Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J. K. Rowling

Note: sex scenes in Part 2 of this story.

Part 2/Chapter 12

Several weeks went by. Bellamy was a lot more relaxed, and it was recognised that occasional trembling attacks were normal for him. He always worked well, although he had more trouble than most keeping his balance in heavy seas. He seldom smiled, never laughed, and spoke little. They learned that they should not ask him about his past, as he became upset. He was a mystery, but he was treated with indulgence by most of the crew, and with a protective warmth by his cabin mates.

Their casual body contact extended to Bellamy, and this touching never bothered him. He was accustomed to living in different cultures, and the Italians always touched more than English. It was normal, and he enjoyed their warmth. As instructed, Mario took him to Dr. Raef every week to begin with, and then every fortnight. Bellamy was usually silent, but when he called her anything, it was always 'Catherine.' After a couple of months, he was no longer so thin, and she said that there was no need for him to come any more.

The work became routine, and he came to know the Crew Deck very well, including the large recreation room, for the use of them all. It had a table tennis table, a few dart boards available, and a large TV, usually used to show taped films. None of his jobs included any contact with passengers, although sometimes he helped with some early morning cleaning. Always he was rostered with one or more of his cabin-mates, not always Mario.

They were cruising the Mediterranean, frequently calling into ports, where the passengers would go ashore. It was so familiar to the crew, that even if they had a day off, they quite often didn't bother going off the ship. But Bellamy's cabin-mates thought it might be a treat for Bellamy, and when they came to Marseilles, and Nino and the twins had some time off, they took him with them. He was a responsibility though, and they nearly lost him for good in a market, when he wandered off in the wrong direction. For twenty minutes, they searched, getting worried and annoyed.

Bellamy hadn't realised yet that he was lost, but was quite pleased when he found Nino beside him again, and gave him his wide, innocent smile. He was not much rebuked, but they kept a much closer watch on him after that, and when four of them went out again that evening to visit a brothel, he definitely was not invited.

It was only occasionally after that, that he was allowed ashore, and Mario kept very close when he was, usually physically holding him by the hand or the arm. There were too many sights and sounds in the ports that distracted Bellamy, and the firm voice that compelled his obedience was called into play more often.

To their surprise, he pointblank refused to go ashore in Istanbul. He said that bad things always happened to him in Turkey. So when they went ashore, they left him with Chivas and told him to be good. Bellamy was being tamed, as Mario set out to do from the start. One evening, Mario put his arm around his shoulders as they sat on the couch watching TV. Bellamy relaxed into the warmth. A few days later, it was Taddeo who wrapped him in a bear hug merely because he laughed with them at a joke they suspected he didn't understand. He was seeming happier, and was less vague.

Nino took him to the ship's shop one day, and he supplied himself with new underwear, a new wallet, and on Nino's suggestion, some swimmers. He was pleased with his swimmers, putting them on again that evening, and admiring himself. All the cabins had a full length mirror, where crew members were supposed to check their appearance before being seen by passengers.

Angelo was admiring his body. He really was beautifully built. "Do you want to go swimming, Henry?" he asked.

Bellamy gave him his innocent smile. "Yes."

He couldn't go swimming by himself, as the swimming pool was not on the Crew Deck. All six of his cabin-mates decided they'd also go swimming in the warm evening. The warmth of the men was felt by Bellamy, and he only pressed closer when Mario put an arm around him. Only one of the three swimming pools was available to crew members, but it was the longest one. No-one else was there, and they splashed and played for a while, and then Bellamy started lapping the pool in a smooth, easy stroke, apparently untiring.

The six others tired of it after a while, and sat watching him.

"What do you reckon?" asked Bruno.

"Maybe if we don't frighten him," said Angelo.

Mario frowned. "We'll have to go very slowly..." But he, too, wanted Bellamy. He wanted to love him, not just to have sex with him. But he was a kind man. Only if Bellamy wanted it, too. There was to be no suggestion of coercion, though they all knew that merely using a firm tone would always ensure that Bellamy did what he was told, even when reluctant for some reason.

