The Long Road Home

Well, when you've just won so much money, do you think I wanted to rush right back to work? No way. So instead, I checked into the hotel. I sat in my whirlpool tub and ate room service for three days. I was still living in a haze of winner's delight when it came crashing down Tuesday evening. I made the mistake of calling my mother. Jessica had called, many times, frantic. I was supposed to go out with her on Sunday. I hadn't even thought about calling her. I'd completely forgotten. So, vacation was over.

On the fourteen-hour drive back to Seattle, I tried to figure out what it was that I really wanted. Tom had played with me, but at least we hadn't actually slept together. That would have messed with my head even more than the scrambled eggs that my brain currently was. By the time I crossed over into Washington I'd come to a very basic conclusion. I couldn't see him anymore.

It hurt. A lot. More than anything, he'd been a really good friend. Yeah, there had been a lot more running through it, but the core base was friendship. Oh well, I wasn't exactly a wallflower. I could find friends easily. I could find sex even easier. I'm tall. I have broad shoulders. I'm not a muscle bound hunk, but I'm defined. No one has ever looked at my face and thrown up. There were plenty of men in London. From the time I lost my virginity that first month at college, I'd had men and always on my timetable. I didn't go more than a month without companionship, but I wasn't a slut either. Obviously, I needed to be with a man. It would make me forget what I thought I'd found with Tom.

I stopped off and saw Jessica on my way home. She was upset with me, because I'd worried her. She kept asking me why I'd left. I thought for sure I'd be able to tell her. But I couldn't. The words lodged in my throat. She'd always been so protective of me. She was like a mama bear around one of her cubs. I knew that if I told her, she'd have Tom's head on a platter. I couldn't do it to him. The man was confused. He'd need her, probably more than I do, and I need her pretty damn bad.

Jessica wasn't happy about it. She and Mike double-teamed me that evening. I tried to distract them with the check for $100,000, but they only said 'congratulations' and kept pressing me for information. Jessica is a bulldog when she scents something. Mike is so much more subtle and gentle. Jessica is like a hurricane, fast, brutal and over. Mike is like a gentle stream. He doesn't have much to begin with, but eventually, he can wear down mountains. He wore me down. I told them everything. About how I'd fallen for him, our almost night together, and the shock and devastation when I found out he was getting married. Jessica came up after I wound down and smacked my arm. Hard. Well, it hurt.

"You dumb shit! He isn't in love with this girl. He thinks he is. He's afraid. You should fight for him." I would have interrupted, but you don't mess with a woman on a rampage. "Jimmy, you love him. He's there too, if not completely, then soon. You shouldn't give up. Go over to his place right now and fight for him!"

I waited for a count of five before I spoke. But she wasn't done. She railroaded right over me. "You have to. He's going to be miserable."

After a few seconds, she raised her eyebrows. I knew it was okay to talk. "Why were you so happy for him when you told me?"

She rolled her eyes and looked at the ceiling and screamed. "I hate stupid gay men!" She cupped my face then slapped it. "I was glad you were there, to talk him out of it."

I felt small. "Oh."

Mike took over at this point. He was so kind and wrapped his arm around my back. "Don't push him. Unlike my darling Jessica, not all people prefer to be stampeded. But you should fight for him."

I left even more confused. I loved the both of them, but there were no answers there, a lot of advice but no answers. Friday night I got dressed up and went club hopping in Seattle. I danced a lot. I drank a little. I went home alone. I lay in bed, thinking of Tom. I remembered the taste of him. I remembered the feel of his hairy body against my smooth one. I remembered how his height fit against my own as I curled around him. I was so fucking hard. I headed to the shower, hoping that the warm water would relax my tired body. Even after thirty solid minutes of hot water, my body still throbbed and ached. I was in a constant state of drool. I lay back in my bed and gripped my aching shaft. I squeezed the head as I began to stroke myself. I forced my mind to think about the last guy I'd been with in London. I filled my head with images of the porn star of my earliest fantasies; anyone but Tom. After twenty minutes of solid stroking, I was no closer to release than I was when I started. I almost stopped, and in that moment, Tom flashed into my head. It was all over. I came hard. I sprayed myself from belly to chin. I cried out and moaned as each pulse of release hit me. My body was drained, my mind wanting to shut down. I didn't even pull the sheet over me and I was asleep.

