What Happened with the Trans Man in the Locker Room

It was the end of July and the gym was practically deserted. Marcos and Iván had been training for well over two hours when they decided it was enough and headed for the showers. In the locker room there didn’t seem to be anyone left, except for a man in the shower farthest from the door. He was average height, wiry, with a short, neatly trimmed beard and well-developed arms that betrayed years of consistency. They had seen him before on the machines, but they never crossed paths in the locker rooms.

He didn’t hear them come in. It was Iván who saw him, just for an instant, enough to freeze in place. The man had turned to rinse off and, beneath the foam, his body wasn’t exactly what Iván had expected. He grabbed his companion by the arm before he could move forward.

—Marcos, take a good look without making it obvious —he whispered—. I think he’s a trans guy.

—The one who’s always on the rowing machine? —Marcos narrowed his eyes toward the other end of the locker room.

—That one. You can tell by the chest scars. He’s a proper man, look at those shoulders.

The two of them fell silent for a few seconds, looking at each other. They were both about thirty-five, both built like wardrobes, both equally curious.

—Hey, does this do anything for you? —Iván asked in a low voice—. It turns me on, I’m not going to lie. It’s nothing weird, it just gets me hot.

—Me too, honestly. But let’s be smart, yeah? If it doesn’t flow, we shower and leave like nothing happened.

—Of course. Only if he wants to.

If he wants to, Marcos thought, already with an idea turning over in his head and a tension growing under his gym shorts.

They waited for the water to stop running. The man came out with a towel tied around his waist and, seeing them seated on the bench, he started because he thought he was alone. He immediately nodded to them politely and went to his locker.

—Hey, sorry —Iván said before he could walk away—. What’s your name? We see you here a lot.

The man turned. His cheeks were a little flushed, maybe from the hot water, maybe from the question.

—Darío —he replied—. You come every day too, right?

—Pretty much. Marcos and I are regulars. —Iván stood up slowly, without invading his space—. Look, I’m going to be straight with you, because I’d rather be upfront. We saw you coming out of the shower, by accident, and we thought you were a ridiculously handsome guy. We both thought the same thing.

Darío raised an eyebrow, half amused and half wary. He’d heard all kinds of things in locker rooms like that, and almost never anything kind.

—And where exactly is this going? —he asked, folding his arms, still on guard.

—Nowhere you don’t want it to —Marcos said, still seated, hands open—. If it makes you uncomfortable, we’ll leave it there and not speak another word of it. But if you feel like having a good time with two guys who’ve been eyeing you all afternoon… we’d love that.

Darío looked at both of them, slowly, sizing them up. They were hot, that was undeniable: broad shoulders, defined abs, that calm confidence of men who know exactly what they have to offer. He hadn’t slept with anyone in weeks and his body was begging for action. But the decision was still his, and he liked that.

—Let me see if I’ve got this right. You’re turned on because I’m a trans man?

—We’re turned on by you —Iván replied without hesitation—. The fact that you’re trans is part of who you are, and we like that too. We’re not going to pretend otherwise.

The answer surprised him because it was honest. Darío smiled faintly, let his arms fall, and glanced quickly at the locker room door.

—No one’s left out there, I already checked —Marcos said, guessing what he was thinking—. The gym closes in an hour and the afternoon shift already left.

—Then we’d better make the most of the time —Darío said, and dropped the towel onto the bench.

***

Iván moved in first. He didn’t lunge; he put a big hand on his waist, searched his eyes, and when Darío barely nodded, he kissed him. It was a slow kiss at first, exploratory, until Darío bit his lip and everything sped up. Marcos came up behind him, ran a palm over his back, and kissed his neck just above the scars.

—Do you like it like this? —he whispered in his ear.

—I like it like this —Darío said, his voice rough—. And I like that you ask.

They guided him to a wider bench, away from the lockers. Darío sat down and, spreading his thighs, made both men lick their lips. Iván knelt in front of him without rushing, stroked his legs, kissed the inner part of his thighs, and slowly worked upward, stretching out the anticipation until Darío dug his fingers into his hair.

—Don’t make me wait so long —he complained.

—I just want to do it right —Iván replied, and took him in his mouth at once.

Darío threw his head back and let out a long moan. Iván licked with devotion, tracing slow circles, reading each reaction to repeat whatever made him louder. Marcos, meanwhile, sat beside him, slid a hand across his chest, and spoke to him in a low voice, that deep tone that raised goosebumps on Darío’s skin.

—You look so fucking good like this, enjoying yourself —he told him—. Tell me if you want either of us to stop, okay?

—Don’t stop for shit —Darío panted.

