New Hire Onboarding Pt. 06 - FINALE

"I can't do this anymore," Carl said, sitting in the passenger seat of The Driver's immobile black sedan.

"WHAT?!" The Driver spat. "You're joking, right? Carl, we've come so far! The IPO is tomorrow, and I'm driving you to your wedding right now." He jammed the keys into the ignition, started the car, and began the twenty-minute drive from Marc's apartment--where Carl had been staying for the last four days--to St. Michael's Cathedral just outside the city.

After choosing their engagement rings and wedding bands, Marc had gone full steam ahead with the planning. Flowers were arranged, catering was ordered, and long-standing favours were called in to secure the rather prestigious cathedral on such short notice.

"A place of worship can be prestigious? I thought it was for everyone, from the common man to the richest of the rich," Carl quipped, basking in post-coital bliss as Marc relayed the details; the older man's semen still oozed from Carl's tight hole. Neither Marc nor Carl had family to speak of and had even fewer friends, so they kept the wedding to an intimate guest list.

"Some of my business associates will be furious, of course, but they'll send cards and gifts as is to be expected," Marc said when Carl asked about inviting more people. And so they came. The day before the wedding, Marc's outstandingly large penthouse was filled to bursting with hampers, flowers, and parcels. Carl, revelling in the excess, began jotting down who sent what and who should get a thank-you card while Marc trailed him around the kitchen island.

"Some guy named Buckley sent you $100,000?!" Carl exclaimed, feeling Marc's beer-can-thick cock pierce in and out of his receptive hole, rubbing against his spot. Marc gripped Carl's slender waist, watching how his machinations made Carl's pert ass cheeks jiggle.

"He's an old school friend--made a fortune on some mobile game for China that I bankrolled," Marc said, sweat running down his brow as he thrust harder and faster into his fiancé's tight hole. Carl moaned, resting his head on the notebook's cool paper, overcome by the heat of Marc's hard appendage.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me cum all over my notes," Carl said with a smirk. He gripped the grey marble countertop as Marc pushed against his spot repeatedly. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum! I'm cumming!" he shouted, groaning as ropes of cum splashed against the island cupboards before hitting the floor. Marc dug his fingers into Carl's waist and let a torrential blast into his fiancé's tight asshole before collapsing onto his sweaty back.

On the morning of the wedding, Marc left Carl naked and still resting from another marathon night of lovemaking and headed to the cathedral to get things ready. When Carl finally stirred, he went through his routine: showered, shaved, and slathered on moisturiser and sunscreen before walking into the closet. Hanging at the end was his suit: a simple black suit with a smart, crisply pressed shirt and a red-and-gold tie. Neither Carl nor Marc wanted to, as they put it, "play into stereotypical wedding dress shit." Carl looked at himself in the mirror, smiled, and noticed a small bulge in his breast pocket. He fished out a note:

BELOVED, I CANNOT WAIT TO CALL YOU MY HUSBAND IN THREE HOURS. DON'T BE LATE; I'VE WAITED DECADES FOR YOU, AND YOUR SOULMATE IS DONE WAITING ;)

Carl reread the note until a tear fell. He wiped it away, gazed at his teary reflection, and dashed out of the apartment. Downstairs, The Driver stood by his car, door open, gesturing expectantly.

"Please, Adrian, I--I think I genuinely do love him," Carl pleaded as Adrian sped down the highway toward the cathedral. Carl had used The Driver's first name only once before, during a drunken hookup fueled by mutual loneliness and the intimacy of their shared plan.

"You fell for your mark? No pun intended," Adrian quipped as he took the exit toward the venue.

"Yes, I know, I'm an idiot, okay? But he's... nice and sweet. He cares for me, he listens to me, he makes me feel safe--"

"You've known each other less time than it takes milk to go bad. You're both idiots doing something impulsive. Just like we planned!" Adrian emphasised the last part as he turned right, then left, then stopped at a red light. He turned and looked at Carl--something he never did in his Driver role.

"Please, the IPO is still tomorrow. We can--uh--do something else to mess up the plan. Or I can work there a bit longer and keep gathering evidence!"

