Unwanted Wedding

"I believe I will stay on the ship and take a nap," the count announced to those assembled. Then he turned to Parker and spoke in a more circumspect tone. "I have hotel rooms in the city, but Gabriella has been gracious enough to assign me Stateroom 3 for my needs. You know where that stateroom is, don't you?"

"Yes, I believe it's just below us here," Parker answered. "I should find out what Gabby is doing this afternoon."

"I believe she and Nita have final fittings at a fashion house for their wedding dresses. They'll take Francois with them," the count answered in a quiet voice. He had a slight smile on his face, enjoying Parker's indecision.

"Do you think Gabby knows that—?"

"Of course Gabriella knows," Fabbri said. "She loves this yacht. She knows she's buying you. She has no objection to your doing a bit of open-legs work for me to accord her the means to buy you. Shall we say a half hour? Shower and prepare well, please."

* * * *

When Parker entered Stateroom 3, he at first thought the cabin was empty, and the disappointment of that surprised him. His only thought had been to ensure that he and Gabby could maintain the lifestyle they had, which was tinged by irritation at the attention Gabby was giving Francois. Beyond that, the count was a hunk for his age. Having said he'd let the man fuck him and knowing Gabriella wanted that, Parker was ready for the man. Thinking that the count had not shown up for the assignation brought home to Parker that he, in fact, found the older man and his straightforward, bold approach sexually arousing.

Parker wanted to lie under the count. He was intrigued by the thought that the man could be both refined and as straightforward as his talk of sex was in performing as a top. Would he comment glibly and baldly on what they were doing as they did it? Parker found that arousing. That Gabby seemed to be accepting of the notion of her ex-husband laying her soon-to-be husband and would, in fact, benefit from it, gave Parker license to give in to his own desires.

The cabin was empty, but only because Count Fabbri was on the balcony beyond, leaning back against the rail, only in a silken robe loosely open to reveal the man's still-hard, lean body, tumble of silver-gray hair, swirling around his pecs and then descending to a trimmed bush, and an extraordinarily long, cut cock in semierection. He was leisurely smoking a brown-papered cigarette and watching Parker slowly walk across the cabin toward him. The count held out the hand not holding a cigarette and commanded, "Stop and strip there, please."

Parker did so, slowly, neatly folding his shorts, T-shirt, and bikini briefs and placing them on a nearby chair.

"Turn for me; slowly turn around." Parker complied. "Face away from me; bend over; spread your cheeks. Show me the hole." Parker did as bade. "Very nice. Now turn and stroke yourself." After a few minutes, with Parker's breathing thickening as he stood and masturbated himself, the count commanded. "Come here, kneel to me."

The unusual preliminaries were driving Parker crazy. He was hard as steel.

When Parker reached him, the count flicked his cigarette over the rail, placed his hands on Parker's shoulders, and forced the young man onto his knees, presenting his cock for sucking. Without further instruction, Parker sucked the mammoth cock. At length, the count roughly pulled Parker up to his feet and propelled him backward, making Parker fall back into a patio chair on the balcony. As Parker, briefly breathless, watched in shock at the sudden roughness and strength of the older man, Fabbri produced a condom packet from the pocket of his robe and crowned himself. This only took a few seconds, though, and the count was back on the physical assault, grabbing Parker's legs and raising them and bending them over the patio chair arms on either side, pulling Parker down in the chair so that his rump was pulled to the edge of the seat and rolled up, crouching over him, and said, in a matter-of-fact voice, "Now we shall see how quickly and how much your ass can be stretched."

Parker cried out in surprise and pain, as the count thrust inside him and took him swiftly and brutally in long, vigorous, deep strokes. While Fabbri trapped Parker in the chair and fucked him, he held Parker's head to the chair back rim with a grip on the young man's throat with one hand, and he stroked Parker off with the other hand.

"You open for me nicely," he muttered. "Stretch, baby, stretch. Take it."

Groaning, Parker stretched and took it, somehow managing to take the huge cock moving inside him.

After he'd come, the count pulled out of Parker and went into the cabin, leaving Parker there, moaning and breathing heavily. It hadn't been the fuck that Parker had imagined the elegant, refined-demeanor, patrician count would have given him. There was no affection or cuddling or coddling, kissing or touching. The count had taken him swiftly and hard with a godawful long, hard, and vigorous cock. It had been brutal and had left Parker gasping and totally fucked.