The next few weeks were lonely ones. I didn't realize how much Tom had become a part of my life. We hadn't gone more than a day between seeing each other. I missed him. Stupid bastard. Asshole. I wasn't sure whether I was referring to him or myself. But I was pretty damn miserable. I also wasn't getting over it. Whenever I would go out, I always came home alone. No matter how many offers I got, and there were plenty, I was alone. I couldn't bring myself to go home with any of them. By the time the third week was done, I knew I'd have to move on. Only I wasn't ready.

It was a Thursday night when someone knocked at my door. It was almost midnight. Tom. He was standing at my door, knocking, even after I opened it. He looked at me with this very goofy grin and breathed an alcohol soaked 'hi' at me. I pulled him inside and shut the door.

"You didn't drive over here, did you?"

He staggered into my living room, shaking his head. "Nope. I drove to the bar down the street. I walked here when I knew I was too drunk to drive."

I closed my eyes and willed myself not to get angry. "What are you doing here Tom?"

Tom turned to me and his eyes were so hurt looking. "You stopped coming by."

I stared at him. The accusation was true, but he must have known why. "I thought it was obvious why."

He nodded and hiccupped. "Yeah. It was. But you still didn't have to stop seeing me."

I got angry. So furious I didn't care that he was drunk and wouldn't hear me. "You got engaged after we almost made love!"

Raw hurt flashed in his eyes. "You shouldn't have stopped."

That made me pause. "What are you saying?"

"I wanted you. I still do. I took one look at you at the airport and knew I wanted you." He staggered to me. His hands came up and braced my face. "Don't be mad." He brushed his lips against mine and I was lost. My body reacted and I kissed him back. "Kiss me like that again James. I need to feel that way again."

I kissed him. Man did I ever. If it weren't for the fact that we can't live without oxygen, I'm sure I'd still be kissing him. But the moment I broke away to breathe, some of what he said sank in. I need to feel that way again? What did that mean? I stepped back from Tom. I needed some space. That was when I noticed he looked green.

"I thought you said you don't drink Tom?"

He looked at me, and he kept swallowing. "I don't. I never wanted to. But I couldn't face you unless I did."

I closed my eyes to hide the hurt. A drunken encounter that he could blame on alcohol in the morning. That's all I was to him. When I opened my eyes, I could tell that Tom was about ten seconds away from losing what he had drunk. I grabbed his arm and forced him into the bathroom. I gripped the back of his neck and pushed him over the bowl as he let loose. I hate it when people puke. Not that it makes me sick too, but it isn't a pleasant experience.

When he was done, he was barely awake. I cleaned him up a bit and led him out to the couch. I had him lie down and I took off his shoes. The blanket on the back of the couch I used to cover him. I went out onto the balcony. It was a warm, late-May night. I stood out there until dawn, watching Tom sleep it off on the couch. It was getting late; I needed to go to work. I left a note on the coffee table, next to his shoes and car keys. It basically told him to go away and never talk to me again. I went to work and after, walked into the nearest bar and got so damn drunk I had to have a cab take me home.

When I got home, Jessica was waiting for me. She walked inside with me and held me as I cried it all out. When I was done weeping, she helped me into the shower and I blasted my body with enough cold water to sober me up. Jessica held me that night under the covers. She stroked my hair and kept mumbling about 'silly gay men.' I didn't know whether she was referring to Tom, me, or both of us.

I greeted the next day with a headache. Except it wasn't really a headache. It was just shy of my head falling off my neck, rolling down a large hill filled with cactus, sharp rocks, broken glass, and lava vents. Jessica took me to get my car after packing a bag. I was going to go stay with her for the rest of the weekend.

When we got back to her place, Mike was standing in the driveway, waiting for us. I've always liked Mike. He was a bit of a nerd, gangly and awkward. But he doted on Jessica, almost to the point of obsession. She deserved to be worshipped like that. He hugged me and patted my back, telling me how sorry he was. Then he dropped a bomb. "Tom's inside."

I've never had a panic attack, but I think this came close to one. My breathing became labored and my heart started pounding. I got back in Jessica's car and demanded she take me home. She refused. Best friends can really be a hassle. That vicious bitch started laughing then grabbed Mike and went back inside. A few minutes later, Tom came out. What was I going to say? What was I going to do?