In the shower room later, they soaped each other and splashed each other, and then Nino announced that he was going to shampoo Bellamy's hair. Bellamy made no objection, and Nino caressed as he worked. Afterward, Bellamy sat on the floor between his legs, as Nino combed out the long hair.

"Why do you wear it so long?" asked Mario, curiously, watching.

"Julie says I have to," Bellamy said.

"Who's Julie, Henry?" Mario asked.

A baffled, sad look crossed the face of Bellamy, and he stared into the distance. Nino couldn't see his face from his position above him, and he asked, as Mario had. "Who's Julie?"

Bellamy didn't answer, and he repeated the question. Bellamy finally spoke, "I think she's dead," and he started to tremble, as he always did when they asked questions about his past.

Mario gave Nino an accusing look. They'd all seen the scars on his body, including three parallel stripes on his right side that looked quite recent, and the white bracelets on his wrists that had to have come from being tied up at some stage. They thought there must be horrors in his past, and maybe that was why he was so strange.

That night, Angelo and Mario entered the sleeping cabin a half hour after the others. They'd been in the other room together. They mostly went there now. Bellamy wasn't really one of them, and they were discreet in their sex lives, except for the twins, who seemed not to be able to help themselves. They were all asleep. Bruno snored softly, and Bellamy muttered and fretted in his sleep, as he almost always did.

Mario spoke softly. "He doesn't sound very happy, does he?"

"Why don't you sleep with him then?" said Angelo. "You do me good! Maybe you'll do him good, too."

The next night, Angelo told Bellamy that he had to stay with him for a little while in the TV room. Unquestioning, Bellamy stayed with him in the TV room for a little while, and only nodded when Angelo announced that it was time to get ready for bed. He was still with Angelo when they entered the sleeping cabin.

Bellamy looked around in bewilderment. Where was his bed?

Mario pointed to the mattresses pressed together on the floor, where a double bed was prepared. "You're sleeping there from now on, Henry," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Bellamy nodded. He was sleeping there from now on. He stripped to underpants, as he normally did.

"Take off your underpants, Henry," said Angelo. "Grown-up men sleep nude." And Angelo cast aside his own clothes and slipped between the sheets of his own bed.

Bellamy took off his underpants, put them in the laundry basket, and got into the bed on the floor. Mario, as furry as a bear, got into the bed with him, and told him to turn on his side. Bellamy did as he said, and Mario cuddled close to his back, putting an arm around him. The reaction was unexpected. Bellamy snuggled into the warmth of his body, sighed deeply like a tired child, and went straight to sleep.

Mario was stunned. He'd expected nervousness, resistance maybe, not this total trust and peaceful sleep. Bellamy always slept badly. That night he slept like an innocent. And whatever Mario had intended beforehand, that night he only held him with love, and shared his warmth.

The others, Angelo especially, stayed awake a long time, listening to the sounds from the bed on the floor. Mario always huffed and puffed like a steam train when he had sex. It was a bit of a joke among them. And they didn't know how Bellamy would react, either. He'd apparently not been at all disturbed when the twins had sex in the cabin when he was there, and he responded to the non-sexual caresses they gave him with a total acceptance.

For Bellamy, the extended body contact was balm for a wounded soul. It was so long since Julie had been with him, and, except for the disastrous interlude with Francesca, he hadn't even had the close contact of sex for many years.

They asked Mario about it, of course. Mario just said that he couldn't touch him, that Bellamy trusted him, and he would not do anything he might not like in bed. And he said in a tone of wonder, "Did you see how he slept! He's always talking in his sleep, sometimes, I think, even crying. But he slept in my arms just so peacefully."

The second night, Mario became restless, and finally slipped out of bed and went to Nino. A little later, Bellamy roused slightly, and half-smiled. It was only Mario and Nino, and he was asleep again when Mario wrapped his arm around him.

Over the next weeks, Bellamy became accustomed to sleeping on a mattress on the floor, embraced by the big, plain man with kindness in his soul. Sometimes he felt the warmth of an erection pressing against his thighs. It never occurred to him to feel threatened. Angelo asked Mario how he could bear it. Sleeping so close. Surely it would be so easy just to slip it in, maybe pushing him on his face so that he couldn't pull away. Mario was offended. Did Angelo think he had no self control? And he told him again, "He trusts me!"

