I didn't see Tom again for a while.
Once I got home from Thanksgiving with my family, I fell back into my routine of mornings at the pool. I thought about rescheduling so I could go in the evenings on the hope of running into him, but as soon as the holiday season started in, that seemed impossible. Between drinks with friends and office parties and all the assorted commitments that pop up around Christmas, I was lucky to be able to drag myself out of bed to get to the pool half as often as I should have.
That said I still kept an eye open for him every time I showed up to swim, but I figured my hookup with Tom had been a one time thing--fun to jerk off to now and again, but not likely to repeat itself.
So when I saw him in a church, of all places, shooting me that grin from across the aisle, it took me a few seconds to place him.
Over the years, my friend Rachel and I had mad a tradition of going to listen to Handel's Messiah during the holidays, and there's a church in Chicago that hosts a big performance every year a few days before Christmas. Now that she had kids (who are, I admit, really fucking adorable) she and I don't go out as much as we used to, but after Rachel spent two Christmases moping about missing our concert tradition, her partner said she'd rather have a night alone with the kids than listen to another year of Rachel's complaining. So as long as I got Rachel home not too late and not too drunk, we could go sing our songs, hit some bars and pretend to be single again--which at this point I actually was.
To be honest, I looked forward to it as much as she did. They decorated the church to the nines, and with the lights low, it always evokes Christmas for me as much as anything I can think of. I'm not a religious guy, but with the choir singing and the candles burning, I can kind of see a world in which I might be.
It was after the Hallelujah chorus (yes, that one) that I turned around to take in the church behind me and saw Tom immediately, shooting me that same electric grin that turned my knees into jello back in the locker room. The soloist was singing about how "our redeemer liveth" and he gave me a little wave. Holy out-of-context, Batman.
I stared at him for a second, and then waved back. Rachel saw me and gave me a questioning glance, but I just shrugged and I turned back to the music. I kept my eyes forward but it took some effort. I swear I could feel him staring at me from across the room.
"Who was that?" she asked me before we were even done applauding at the end of the performance.
"Oh no one," I said. "Just a guy I know from the pool."
"He's hot! You should fuck him!"
"Jesus Christ, Rachel. We're in church!"
"You're the one taking the Lord's name in vain. Besides, Jesus knows he's hot."
I looked for him in the crowd as everyone was pulling on their coats, but he seemed to be gone.
"He is."
We fumbled our coats and scarves on--winter in Chicago is every bit as fucking frigid as they say it is--and headed out to grab a car to head to our traditional post "Messiah" gay bar. Halfway down the steps I felt a tug on my coat.
"Andy!"
There he was, beard a little tighter, eyes sparkling and, as Rachel said, totally hot.
"Oh, hey Tom! I thought we missed you." He grabbed me for a hug.
He introduced himself to Rachel, and as he was doing it I noticed the guy he was with. Shorter than him, and darker. Like Tom, he had a short cropped beard, but even thought he was smiling politely, he immediately struck me as a little shy. It was clear he didn't have Tom's confidence. Still, I liked him right away.
"This is my friend Trevor." We shook hands. "What are you guys up to tonight?"
"We're just here for the concert. We come every year. It's a tradition."
"And now we're going for drinks. You should join us," Rachel interrupted me almost immediately.
Tom glanced at Trevor and then at me. I didn't miss a beat.
"You should!"
Trevor shrugged, Tom agreed (with that fucking adorable grin of his) and we started arguing amicably about who should call a Lyft and whether we needed to split to cost.
Rachel got stuck in the middle seat of the Kia we all piled into, and in a few minutes we tumbled out at a low-key gay bar a few miles away.
We all grabbed beers (Now is the time that I should probably admit that Rachel and I had been drinking for a couple of hours. Lord, forgive me, we'd snuck a flask of bourbon into the church.) and got a table near the back. They were playing Dusty Springfield which pleased me inordinately.
Rachel kept asking how we knew each other, and Tom and I jointly constructed a story that didn't involve blowing each other in a sauna. Trevor smirked a little, but I wasn't entirely sure whether that meant he know what had happened between us or he was just trying to fit in. His eyes, I realized, were the color of dark honey.
He was a high school friend of Tom's ("We were on the Mathletics team together!") who was lawyering for a fair housing nonprofit in Chicago that I'd actually heard of. It turned out he's just gotten back from a trip to Amsterdam where I'd spent some time a few years back, and we bonded over our shared revulsion at the "pot and prostitutes" reputation of a city that was actually way more interesting.