Iván kept going, slipped a finger in carefully and felt how wet and receptive he was. He moved it slowly, matching the pace with his tongue, until Darío’s body began to tighten. When he felt him close, he increased the rhythm, sucked gently, and held him right there on the edge until Darío came with a shout that thundered through the empty locker room, clutching both men’s shoulders.

—Fuck —he muttered, catching his breath—. What a way to start.

—This is just the beginning —Marcos said, smiling.

***

Darío was still breathing hard when he sat up and looked Marcos up and down. Curiosity had already turned into pure desire.

—You —he said, pointing at his pants—. Let’s see what you’ve got hiding there.

Marcos didn’t need to be asked twice. He pulled down his shorts and Darío, without breaking eye contact, leaned forward and took him into his mouth. Marcos let out a growl and brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, not pushing, letting him set the pace. Darío knew what he was doing: going up and down hungrily, tightening his lips, alternating with his hand, enjoying the power of having him at his mercy.

—Jesus, what a mouth you have —Marcos panted—. Iván, this guy knows exactly what he’s doing.

Iván, who had stood up to stroke Darío’s back, laughed.

—Told you it was worth it.

Darío pulled away for a moment, lips shining, and looked at both of them.

—I want both of you at the same time —he said bluntly—. But nice and slow, because I’ve been dry for weeks.

—Whatever you want —Iván replied—. You’re the one setting the rules here.

They laid him back on the bench carefully, a folded sweatshirt under his head so he’d be comfortable. Iván positioned himself between his legs and, before entering, looked at him for permission. Darío nodded and wrapped one leg around his hip, pulling him closer.

—Slow at first —he asked.

—Slow —Iván repeated, and pushed in gently, watching his face, stopping when he saw him frown and moving forward again when he relaxed.

When he was all the way inside, both of them let out the air at once. Iván started moving slowly, massaging him with his thumb so the pleasure wouldn’t fade, and Darío soon begged for more with his hips. The rhythm picked up little by little, moans mixing with the wet sound of their bodies, and Marcos, kneeling beside Darío’s head, stroked his chest and whispered how good he was doing.

—Do you still want both of us? —Iván asked without stopping.

—Yes —Darío panted—. Marcos, come here.

***

They rearranged him among the three of them. Darío ended up astride Iván, who had stretched out on a mat in the corner, Darío himself controlling the descent until he had him inside again. In that position he was in charge, and it showed in the way he moved, unhurried, bouncing with selfish, beautiful pleasure.

—Like this, exactly like this —he moaned—. I love being in control.

Marcos positioned himself behind him, on his knees, and kissed the back of his neck.

—Want to try both at once? —he asked, his damp finger barely brushing him—. If not, just say no and that’s that.

Darío thought about it for a second, still moving on Iván, and smiled over his shoulder.

—Very carefully. And if I say stop, you stop.

—My word.

Marcos took his time. He prepared him slowly, patiently, attentive to every breath, until Darío pushed back, seeking him. Only then did he start to enter, millimeter by millimeter, waiting between each advance for Darío to give him permission with a sigh or a movement of his hips. When both of them were in, Darío froze for a moment, mouth open, taking in the sensation.

—Are you okay? —they asked almost at once.

—I’m fucking great —he answered, and laughed at the absurdity of his own trembling voice—. Don’t stop.

They moved slowly, coordinating with one another, careful not to hurt him. Darío let himself be carried between the two bodies, held up by four firm hands, feeling each measured thrust and each caress exactly where it should be. Pleasure built up, dense, until it became almost unbearable. Marcos kissed his shoulders, Iván held his hips, and Darío lost words one by one.

—I’m going to come again —he warned, eyes closed.

—Then come —Iván told him—. We’ve got you.

The orgasm shook him from head to toe, long and deep, and dragged both men with him. Iván gave in first, with a muffled groan, gripping his waist; Marcos followed seconds later, pressing his chest against his back and blowing out against the nape of his neck.

The three of them remained tangled on the mat, panting, sweaty, chuckling under their breath from sheer exhaustion. No one said anything for a while. Only the distant hum of the fluorescent lights and three breathing patterns trying to steady themselves.

—Let me know if I need to apologize for anything —Darío joked, still sounding wrecked.

—The only one who should apologize is me, for taking so long to talk to you —Iván said, sitting up and reaching for a clean towel to hand him.

Marcos got up to grab his phone and held it out to him.

—Give me your number, come on. If you want, we should do this again. And next time we’ll buy you a drink first, because we’re not savages.

Darío looked at the phone, then at both of them. A part of him, the part used to sideways glances and nasty comments, could hardly believe it had gone this well. But those two had treated him better than most, asking, waiting, taking care of him. He typed in his number without thinking too hard.

—For the record, I don’t normally do this —he said, handing the phone back with a smile—. But maybe I’ll make an exception.

—Next time you’ll see —Marcos replied—. This was just the introduction.