But he did find it difficult. The boy slept in his arms, and he was naked. Nino was quite often woken at night, when it became too much, or Bruno if Nino grumbled too much.

But they all wanted Bellamy, not just Mario. There was something about the beautiful body allied with the innocent gaze, that was devastatingly attractive. And Mario had been supposed to be getting him accustomed to it. Mario was his 'special friend,' but special friend meant a sexual relationship, as well.

Angelo put his mind to it. Mario refused to do it in bed, so maybe there was something else they could do. That evening, as he checked the water in the spas and tidied and cleaned the saunas, he started to think. A spa was so relaxing, and Mario insisted that if anything be done, it should be very slow and gradual. Henry should not be frightened, as he'd been so frightened when the crew of the Marchesa had tried to rape him. Man to man sex wasn't automatically painful. It just required gentleness and appropriate preparation, more, of course, for a novice. It was almost automatic for the experienced men to relax muscles, and receive pleasure. But a novice was often upset the first time, and quite often hurt, especially if there had been coercion involved. And force, of course, was very traumatic. There was the probability of injury, too, with a forceful penetration.

The spa-rooms were always closed after ten at night for cleaning, but Angelo was responsible for the cleaning and maintenance, and if he chose to allow his friends to use one late at night, no-one would object. One of the spa rooms was larger than the others, and Angelo looked at it speculatively. There was room for a massage table, even the size of the one he had in mind. He worked out carefully what size was needed. The maintenance men cooperated, although one commented that it seemed a bit wide for a massage table. And when Angelo organised a foam mattress to go on it, it was quite a bit more narrow.

When all was ready, Bellamy was told they were all going to have a spa together. He did what the others did, picking up his towel, and unhesitatingly undressing and entering the hot water of the eight-man spa straight after Mario. The door was locked, and the frosted window covered with the large sign that announced that it was closed for cleaning. Detailed planning had been going on. And there was an eroticism in the mere fact that they would be progressing so slowly. Angelo put aside his impatience, and agreed with Mario. Absolutely, Bellamy would not be frightened and not be hurt. In the end, they'd all have him, and then he'd truly be one of them.

Mario told Bellamy to go to Angelo, and Angelo held him, cuddled him, and caressed his body, although not touching genitals. Then Nino. All was gentleness, all was tenderness. The hot water bubbled around them, gently soothing away tensions.

"Massage?" Angelo casually asked Nino. Nino nodded, and Bellamy was told to go to Silvio, who held out his hands to him from his position where they could easily see the massage table.

Bellamy watched as Nino climbed onto the table, and lay face down, with his pelvis lying across a bolster, which raised his bottom. His arms were down by his sides, and legs were parted, his knees and lower legs lying down beside the edges of the foam rubber mattress that covered the centre of the large table. Angelo and Mario, stood at his shoulders, holding, stroking, kneading muscles. Bruno and Taddeo held and stroked legs and buttocks. Nino closed his eyes in utter bliss. It felt so good!

Silvio commented to Bellamy. "That's the position best for total relaxation. You can see Nino, how he's enjoying it."

Silvio hoped that he wouldn't notice that the men around Nino, without exception, were sporting large erections. Bruno was rather spectacular, as he always was. That was something that hadn't entered their calculations. No sex in front of Bellamy - not yet. And he raised his voice a little. "Me next?"

Silvio was next, but that was enough for the evening, and they returned to their cabin. Bellamy was sent to bed, and while Angelo did a quick mop of the floor of the spa-room, helped by Bruno, the other men went to the TV room, and enjoyed each other. They wondered why they hadn't used the spas and performed massages before. That massage was incredibly sensual, and restraining themselves when first Nino, and then Silvio lay in that utterly available position had nearly driven them crazy. It was going to be even harder when it was their Henry in that position, and they had to do nothing - yet.

The following evening, Mario had a turn at being on the massage table, looking rather comical, with his big hairy bottom raised. Bellamy was left in the spa alone this time, so that there was an extra man to kneel between Mario's legs, and from that position, give a really good massage. And when Taddeo had a turn, Mario knelt between his legs, and massaged, although he didn't have the knack that a couple of the others did.

