I Woke Up Naked in My College Rival’s Bed

Diego woke with a headache crushing his temples into the pillow. The first thing he noticed was the light: it slanted in through blinds that weren’t his, onto a white wall that wasn’t his either. The second was the sheet. It was too heavy and smelled of a citrus perfume he recognized before he could put a name to it.

He sat up slowly. He slid his hand under the sheet and confirmed what he already suspected: he was completely naked. No boxers, no T-shirt, not even socks.

Shit.

He closed his eyes and tried to piece together the night before. The party at Camila’s apartment. Too many tequila shots. Adrián showing up from the other side of the living room with that smug smile Diego had spent years wanting to wipe off his face. A shouting match. Something else, after that. Something blurry he preferred not to remember.

He dressed quickly, making no noise. His clothes were folded on a chair, which made no sense. When you get undressed drunk, you don’t fold anything. He clenched his teeth and opened the bedroom door.

The hallway smelled like coffee. From the kitchen came the sound of water running and cups clinking together. Diego tiptoed toward the entrance. He was one step from the doorknob when a voice reached him from behind.

—Leaving already?

Diego froze with his hand in the air. He turned slowly. Adrián was leaning against the kitchen doorframe, his blond hair tied into a loose knot, barefoot and wearing nothing but black boxers that left very little to the imagination. The bulge between his legs was outlined with such deliberate brazenness that Diego had to look away for a second before lifting his eyes again. He held a steaming mug in both hands, and his shoulders still glistened from the shower. He looked at Diego as if Diego had arrived late to a date he had never agreed to attend.

—Yeah —Diego said, trying to keep his voice steady—. Thanks for letting me sleep here.

Adrián took two slow steps toward him and rested a palm against the door to close it softly.

—Aren’t we going to talk about what happened?

—Nothing happened —Diego answered at once, too fast—. I was drunk last night. You… you told me I couldn’t drive like that.

That much he remembered. The little he did remember.

—So you don’t remember anything. Convenient.

—What happened last night, Adrián? —A doubt rose from the pit of his stomach—. Was it consensual?

Adrián gave a low laugh, roughened by coffee.

—Even if you’re my academic rival, I’m not a bastard. If something happened to you, who’d force me to work hard in class? You’re the only one who’s on my level.

Diego felt heat rise to his face. He couldn’t tell if it was anger or something else, more unsettling, something he’d spent months trying not to name.

—I drove you home in my car. I left you on the couch. Then you got up, went into my room, and started taking your clothes off. When you got to the bed, you fell face-first and passed out instantly.

—Nothing else happened?

—Nothing you’ll regret.

Adrián said the last part while looking at Diego’s lips. Diego clenched his jaw.

—What was that sigh?

—Nothing —Adrián looked away toward an abstract painting hanging behind Diego—. What a shame. Such a shame for you.

—A shame?

—You told me you haven’t slept with a guy in over six months.

Diego closed his eyes. The whole conversation came back to him in a hard rush. He had thrown in Adrián’s face things he’d been swallowing for years. That Adrián kept stealing every guy Diego liked at every party, that it seemed deliberate, that he was sick of it. And, on top of that, that confession about the dry spell. Drunk. In front of Adrián, of all people.

—Fine —he said, trying to pull himself together—. I said it. But I don’t want your pity. Keep it.

—Do you realize this is the first conversation we’ve ever had that didn’t end in shouting?

—Then it didn’t happen. Not tonight either. —Diego took a deep breath—. I owe you for taking care of me. I hope it doesn’t occur to you to go around telling people anything happened.

—Noted that you owe me one. —Adrián smiled crookedly, with that smile Diego hated with all his might—. But I’m not saying anything. It doesn’t suit me either.

The silence that followed was the most uncomfortable Diego could remember sharing with anyone.

—Well. See you Monday in class. Though I’d rather not see you.

—Are you uncomfortable about what happened or what didn’t happen?

Diego didn’t answer. He opened the door and stepped into the landing. He pressed the elevator button; it was on the ground floor and he had no patience, so he took the three flights down the stairs. On the first landing he heard Adrián’s voice from the stairwell.

—Silence gives consent.

