The Wedding

by Seo Ha-young (徐河英)


The dull roar of voices echoed through the church, reaching as high as the abandoned balcony and reverberating between the ceiling and the empty benches. Three hundred people shuffled their feet, gabbed, laughed, and waited – in the noisy, restless manner characteristic of large crowds – for the wedding to begin. Small children craned their necks around their seated parents, trying to catch a glimpse of the bride, or any sign that something would soon be happening.

At last, the first notes of Pachelbel’s Canon floated out of the organ and rose to the ceiling before bursting among the rafters. Three hundred voices shushed each other as their owners turned expectantly toward the heavy wooden doors, holding their collective breath as they waited for the groom’s parents to enter the chapel, signaling the beginning of the wedding.

High above the gathered crowd in the deserted, closed-off balcony, Ben and Tory took the organ music as a cue to quieten as well, so as not to be heard by the guests. Otherwise, neither the music nor the happenings below entered the narrow consciousness of the two men. The dissonant strains of their own heavy panting drowned out the music, their hearts pounded in their ears, and their fingers grasped at each other’s clothing as though trying to capture the electric heat that radiated between them.

Jackets and ties had long been discarded, and Ben’s fingers worked frantically at the tiny buttons on Tory’s tuxedo shirt. Tory’s mouth seared the tender skin near Ben’s ear, and then sought out his lips, which parted readily for Tory. Ben let his eyes slip closed as their lips moved slowly together, their tongues tangling and teasing of their own accord. He tugged at the final button, pulling away with a whispered curse as he felt it pop off.

“Leave it,” Tory murmured, and rolled on top of Ben, resuming their kiss with added passion.

Below, the crowd erupted with a collective “ahh” as cameras flashed. The flower girl had entered in a pink dress, dropping handfuls of rose petals in damaged clumps on the carpet and grinning at the audience as she went, charming them. Behind her, the flower girl’s sisters, aunts, and uncles began to enter the chapel in pairs, taking each step in time to the music from the organ.

Ben’s cock was hard and strained against his black tuxedo pants. He reached down to unbutton his fly, but Tory stopped him. “Let me,” he whispered, unhooking the fabric and drawing the zipper down. Ben arched his hips so that Tory could tug the pants down, leaving them to pool around Ben’s ankles. Removing his own pants, Tory straddled Ben’s thighs, arching his hips to rub their erections together as he bent to taste Ben’s gasp, grazing his teeth against Ben’s lower lip.

“Take me,” Ben whispered, and Tory pulled away so that Ben could spread his legs, taking Tory inside the circle made by them and closed by the tuxedo trousers still around his ankles. He bent his knees to pull Tory closer, and Tory took the moment to take Ben in with his eyes, dragging his fingertips against the bones of Ben’s hips. When his eyes had drunk their fill, he slid into Ben in one smooth, hard motion. Ben’s eyes glazed over, but held Tory’s as his hand slid down to wrap around his own erection. They began to move together in time with the beat of the organ music, swelling beneath them.

Three hundred feet shuffled as three hundred people stood. The music reached a crescendo as the bride entered, a vision in white splendor. The crystals in her hair sparkled nearly as bright as her smile as she walked down the aisle, arm linked with her father’s. As her gaze rested on the altar, on the priest, she noticed the absence of her groom, and every member of the audience saw the light dim in her eyes, the smile fade from her lips. Still, her steps didn’t falter as she continued faithfully to the front of the room.

Two bodies in the balcony shuddered in mutual ecstasy, a tangle of limbs and hearts, muffling their cries of passion against the lips of the other. They lay together as their breathing slowed, their hearts quieted, and sweat and semen cooled against their skin.

Down below, the organ had ground to a halt, leaving the chapel silent other than the shocked whispers of the guests and the almost audible worry of the bride, standing alone at the altar in front of hundreds of her family members and friends.

Tensing, Tory pulled back to look at Ben urgently, his dark eyes bright and sharp. “I have to go,” he whispered, as Ben knew he would. Ben lay back on his elbows as Tory mopped up fluids with a wad of tissues and tugged his clothes back on. Ben watched him zip and tuck, putting his appearance to rights in a hurry. He started to stand, but Ben reached out, grasping his sleeve, stopping him.

“Don’t go,” Ben whispered.

Tory stooped and kissed him again, as long as he dared. “I’ll be back,” he promised. This time as he pulled back, Ben let his fingers slip to the floor. He watched as Tory checked his pockets for the ring and then hurried downstairs to become the husband of the woman who was waiting for him at the altar.

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