1. Union of Spirits

Transcript

There's nothing like a wedding to make you feel out of place, even if it's for a friend. Well, a friend of a friend, who may or may not have had too much to drink before the ceremony and has left you to fend for yourself in a sea of faces that you barely remember from high school. I feel a little guilty because I'm being a terrible guest at this thing, but hey, I don't know 90% of the people here and my safety net is busy sweating out his cocktails to cool in the gang.

I keep migrating around the pristinely ornate banquet hall, sipping on the same flat gin and tonic and trying to blend in with the background. You take me by surprise as I pass you, noting that this is the third time and I haven't even said hello. I turn to see you, ready to apologize, but when my eyes meet yours, it's like I can't even find the words.

It's been years, but you still look as radiant as ever and, frankly, you're knocking the rest of the wedding party out of the park. We hug and you give me a fleeting squeeze on the small of my back that breaks me out of my haze. Parting, I am just so taken by your eyes.

I always was in high school too, but back then I wouldn't have had the comfort to just take them in like I am now. Holy shit. I apologize for the pregnant pause, but it's just so good to see you.

It feels like I'm dreaming, which sounds corny, but in any case, we find an empty table and ease into conversation. I have always loved the way that you speak, and taking you in now is something else. There's such a beauty in the small ways your body moves in communication, and even though we're seated close, I find I keep leaning in closer to hear every word.

We share about each other's worlds, our passions, anxieties, growing nearer the longer we speak. Then we pause, suddenly aware of how close we're leaning. I look down to see your hand resting on mine, so I turn mine over to let our palms meet, the warmth between them radiating up my arm.

I ask if it would be a good time to admit how big a crush I had on you in high school, resting my thumb on your finger, and met with your cheeky smile that tells me this has crossed your mind before too. You push your fingers between mine and tell me that it's about time. I feel a heavy blush spreading across my cheeks, and I ask if I can kiss you.

I can feel my heart beating in my face, which is the last feeling I would have expected at this wedding. We are all eyes as you nod slowly, yes. We're so close our knees graze each other, passing between.

My knee brushes against your upper inner thigh, and yours mine. I can feel my softness break up below, that first aroused flush making it grow. My eyes flicker, and we move to each other, locking in a kiss.

It feels like it's been too long coming. I run my hand along your neck, feeling its curve that bristles with hair in the back, the soft play of our lips parting just enough to let saliva lubricate their creases. It's ridiculous.

I can feel every small movement your mouth makes against mine, and involuntarily I let out a small gasp into yours. Then we part, both flushed and short of breath. Wow, hi again.

Smiling you pull me closer to you, squeezing my thigh, this time deeper and more intent. Okay, come on, I manage and take you by the hand, half walking, half running past the drunken Macarena going on to our left. The hallway outside the main hall is significantly darker and devoid of life, other than us two.

On one end of the hall is what appears to be a large storage closet, likely for the sets of chairs and tables currently in use. That'll do. We disappear into its darkness and close the door.

It's pitch black in here, and if I didn't still have hold of your hand I fear I'd lose you. But instead I bring you close to me, one hand around your waist, gently thumbing the crux of your back, the other bringing your face to mine. I graze your lip with my teeth, sucking in the sweet taste of sugar trapped behind it from whatever drink you had earlier.

You let out a short breath and grab my ass in your hands, taking in its supple firmness and pushing us against what I realize is a stack of chairs. Without leaving your lips, I lift your leg around me and feel your heat press into mine, cupping your cheek in my palm and rubbing my fingers into its smooth fullness. You press your tongue deep into my mouth and I suck it, letting you tongue fuck me as I make my hand down the curve of your ass.

Soon enough I can feel the very edge of your wetness seeping through your underwear to meet the tips of my fingers, and you moan into my mouth. I can feel your hand fumbling for my zipper in the dark, so I help you out, I'm zipping my slacks and letting you reach inside and pull free my wet, impulsing cock. You press your thumb against the beading tip and rub my pre-cum around the swollen head until it's lubricated.

You press me against the wet mound under your soaked fabric, hard enough that I can feel the ridged outline of your clit as you toy with yourself. I realize I'm holding my breath and let out a rigid exhale as you wrap your hand around my shaft. Then, out of nowhere, the unmistakable jostling of the door.

Fuck. We stumble around trying to find something to hide behind, but the best I can do is manage to put my cock away before the door opens. The silhouette of one of the banquet hall employees fills the now-blinding rectangle of light before us.

He looks as surprised as I feel, and before I can think of anything else, I blurt out, Where's the bathroom? I'm drunk. Unamused, he tells us it's on the other end of the hall and stands aside to let us scramble out, full of nerves and stifled smiles.

We exit the building and laugh like kids at a sleepover, and you ask if I want to join you at yours. I smile. Maybe I could be talked into it.

You ruffle my hair and tell me to meet you back at the guest hotel in 30 minutes, room 412. I take you in as you climb into the shuttle, and as it drives away, take a seat on the steps of the banquet hall. It's nothing like a wedding.

It's nothing like a wedding.