I don't know how long we stayed in place, me sitting in my car, Tom standing by the window, looking down at me. Damn, but the man can wear jeans and a v-neck shirt. Lust, love and hurt warred in my chest, making my already jumpy nerves even more jumpy. Then he knocked on the window, startling me. I opened the door and got out. We stared at each other for a few more minutes before I grabbed my bag and walked into Jessica's house. Tom stayed outside for a few minutes before I heard his car start up. He was gone.

Looking back, I guess you could say that Tom and I had a lot of missed opportunities. But at the same time, we are human beings who are fallible. It is so easy to be an outsider and look at someone else's relationship and point a finger and say 'this is where you should have said something' or 'why didn't you just tell him how you felt.' Our damn hearts get in the way, hold us back, trying to shield us from pain and sorrow. It's easy to stand on the sidelines and yell for someone to lay it all on the line in a Hail Mary play. The rewards are awesome. But the fear of defeat keeps us rooted to the ground, playing it safe. That's what that weekend was. Him standing there, looking at me in the car, me staring straight ahead, not knowing what to say. Hindsight is perfect. Now I know that that was where the music gets loud in the movies. Too bad John Williams doesn't hire out to score individual lives. It would really help.

Tom's wedding was two weeks away. I sat in my apartment, which was no longer warm and fun, but cold and lonely and brooded. I wanted so badly to go to Tom and shake him to make him see reason. I wanted to fold him in my arms and kiss him. I wanted to take him to bed and slowly taste every inch of his body. I didn't want sex. I wanted to make love to him. I ached from it. All I had to do was think about him and my pulse would race and my face flush. I guess I had too much pride to actually go and throw myself at him. I lied and told myself that it would get better once he was actually married. After all, then he'd be off limits.

I believed it all until I got the wedding invitation. I stared at that thing for hours. I'd sat down at my dining room table, going through my mail when I came across it. It was a simple, beautiful thing; white and gold and lovely. God, he was actually going through with it. With all the pacing I did, I could have blazed a trail through the thickest Amazonian jungle. I didn't know what to do.

Three days before the wedding, last day of finals for Tom, found me sitting in my car, right next to his. Jessica had told me that Tom's fiancée Rebecca was flying in tomorrow. Whatever pride I had, I left behind. I waited for almost a half hour before Tom showed up. I indicated that he get in and he actually did. I drove in silence. Tom did nothing to break it either. I drove about ten miles away and pulled into a motel parking lot. I ran inside and got a key and had Tom follow me into the room. Standard freeway motel fare: two double beds, a bad dresser, ugly picture on the wall and a bathroom with towels the size of washcloths. But I wasn't there for the furniture.

Like I said, I'd left my pride at home. I walked up to Tom and kissed him, fast and hard, delving my tongue into his mouth and devouring him, taking him where we both wanted to go. He followed my lead. We kissed, we tasted, and we slowly stripped off our clothes. I pushed him onto the bed and lowered my mouth to him. I flicked his leaking, drooling tip with my tongue, tasting his salty, tangy flavor. His muffled gasp as I took the head into my mouth kept me going, pushing hard, and stuffing him into my mouth. The man was thick, not that long, but very thick. He also leaked more than any other man I'd ever been with. He lasted perhaps twenty bobs of my head before he arched his back and cried out as his legs trembled under my arms. My mouth was filled with all of his release, tangy, salty and thick. I tried to swallow, but there was too much. Most of it dribbled down my chin and pooled on my chest.

I moved under his legs, lifting and parting them. I had enough of his cum on my chin and chest that I doubted I'd need all the lube I'd brought with me. So I wiped up a glob from my chest and smoothed it over his hole, licking after it, pushing my tongue into his ring, trying to breach it. I kept going, long minutes of wet, hot stabs and leisurely laps with my tongue. Eventually, he either relaxed or his resistance was gone, but he opened. I moved up his body, pressing my crotch into his, letting his knees brace my hips as I lowered to kiss him as I pressed forward. It was a long, slow, achingly beautiful joining of my body to his. I could have cum just from that moment when his ring opened and let me slip inside.