***

Out on the street, Diego shoved a hand into his pocket and checked that the car keys were not where they should have been. He sighed, went back into the building, and pressed the intercom with a dry finger.

—I thought we wouldn’t see each other until Monday. —Adrián’s voice sounded calm, almost amused.

—I left my keys upstairs.

—I’ll bring them down.

When the building door opened, Adrián was wearing short jeans and a white T-shirt. He didn’t meet Diego’s eyes as he let the keys drop into his palm, avoiding contact.

—The car’s parked over there, between the white Seat and the yellow Beetle —he said, pointing toward the end of the street.

—Thanks.

Diego took two steps back, not knowing what to say.

—I would’ve liked you to stay for breakfast —Adrián added before slipping back into the building and disappearing behind the glass door.

Diego stood on the sidewalk with the keys digging into his palm. That sentence had thrown him off more than the entire conversation combined. He walked slowly toward the car, feeling a knot in his chest he didn’t know how to undo. He pulled out his phone. It was almost two in the afternoon.

When he unlocked the car, the memory of throwing up hit him all at once too. He grimaced and braced himself for the worst smell of his life. But when he opened the driver’s door, the car smelled of pine and disinfectant. There was no stain, nothing. On the steering wheel lay a note: “You’re welcome for cleaning your car. No need to pay me back. A.”

Diego rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Something wasn’t adding up. Adrián had never been kind to him. He’d taunted him, challenged him, humiliated him in class in front of professors. But kind? Never.

He dialed the first number in his favorites list.

—Diego —Camila answered on the second ring—. Where the hell did you disappear to last night? I looked for you until three and you weren’t anywhere.

—Cami, I need you to tell me everything. Everything. From when we got to the party until I left. And fast.

—Are you okay?

—No.

—Well. We got there at eleven. You had three tequila shots in less than twenty minutes. You fought with Adrián because, according to you, he’d stolen another guy you’d been eyeing all night again. You yelled at him about everything. Then you both went to the bathroom.

—You both went to the bathroom?

—It’s the men’s room, Diego. I’m not going in there.

—Cami, I woke up in his bed this morning. Naked.

—What?! And why didn’t you start with that?

—I’m trying to reconstruct it. He says nothing happened.

—And you believe him?

Diego hesitated. He’d known Adrián since freshman year. He’d seen him behave in a thousand ways, almost all of them unbearable, but never like a bastard to anyone. Not to drunk people, not to girls, not to guys.

—I think so. But something happened. Someone must have seen us.

—Mateo went into the bathroom. Right after you two. He came out a minute later looking like he’d seen a crime.

Diego felt the blood drain from his face.

—Thanks, Cami. I’ll call you later.

He hung up without waiting for an answer and called Mateo with clumsy fingers. Mateo had been his best friend since high school. If anyone was going to tell him the truth without filters, it was him.

—Finally awake, Sleeping Beauty —Mateo greeted him with a laugh that sounded way too nervous.

—Cut the jokes, Mati. This morning I woke up at Adrián’s place. Camila said you went into the bathroom last night. What did you see?

There was a long silence on the other end.

—I can’t tell you. I promised Adrián I wouldn’t say anything.

—You promised Adrián? —Diego’s voice went up half an octave—. You? To him? Since when do you do him favors?

—Diego…

—Either you tell me or I tell Camila you’ve been crushing on her for two years.

—You wouldn’t dare!

—Try me.

Mateo let out a very long sigh.

—I don’t know why I’m still your friend. Fine. But this stays between us.

—Talk.

—When I went in, you had him cornered against the sinks. You were devouring his mouth like your life depended on it. You’d shoved your tongue so far down his throat it almost came out the other end, man. One hand was on the back of his neck and the other was under his shirt, pinching a nipple. He had his eyes closed and was breathing like it hurt. His dick was hard as a rock under his pants; it was obvious from a meter away. Yours was too. When I heard you both moan, I turned to leave, but Adrián shoved you into one of the stalls, took your hand down to his bulge, and squeezed it over his jeans. Then he turned toward the condom machine by the mirror, pulled out his wallet, and that’s when he saw me. He asked me, please, not to tell anyone.

The phone slipped down Diego’s leg and fell onto the passenger seat. He picked it up with hands that were no longer obeying him.