Soon Rachel and Tom cornered the bartender in an attempt to coax him into handing over control of the sound system, and ended up camping out at the bar and arguing over Blur songs.
"I actually know you," said Trevor. "Well, not really. But I've seen you before. We go to the same pool. You swim in the mornings." I might have looked a little nervous. Because he just laughed and rolled his eyes a little. "I'm actually the reason Tom goes there. He was paying a shit-ton for his old gym. Anyway, I don't go that much, and I've been terrible about going at all lately. I should cancel my membership and save the money, but that feels like admitting defeat."
"No. We should go together."
"Sure, although my favorite part of swimming is not talking to people."
I raised my glass to that.
Tom and Rachel came back to the table and I excused myself to go to the restroom. It was approaching midnight, which was pretty late for me for a weeknight, even though I'd invented a doctors' appointment in the morning which would allow me to roll into work around 11 without anyone batting an eye.
In the bathroom I realized I could hear my ears ringing slightly as I pissed. Yep, it was official: I was drunk. Time to switch to seltzer. Hangovers in your 30's are a bitch.
I unlocked the door to head back to the table and ran right into Tom, who immediately put his hand on my chest and pushed me right back into the bathroom. He latched the door behind him and kissed me, hard, right up against the wall. I was in shock for a moment, but thought `what the hell' and just started kissing back.
I could feel my hear beating as Tom fumbled with my belt buckle and pushed his hand straight into my underwear to grab my cock. I was barely semi-erect, but that was changing fast. He pulled back for a second, licked his hand to get some lubrication and went right back at it.
I started to go for Tom's belt buckle, but as soon as I was fully hard, he dropped to his knees and, I swear to god, took my cock straight down his throat, nose pushed into my pubic hair, in one go. If our hookup at the gym had been playful, this time he was on a mission. He bobbed up and down on my dick, sucking with real force, and then added a hand to the mix, rubbing up and down my shaft. My back was pressed up against the bathroom wall, watching him suck me off like his life depended on. Thrust his mouth up and down my cock, twisting his head almost frantically, and giving so much suction he was making slurping noises when he reach the end, swirled his wet tongue around my head, and impaled his face again on my dick. He twisted just enough to flick his eyes up and we made eye contact.
Again, he pulled off just long enough to say four short words, and then went right back to work, sliding his mouth up and down the shaft of my cock. He was sucking it like he'd never wanted anything more in his life.
I. Want. Your. Cum.
Fuck. I gave it to him.
I could feel myself getting close and let it wash over me immediately. Every load feels bigger, to me at least, when someone is swallowing it, and this felt fucking huge as waves of pure physical pleasure washed through my body.
He pulled off while I was gasping for breath, and I realized he was frantically jerking his big dick right between my legs, my pants and underwear still around my knees.
"Here I come." He squeezed his eyes shut and shot onto the dirty wood floor. I'll never know how big my load was that night, but his was huge, and as he gasped and grinned up at me, there there must have been six thick splatters of cum painting the floor.
We were both panting, our cocks still hard, one in each of his hands.
"I didn't expect that."
"I've been wanting to do that to you since I saw you back at the church."
"You thought about sucking my dick during The Messiah?"
"I've been thinking about sucking your dick all fucking night. Ok. You go out there and pretend we didn't just do this." I laughed and washed my hands. On the way back to the table, I stopped by the bar to buy another beer (so much for controlling my hangover) and chatted with the bartender for a few minutes to allay suspicion. Tom actually beat me back to the table.
Rachel and Trevor were talking about law school and how glad they were that they'd avoided ending up in soul sucking law firms. Tom was just drinking his beer and following along like nothing was out of the ordinary. I joined in and pretty soon we'd ganged up on Rachel who had attempted to halfheartedly defend our shitty mayor.
By one a.m it was clear that it was time to go. We said goodbye as Tom and Trevor headed off to the El. Rachel and I stood on the corner waiting for our cars in the cold.
"You fucking slut," she said as soon as they were out of earshot.
"What?"
"`What?'" She mocked me. "Don't get me wrong I fucking love it. At least one of us got laid tonight. I don't have sex any more. I have kids. And lesbian bed death is real."
I smiled and shrugged. I thought we'd actually gotten away with it, and I felt a little skeezy getting caught.
Rachel's car arrived and she gave me a big hug. "This was perfect. This was just what I needed tonight."
"Me too. Telly Lindy I said hi."
My car was only a few minutes behind and I was home by 1:30.
I should have gone to bed, but we'd connected on Facebook at the bar, and I spent another 40 minutes going through all of Tom's pictures. And Trevor's too.