul said kindly. “We almost missed out, you see, through our own timidity. Neither of us likes to see young men unhappy. You like him...”
“We can tell. Just as we can tell...”
“He likes you.”
Einarr put down his knife and fork. He had a load of questions to ask these two gentlemen. By the time Gus returned, the three of them had become such firm friends he almost felt like he was intruding, but he overcame the twinge of envy because he was bursting with his own good news.
“I can't believe our luck. The captain has put everything at our disposal. He's even invited us to sit at The Captain's Table on your night off.”
“Oh, I do get a night off then?” Einarr said sarcastically.
Paul kicked him under the table when Gus looked crestfallen.
“I'm sorry,” he said as he sat down, the wind taken out of his excitement, “I thought you'd be pleased.”
Stewart felt he'd known them both long enough that he could nod his head in Gus's direction as a command to Einarr, who sighed but did as he was instructed.
“I'm grateful, Gus, I really am, but I wanted to spend some time with you. Getting to know you a bit, that sort of shit.”
Gus was surprised. “Really? I thought you liked all the attention from the hot guys who've been slipping you their cabin numbers.”
“What's not to like? I love the attention. But I'm looking for something a bit deeper.” Stewart's nod told him to go on. “You know...like a...”
The four of them hung on the next word. Einarr wanted to say ‘lover.’ The other three wanted to hear ‘lover.’ What they got was ‘friend.'
Paul kicked him under the table even harder than before. Stewart slapped his forehead in frustration.
Einarr realized he'd blundered. “Or even a lover.”
“Got anyone in mind?” Gus could scarcely breathe.
“I've got my eye on a very special man,” he said and would have gone on but for Robert and Chuck blundering into the group.
“There you are Gus. I spoke to the purser and he's moving your belongings into my cabin as we speak. I told him there'd been a mix up. So, everything is hunky dory now.” His smile reminded Paul of those sharks he'd seen at the aquarium.
Chuck ran his fingers over Einarr's pecs, pinching the nipples. “And I'm more than happy to give you all the privacy in the world by moving in with Mr. Viking here.”
No one who'd ever had anything to do with Gus could believe what happened next. His hand shot out and he gripped Chuck's arm so tightly, twisting it away from Einarr's body that he cried out in pain. Then with a voice that could barely hide the grim determination and the man's new found grit, he spat out at Robert. “You will not move my gear into your cabin, Robert. If the purser has already done so you will tell him you made a mistake and have him move it back. I will not be joining you in your cabin on this or any other occasion, on board ship or on dry land. Our relationship is over! Kaput! Finished! Dead in the water! And you, Chuck, will keep your innuendo as well as your hands to yourself whenever you are within a fifty mile radius of Einarr, is that clear?”
“Yes, yes. Whatever you want,” Chuck was on the verge of tears of pain.
“My, my, when did you develop balls?” Robert was attempting sarcasm but he'd gone distinctly pale.
“Now, gentlemen,” Gus said to his three friends. “We have a show to plan.”
They swept out like royalty and its entourage, missing the snarl of vindictiveness from Robert. He was far from finished with his ex.
The Viking Stripper's act was the culmination of the night's entertainment. No one expected a long show, just a glimpse of cock, enough to titillate so that some men would go home with thei
r partners to fantasize about Einarr as they fucked their lover, leaving others to masturbate over what they would love to do to him if they were ever lucky enough to get their hands on him, and a few to prowl the decks and passageways seeking a substitute for the evening.
It was a big ask. So far Gus had failed miserably at transforming the clumsy footed troll into anything even remotely approaching erotic. Even less the aesthetics of stripping. They had managed to purloin the use of the theatre to rehearse. Paul set up the sewing machine they'd borrowed from the tailor on board on a back table together with enough fabric to spin quite a few fantasy costumes. Someone on board had raided the trannie closet when they'd stocked up on costumes and fabrics for the various parties that were to take place on the high seas. The only problem Paul could see was a shortage of Velcro to enable swift and smooth removal of the costumes. His mouth watered when he took Einarr's measurements. While the others were absorbed in technicalities of the act, Einarr had pulled Paul's head to his crotch until his lips kissed the hardening weapon.
“Ooh, you are a bad boy,” Paul giggled as he kissed the prick before taking the opportunity of clamping his mouth around it for a few quick deep throatings. Then he released it with a sigh and a finger wave. “Don't you go telling tales out of school.”
Einarr laughed. “I won't if you won't.”
Paul took it for what it was. A gesture. A gesture of thanks in the only way Einarr knew how. And one that Paul would treasure for years to come. It's not that he and Stewart were totally faithful to each other, they'd both had their slip-ups, but never with a specimen like this one. Even just to wrap his lips around Einarr's cock was more than he'd ever hoped. Einarr also knew it would make him fiercely loyal and more inclined to work harder for the success of the act.