When Parker could get control over himself and was breathing normally, he pulled his legs off the arms of the patio chair with a groan, painfully stood, and entered the cabin. Fabbri was sitting on the foot of the bed, fondling his cock. Parker reached for his clothes on the nearby chair, but Fabbri arrested the movement with a growled, "No. Leave them. We aren't finished. Come here."

Parker meekly went over to the bed. He was a total submissive, immediately responding to domination and command. The count pulled him down onto his lap, the young man's torso going in one direction and his legs in the other. Fabbri's hardening monster cock poked up into Parker's belly. As the older man held Parker's torso down with an arm pinning down his shoulder blades, he proceeded to spank Parker's exposed butt cheeks with the other hand, pausing occasionally to stroke Parker's hard cock and also to finger fuck Parker's passage. Parker groaned and moaned, occasionally emitting an exclamation when a stroke of the hand was particularly stinging or the pad of a finger rubbed his prostate.

The count spanked Parker's cheeks red until, with that, the sensation of the count's hard cock throbbing against his belly, the periodic stroking of his cock, and the finger fucking contributed to Parker's release of his cum. When the young man had ejaculated, the count rose and turned Parker belly down to the bed, his feet on the floor, and his arms flung out over his head, fists bunching up gobs of bedspread, and his mouth yawning open in an expression of passionate pleasure-agony. Fabbri mounted him closely from behind, pressed down on the small of the man's back with one hand, and grabbed a handful of Parker's hair with the other, arching the young man's head back painfully. He thrust hard and deep inside Parker's channel and vigorously rode him to the count's second coming.

Fabbri left Parker there, in a puddle on the floor at the foot of the bed, moaning blowing bubbles. Before he left, he said, "Remember that nothing is taken from me without pain and hard work." And then the count was gone.

Amidst loud, boisterous discussion, the rest of the crew returned to the Gabrielle near dusk, and Parker and the count, now both honestly being able to say they napped in the afternoon, joined them for drinks on the fantail to watch the effect of the sun setting over the sea to the west on the buildings of Naples, backed by Mount Vesuvius to the west. No one asked the two men how they had spent their afternoon, and Parker made sure there was a good distance between him and the count. For his part, the count was all elegance and patrician good manners, floating around and gracing all with his erudite and witty presence.

From time to time the count looked over at Parker, giving him a benevolent "I own you" look. There was no doubt in the young man's mind that this was so. If this was a deal with the devil, Parker had taken the deal with open arms. The count was masterful and exciting.

The count left soon after dinner, and, for the first time since that afternoon when his touch had been controlling and brutal, he pulled Parker out onto the deck where the launch waited for him in the water below to take him into the Naples harbor. Roberto had already gone down the rope ladder to the launch.

"I had thought that would be enough of you for me," he said to Parker. "But I found I was wrong. You are as sweet and compliant as I would wish."

"You wish to redo the agreement on Gabby keeping the ship and the stipend for a while?" Parker asked.

"No. This has nothing to do with that. Here take this."

"What's this?" Parker asked.

"It's spare key card to my suite at the Romeo Hotel on the Naples waterfront. I'll not be coming to the wedding. If you won't either, you can come to me there."

"Why wouldn't I be coming to the wedding?"

"Think about it," the count said. "Gabriella invited me here, knowing what I likely would want to do. And she invited your former lover here too. She is obviously absorbed in Nita's model, Francois. I know from watching you that you have second thoughts about this wedding. Have you not considered that Gabriella has second thoughts about it too? That contrasts with me. I know exactly what I want."

"And what is it that you want?" Parker asked.

"You," the count answered in quick response. "I thought of you as something just to use as a toy and to enjoy in revenge. But I've found you are so much more than that. I want you with me, not with Gabriella—for however long she had planned to have you."

And then he was gone, down the rope ladder, to the launch.

It was time to pay some attention to Gabby, and, trying not to give thought to what the count said, Parker went back to the fantail salon. Very few were there. Nita was holding court, with Philip at her side, and Steve was behind the bar, making himself a drink and looking a little thunderous. Gabby wasn't there. Neither was Francois. Parker left the lounge, after his eyes met, first with Philip, and then with Steve. Parker avoided the needy look in Steve's eyes. Kurt was there at the side and he gave Parker a knowing look, as if he knew what the count, who was a take-all dominator just as Kurt was, and Parker had been doing that afternoon. And he probably did know, Parker acknowledged to himself.