—What a bastard. —His voice came out broken—. He told me nothing happened. He took advantage of me.

—Diego, listen to me —Mateo’s voice softened—. When I went in, it was him against the sinks. He didn’t look like he wanted to run, that’s true. But you were the one calling the shots. You wouldn’t let him move. And you were the one who started putting your hands on him.

—I have to go back there.

Diego hurled the phone onto the passenger seat and turned the key in the ignition.

***

Three floors later, Adrián opened the door with the expression of someone not expecting this visit so soon. Diego walked in without asking permission.

—I want the truth. No editing.

Adrián closed the door and crossed his arms. He had already put on a T-shirt, but he was still barefoot.

—Fine. I lied, partially. In the bathroom, you kissed me first. You said you were curious about what I had that kept stealing everyone from you.

Diego stared at him. After eight years of rivalry, he could read Adrián’s expressions as if they were his own. Tight jaw, thumb brushing his little finger, breath high in the chest instead of the stomach. He was lying. Or at least, not telling everything.

—And what else?

—Nothing else.

—Then why were you going to pull out a condom?

—I didn’t get to take it out. Mateo interrupted us. He saved you from a stupid mistake you would’ve regretted for the rest of your life.

—Don’t treat me like a kid, Adrián. Tell me what we did in that stall before Mateo came in.

Adrián exhaled through his nose. He ran his tongue over his lower lip. When he spoke, it was in a low voice, as if each word cost him effort.

—You had me against the stall door. You’d shoved your hand inside my pants and were groping my cock over my boxers. I had your hands on my ass. You whispered in my ear that for two years you’d wanted to know what my face looked like when someone sucked me off. That you were going to find out tonight. And that afterward you were going to fuck me against the stall wall until I forgot the names of all the guys I’d stolen from you.

Diego was speechless. His mouth went dry all at once.

—I said that?

—Word for word. And I got so hard that if Mateo had taken thirty more seconds, you’d have had me on my knees before you even put the condom on.

The intercom buzzed at that moment. Mateo’s face appeared on the screen. Adrián looked at him, looked at Diego, sighed, and opened the door. Two minutes later, Mateo walked into the living room looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him.

—You lied to me? —was all Diego said by way of greeting.

Mateo and Adrián exchanged a look that lasted half a second longer than it should have.

—I didn’t lie to you. You didn’t let me finish.

—Then finish now.

—When I found you, it was him against the sinks —Mateo repeated with surgical care—. You had him by the shirt. He shoved you into the stall and went over to the machine. When he saw me, he asked me not to say anything. In exchange, he promised me nothing was going to happen that looked like it was about to happen. That he’d stop it. And it didn’t happen.

Diego looked at one, then the other. Something, in some corner of his head, made a very small click that he decided not to ignore this time.

—Leave —he said, looking at Mateo—. I need to talk to him alone.

Mateo didn’t argue. He shut the door more carefully than usual.

Diego stepped up to Adrián until they were only inches apart. He looked him in the eyes. He put a hand on his neck, thumb right over his pulse, and felt it kick hard beneath the pad of his finger.

—Finish what we started last night —he said—. No booze this time. No condom to pull out and put away. Now.

Adrián didn’t answer with words. He grabbed Diego’s shirt at the chest, yanked him toward him, and slammed his mouth onto his like he’d spent eight years waiting for permission. Diego felt Adrián’s hot tongue pushing between his lips, the taste of coffee still in his saliva, his breath burning against Diego’s cheek. He kissed him back so hard he bit Adrián’s lower lip and dragged a low moan out of him.

—The bedroom —Diego growled against his mouth—. Now.

Adrián didn’t let go. He backed him down the hallway, slamming him into the walls without breaking the kiss, while he yanked Diego’s shirt up over his head. Diego returned the favor and split a seam when he tore his off. When they reached the room, Diego shoved him backward onto the mattress. Adrián landed sitting, legs spread, breathing hard, his eyes dark in a way Diego had never seen in class.

He knelt between his legs without looking away. He undid the short jeans with fingers that no longer trembled. Adrián lifted his hips to help. Diego pulled his pants and boxers down in one hard motion, and Adrián’s cock sprang into his face, thick, hard, the tip already shining. Diego looked at it for a second. Then he lifted his eyes and found Adrián’s, Adrián holding his gaze with his jaw clenched.