Mario went back to Bellamy in the spa then, holding him close, caressing his flanks and shoulders.

During the following weeks, Bellamy became accustomed to the attention he received in the spa, and on the massage table. Their caresses in the spa became a little more intimate, but he scarcely seemed to notice.

"You need a massage every night," Mario told him, "Because you get too nervy," and from then on, whoever else had a turn, Bellamy always had a turn. And because he'd seen the others, he was not worried when he was put in that same vulnerable position, and someone knelt between his legs.

He was thriving on the treatment, cuddled and held in the spa every evening, and held close every night, all night. He slept peacefully now, always, and started to talk more, sometimes surprising his friends with the strange things he told them. There was an occasion when he leaned on the railing of the ship, reluctant to go to his dinner. And when Nino and Mario asked what he saw, he gave them a big, innocent smile, and told them there were merpeople down there. They were confused for a moment, and then Nino asked, "Do you mean mermaids, Henry?"

Bellamy was looking back at the water, and agreed, but added, "But there are men, women and children of course, it's only sailors that think only a maid can be a merperson."

Nino loved playing with his hair. It was always shining clean, even when he didn't seem to shampoo it very often. The white strands fascinated Nino, and he'd run them through his fingers. He had Bellamy between his knees in the TV room one day, putting it into long plaits, and laughing afterwards at the effect. They were all there, idly watching Bellamy being fussed over. Silvio and Taddeo sat together, playing with each other, as they so frequently did, until Silvio firmly told his twin it was enough, they'd play later.

Taddeo turned his attention to Bellamy, and asked, curiously, how old he was.

"Pretty old, I think," said Bellamy.

Taddeo persisted, and the others were looking interested, too. They couldn't get a definite answer out of him, and Angelo finally asked where his passport was. To their surprise, he took it from his pocket.

Angelo studied it. "You're twenty-four, Henry. Your birthday's next week."

Bellamy nodded, "Twenty-four."

"Do you always carry your passport with you?" asked Angelo.

Bellamy nodded. "I get lost sometimes, so I have to always carry my passport and always carry my backpack when I'm walking."

"Where's your backpack now?"

"In my cupboard."

Mario leaned forward. "What's in your backpack, Henry?"

Bellamy looked vague. "Spare clothes, I think. There might be some bread, too."

Mario smiled. "I'd best have a look." Was he going to find four month old bread tucked into the backpack?

The backpack looked to be untouched since Mario had first seen it, stuffed apparently full, with a ragged towel poking out.

"Have you opened this since you left the Marchesa, Henry?" he asked.

Bellamy looked vague and said that he didn't know. He wasn't objecting to Mario unpacking it, and Mario removed the crumpled towel, and then pulled out some jeans and a shirt that had apparently been stuffed in without any attempt to fold them. A filthy object also fell out. His underpants, covered with old blood.

Mario wrinkled his nose. "This must be from when you had that fight," he said. "They're disgusting. I'll throw them away."

Bellamy was looking increasingly vague, his eyes wandering. Jeans and shirt were laid out. They too had blood on them, probably from the underpants. They were very shabby, almost falling to pieces. There was no jumper, and nothing that was warm. It was a pitiful collection, and Mario looked away, tears in his eyes. Nino pulled Bellamy's hair from the plaits, stroking it, and Angelo told him to get up now, it was time to go for a spa.

In the spa, as he was relaxed, basking in the warmth, cuddled between the twins, Angelo asked him what he remembered of the fight on the Marchesa.

But Bellamy said, "I don't fight. I'm not allowed."

Even when pressed, he seemed to have no memory of the fight, and no memory of those events that had preceded it. And when queried as to who said he wasn't allowed to fight, he told them it was because he was a crazy man, and crazy men were not allowed to fight because they might hurt someone.

Bellamy's memory was patchy, the clouds of confusion seemed to come and go, leaving sometimes thin patches in the fog. He still saw his wives occasionally, though he was unclear who the friendly ladies were, and they didn't speak to him these days, only smiled and nodded.

***chapter end***