Parker went out to the ship's foyer. Stairs went up to the executive staterooms on the fourth deck and down to other staterooms on the second deck. Parker went up. The master stateroom was to the left, at the stern. Two smaller, but still premium, staterooms were to the right, toward the bow. Nita and Philip were in one of those and the other had been reserved for the count and Roberto, but the count preferred to stay on land, in Naples. Parker turned left and took a step. But Philip was right behind him and put out at hand to stop him.

"Gabby's not alone," he warned in a low voice. "She's just doing some last-minute hurrah. It doesn't mean anything."

"She's with Francois, of course," Parker said. Philip didn't answer. "She didn't promise fidelity," Parker continued.

"Or demand it of you either, did she?" The voice was that of Steve Talbot. He had followed them up the stairs. "You can't stay there tonight. Come on downstairs to deck two. There are a couple of unoccupied staterooms down there."

"Yeah, like Stateroom 3," Parker said, a little bitterly.

Both of the other men gave him a questioning look, but Parker didn't explain. He also didn't balk when Steve guided him down two levels of stairs. Philip broke off on Deck 4 to return to Nita. Steve took Parker to his own cabin. Parker didn't question that.

Parker didn't question what was happening when they entered the cabin, either, and Steve began kissing him—or when Steve began to undress him, or when Steve knelt in front of him and took Parker's cock in his mouth. Parker had no questions or objections when Steve guided him to the bed and gently pushed him down there on his back, and then proceeded to hover over him, moving his hands and lips down Parker's body and making sensual, passionate love to him.

With a thought to what Gabby was doing in their stateroom, Parker gave no resistance—just moans and sighs—when Steve placed a pillow under the small of his back to elevate and roll his pelvis up and then knelt between Parker's bent and spread legs, slowly entered him and began stroking inside him. Groaning and sobbing quietly, remembering how it had once been between them and what an attentive and loving lover Steve had been and still could be, Parker clung to the man crouched over him and set his pelvis into the motion of the gentle rolling, deep penetrating fuck.

"Oh, shit, yes. Fuck me. Take me!" Parker cried out, turning his thighs out, taking Steve deep, setting his channel wall muscles to undulate over the other virile, muscular young man's hard, throbbing cock, as Steve did just that and the two fucked on and on and on.

Outside the cabin door, the German manager, Kurt, paused as he passed by to his own cabin. He smiled and continued on to his own cabin. One of the young staff members of the yacht crew was standing by the door to Kurt's cabin, trembling and attempting a shy smile. Kurt smiled back as he unbuckled his belt, pulled it out of the loops, folded it over, and snapped it against his thigh. The young cabin attendant wouldn't be smiling for long.

* * * *

Parker and Steve lay there in Steve's bed the next morning, listening to the yacht come alive with activity and then quiet down again. They heard a launch leave and knew that the women were off again to Naples to pick up their dresses. They obviously had taken some of the men with them as well. When all was quiet, Parker rolled out of the bed, dressed, and padded back up to Deck 4 to the master stateroom to shower and change close.

When he came down to the fantail dining area, he found only Kurt present. A young waiter took his order and moved around gingerly in obvious pain, looking warily at Kurt as he passed by him. Still, there was a slight smile on the waiter's face. There was a broader one on Kurt's. The waiter yelped on his last pass when Kurt slapped him on the buttocks. The waiter scurried back to the galley, leaving Parker and Kurt alone.

"So, you are reverting again?" Kurt asked, giving Parker a smile.

"Excuse me? What does that mean?" Parker asked.

"The count yesterday afternoon and your old boyfriend last night. The countess couldn't keep you away from men for long, could she?" And then, with Parker didn't answer right away, Kurt said. "I can help you with that, as you well know, after you've come into the family. The countess won't mind if I keep you purring when she's not using you."

"Purring? Is that the effect you think your sexual techniques have on men?" Parker asked, having found his voice. Kurt had moved toward him, but he'd moved away. It was all bravado, though. If Kurt persisted in moving toward him, Parker knew he'd give in eventually. As dangerous and taxing as Kurt was, Parker had melted to him at one time and couldn't guarantee he wouldn't do so again if desperate for sex. Kurt fucked him differently from most men. He applied pain with leather. He completely dominated. Experiencing that in small doses was arousing to Parker.