I pushed inside of Tom over and over again. I braced myself on my arms and watched as his body pulled and writhed and arched beneath me. I lowered to my elbows and rested my chest against his, forcing his attention to me. His body was strumming and trembling with each push into him. I watched his face as he reached for his release, going between wonder, confusion and near begging, as I kept moving over and over inside him. My cock felt like it was in a wet, tight channel. My heart was pounding, much harder than my physical exertion warranted. I could tell my skin was flushed, as I kept moving, driving hard, wanting both of our pleasures to come. Tom looked straight into my eyes and I couldn't look away from them. His gaze was so intense, it was as if he'd let every shield down and let me look right into his soul. It only made it more intense as my hips kept moving. I twisted my hips at one point, driving into Tom with a corkscrew pattern and it must have been that last bit of sensation he needed because he clamped down on my shaft and his body arched as he cried out from his second orgasm of the day. Watching him cum, knowing that I had brought him to this point was too much and I followed quickly. I lowered my forehead to his as I cried out my own pleasure, flooding his gut with my heart and soul and seed.

As my breath slowed, I realized what kind of a mistake I had just made. In the heat of the moment, rationality flies out the window. I couldn't move off of Tom. I couldn't even withdraw myself from him. I lay there, nuzzling his forehead with my own, wanting him to say something, anything that would let me know that this wasn't what I thought I had wanted. I had set out to have a fuck fest, something to get him out of my system. This only made it worse.

I was still wedged inside of Tom; just as hard as I was when we started. He looked in my eyes and I moaned, dropped my forehead against his, and started moving again. This time was fast and hard and nothing like the slow, gentle time before. I fucked him through two more orgasms before I came again. I was drained. Not physically, I could have gone again and again. But emotionally I was wiped out. I got up and pulled Tom with me to the shower. First time and all that, I wanted to make sure he was okay.

We stood under the shower, kissing and touching each other. We never spoke more than gentle murmurs of encouragement or quiet commands of desire. By the time we were done in the shower, we were hard and ready again for another go. I lay back on the bed and told Tom it was his turn. The man was clumsy and awkward, but it was the best damn time I ever bottomed for someone. I never understood before this that emotions do intensify the sex. All the sex I had before paled compared to this long afternoon spent in bed with Tom.

It was nearly eight that night when we got dressed and left. The room smelled like sex and the bed was torn up. But I'm sure housekeeping had seen it all before. We were almost back to his car, and we hadn't said anything to each other. I couldn't let it go. I just couldn't. I loved this dumb man. The last few hours proved it to me. I couldn't let him walk away.

"Are you hungry?"

Tom chuckled. "Yeah. I haven't eaten since last night."

I made our way to our favorite burger place. The hostess recognized us. We sat down, ordered and still said nothing. I was about to explode. My mind wanted me to run, my heart wanted me to stay, and my pride wanted to reach across the table and start smacking some sense into Tom. I decided to settle on a bit of all three.

"What happens now, Tom?"

Tom looked me right in the eyes. "I'm getting married on Saturday."

I actually felt myself wince from that blow. "Then what did we just spend eight hours doing?"

He looked anywhere but in my eyes. All he gave me was a shrug. "Sex."

I think if our food hadn't arrived then, I'd have leapt over the table and strangled him. But it did, which is probably why Tom is still breathing. We ate in silence; I didn't even taste my food. The moment I was done, I threw two twenties on the table and left, Tom followed a few moments later. We got in my truck and drove back to where his car was parked at the school. He got out and I followed. I was too angry for pride, too angry for remorse, and much too angry to keep it inside any longer.

"I love you Tom. I have almost from the first moment I saw you."

He looked at me like I was from some distant planet. But I kept going. "I'd have gladly given you anything and everything. I'd worship the ground you walk on. Breakfast in bed, lazy Sunday's watching football, anything you wanted I'd give you and gladly." I knew tears were streaming down my face, but I didn't care. "You are making a huge mistake. Lie and say that you're bi if you have to, but don't deny the fact that you loved every single second of the time we just spent together."

Tom tried to speak, but I was too far-gone to let him even form a single word. "I love you damn it! Don't do this to me. Don't do this to us. Please?" It was desperate and pathetic and I didn't give a damn anymore. I waited. I waited for a long time, but he said nothing, just gave me a very pitying look. I sobbed and turned from him, got in my truck and drove off. I took both Mike and Jessica's advice. I got nothing from it.