"ENOUGH!" Adrian shouted. Carl sat back, crossed his arms, and turned his face to the side, closing his eyes. Suddenly, he was transported back to the alcoholic din of his childhood home, and his reflexes kicked in.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Carl chanted repeatedly, half apology, half prayer.

Adrian sighed, faced the road, and drove in silence. He pulled into the cathedral's back parking lot and opened the door for Carl.

"Look, I'm grateful for you, and I just want to see this through. Okay?" Adrian said, placing his hands on Carl's shoulders. He leaned in and planted a soft kiss. The kiss turned passionate; Adrian's hands groped Carl's tense, suited figure. Adrian's assault grew intense before he was pulled to the ground.

"Get off him, you fucking weirdo!" Marc barked, sneering at Adrian, then turned to Carl and held him close. "What the hell is going on here?!"

"Marc, please, it was nothing. He was just--"

"For goodness' sake, Marc, can we not be done with this idiotic charade?" a deep voice called from behind. Damien, followed by Will, stepped out from behind a bush into the midday light. He took in the scene--Adrian on the ground, Marc and Carl together--and sighed. "Honestly, this isn't fun anymore. Marc, tell your little fiancé that we know all about their stupid plan."

"Marc?" Carl pulled away and looked at him. "Marc, is this true? You knew about me and Adrian's plans?"

"Of course, we knew, you little slut!" Will interjected from behind Damien. "Marc never joins our games, but when I sent you to hi,m and he fell for you, I knew we had to dig. Once we found out you were with this used-up whore, we were in cahoots."

Will kicked dirt toward Adrian. At the insult, Adrian rose and charged at Will, but stopped when Damien fixed him with a look.

"Hello again, Adrian. I must commend you--this was quite the plan. Roped in a pretty dumb boy after you turned down my offer. I could have made you something, you know, like the others. Instead, you get to sit here and watch your plan crumble." Damien stepped closer; Adrian stood stock-still.

"You're disgusting. You'll get what you deserve one day. You may have bought the cops and the press, but your time will come," Adrian spat, though his body trembled. Damien laughed.

"You don't get it, do you? It's not about the sex, it's about control! I'm in control! Me! You're all here because I orchestrated it so you'd be Will's--and my--little toys when you worked for us. I let Marc fall for this insipid boy. I paid off all those losers who we fucked and fucked around with. I let this happen, and now I'm putting an end to it." Damien reached into his jacket for his phone, fingers poised, then froze.

"So, you admit it?" Adrian asked, a look of vindication on his face. "Or is that something for your attorney? Oh, right, your attorney is one of those you... 'fucked and fucked around with.' I wouldn't have said that if I were you." Adrian smiled as notifications began popping up on Damien's screen.

"W-what have you done?" Damien stammered.

"Oh, nothing. I just tipped off a few friends that one of the city's richest men was getting married but wasn't inviting them. They asked me to livestream parts for a hefty sum. Which I, obviously, obliged--since, well, you know I'm just a dumb slut whose only use is as a receptacle for cum, right, Damien? That's what you said the day I turned down your bribe."

Soon, everyone's phones were out, screens lighting up like Christmas trees. Shutter clicks and flashes descended on the cathedral; reporters swarmed Damien, whose bewilderment froze his face. Adrian stepped aside and walked toward Marc and Carl. Both men watched, stunned.

"Sorry for ruining your wedding, guys, but I had to see this through," Adrian said. "Marc, I'm really sorry you had to be collateral damage."

"In a lot of ways, I understand. I didn't encourage them, but I didn't stop them, either. I'm sorry for that, and I'll spend the rest of my life paying for it," Marc said solemnly as the commotion grew. Damien grabbed Will and began to run, chased by athletic paparazzi. Once the crowd moved to the front, Adrian returned to Marc and Carl, leaving them alone.

"So you tried to trick me, huh?" Marc asked.

"And apparently you knew all along, eh?" Carl replied. They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Then the laughter stopped, and they embraced.

"I'm so sorry, Marc," Carl said, tears falling.

"No, I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should have stopped those two idiots years ago." Marc held Carl tight, feeling his warmth. A quiet, comforting silence settled over them even as a storm raged around the cathedral.

After a moment, Carl broke the silence. "So are you ready?"

"Ready? For what?" Marc asked.

"To do something stupid," Carl said with a wink.

"With you? Always."