"You enjoyed it with me before. I watched the video of the count spanking you. You enjoyed that."

"The video?"

"Yes, I have the cabins under surveillance. Does that surprise you?"

Nothing surprised Parker about what the German would do.

"Being spanked arouses you, I clearly could see. As I remember, whipping you made you hard as a rock and screaming for it when I finally penetrated you. We could get started today. Now. The countess will be gone for hours. We could—"

"I'm afraid Paul"—Steve had refused to take on the Parker name change that had been given to Paul—"is booked for the day. A groomsman's job is to keep the groom busy and out of trouble the day before the wedding. He and I are going to find a beach. Sorry, we're taking the small runabout. It will only hold two." Steve Talbot had shown up in the dining room.

Although there had been no such plans to the once-again Paul's knowledge, he grabbed at them now, and swept out of the dining room behind Steve.

Kurt took another swig of his coffee and smiled. From his perspective he had all the time in the world. Once Paul and Gabrielle were married, there would be days at sea with Paul trapped on board with Kurt. Paul was a complete submissive. It would take much effort for Kurt to master him—just opportunity.

Steve took the runabout around the southern side of the Capri and the peninsula jutting out from the Bay of Naples toward the island. He putted into a small, deserted beach, protected by rocks and a cliff on all sides near the seaside village of Praiano. Other than the two of them, the beach was deserted. They took advantage of that to strip down to the buff and cavorted in the surf until they nearly were exhausted.

They lay on towels on the beach, Paul on his belly and Steve stretched out close to him on his side. As Paul dozed, Steve explored the young man's body with his hand, bringing Paul to a purring arousal, signaled by Paul raising up slightly on his knees, presenting his bare buttocks to Steve and giving his old boyfriend a dreamy look. Steve moved his body over Paul's, holding the other young man's body close to his. Paul gave a groan and a long gasp as Steve slid inside him and began a long, slow, deep fuck, which Paul immediately melded to in rhythm. They were barebacking as they had always enjoyed doing when it was just the two of them in Steve's New York City apartment on eveningd after Steve, the publisher's book editor assigned to Paul, had gone over the chapter of a novel manuscript with Paul.

After they both had come, they continued lying there, Steve on top of Paul, both of them attuned to Steve going flaccid, both of them knowing they would fuck again after they'd rested.

"Come back to New York with me," Steve whispered. "Let's try again. That's where you belong, not here as some old woman's boy toy."

"Gabby isn't just some old woman, Steve. And I need support if I'm going to be free enough to write novels. I'm not sure my publisher—your employer—would prefer how I've been to the freedom to write that being married to Gabby will give me."

"You're possibly right, Paul. But none of that matters to me. I'm skipping the wedding. Philip knows I can't stand there and see you do this, and he says he understands. I'll be at the airport in Rome tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. with an extra ticket I won't release until just before boarding. The plane is overbooked, so they'll be delighted if I release the ticket. I hope I won't have to. But for now, I think you can tell what I want." They both could see that he was in erection again.

"Yes, I want that too. But maybe . . . maybe you could . . ."

"Maybe I could what?"

"Perhaps a little pain. Just to lift me a bit higher."

Steve sighed. "I had forgotten that about you." He reached over to his clothes, pulled his belt out of the loops of his shorts, looped the belt, and sat astride Paul's calves, as the young man lay on his belly under him. He raised the belt and brought it down on Paul's bare buttocks. Paul flinched and groaned. Again. Paul whimpered a "Yes, yes." Again and then again.

Then Steve stopped striking, lowered his chest on Paul's back, and started fucking again.

* * * *

2:00 p.m. on the terrace of the Villa Lysis on Capri, overlooking the Bay of Naples. This was a popular venue for intimate weddings among the superrich. And this a double wedding that was more intimate than any others that had been held here. In addition to only one well-wisher, Kurt, the Countess Gabrielle Fabbri's manager, the wedding party itself was down to one groom, Philip Pettit, two brides, Nita Pelletier and Gabrielle Fabbri, and a last-minute walk on best man, Francois. Count Paulo Umberto Fabbri and his secretary, Roberto, were no shows. The designated groomsman, Steven Talbot, was missing. And, most important, the countess's intended groom and Philip Pettit's best man, Paul Parker Pettit, wasn't there.