—Was that what you wanted to know? —Adrián asked, voice rough—. What my face looks like when someone sucks me off?

—Shut up —Diego said, and grabbed his cock at the base.

He took it into his mouth without ceremony, all of it, until the tip hit the back of his throat and he gagged, swallowing it down as best he could. Adrián let out a long gasp, threw his head back, and drove his fingers into Diego’s hair. Diego started moving up and down, laying his tongue flat under the shaft, pressing the tip against the roof of his mouth every time he came up, sucking with hollowed cheeks every time he went down. Saliva ran from the corner of his lips. Adrián’s cock filled his mouth obscenely, hot, throbbing against his tongue.

—Fuck, Diego —Adrián moaned, gripping his hair—. Fuck. You’ve spent years treating me like shit just to end up sucking me off like this.

Diego pulled the cock from his mouth with a wet sound. He licked the tip slowly, catching the clear drop that had formed there, and held Adrián’s gaze.

—You treated me like shit too.

—Because I’ve been in love with you since I was fourteen, idiot.

Diego went still for a second, his lips brushing the head of Adrián’s cock. Then he gently bit the inside of his thigh, worked his way up, licked his balls one by one and took them into his mouth, then swallowed the cock whole again. Adrián pushed his hips up, fucking Diego’s mouth with short thrusts, moaning louder and louder.

—Wait —Adrián gasped suddenly, yanking Diego’s hair upward—. Wait, wait. If you keep going I’m going to come, and I want to fuck you.

Diego stood up without taking his eyes off him. He unbuttoned his pants, pulled them and his boxers down, and stood naked in front of him with his hard cock pointing at Adrián’s face. Adrián reached out, grabbed it, and jerked it with a closed fist, two, three times, watching Diego close his eyes and clench his teeth.

—Lie on your stomach —Adrián told him—. On the bed. On all fours.

Diego obeyed without arguing. He climbed onto the mattress and got on all fours, back arched and ass lifted. He heard Adrián open the nightstand drawer, heard the click of a cap, and then felt Adrián’s fingers, cold from the lube, spreading his cheeks apart.

—You’ve hated me for years —Adrián murmured behind him, while sliding one finger over his entrance, pressing without quite going in—. And I’ve spent the same amount of time thinking about having you like this.

The finger slid in with a slow push. Diego let out a choked moan into the pillow. Adrián moved it slowly, in circles, and added a second. Diego felt himself opening, the burn giving way to something deeper, heavier, climbing up his spine. Adrián leaned over his back, bit his shoulder, and slipped in a third finger.

—Put it in already —Diego gasped—. Stop playing.

—Impatient.

Adrián pulled his fingers out. Diego heard the condom wrapper, the sound of latex rolling open, and then the head of Adrián’s cock pressing against his entrance. He pushed in slowly, very slowly, giving him time. Diego clenched the sheets in both fists as he felt his ass open around the shaft. When Adrián was all the way inside, he stayed still, breathing against Diego’s nape.

—Can you take it?

—Move, asshole.

Adrián gave a low, rough laugh and started to move. Long withdrawals, hard entries, each thrust driving Diego so deep he saw stars. The bed creaked beneath them. Adrián’s thighs struck Diego’s ass with a sound that was both wet and dry. Diego dropped one hand to his own cock and started jerking off to the rhythm of the thrusts.

—Like that, yeah —Adrián moaned in his ear—. Touch yourself while I fuck you. I want to feel you clench when you come.

—Shut up and fuck me harder.

Adrián grabbed his hips with both hands, straightened on his knees, and began hammering into him with all the power of his waist. Diego stopped bothering to hide his moans. Adrián was fucking him at a pace that left him no room to breathe, tugging his hair with one hand, holding his hip with the other. Diego jerked himself so fast his wrist started to ache.

—I’m coming —Diego panted—. I’m coming, fuck.

—Come for me.

Diego came with a long grunt, shooting semen onto the sheet beneath him, squeezing Adrián’s cock with his ass so hard that Adrián let out a near-complaining moan. Adrián thrust in three, four more times, fast, clumsy, until he buried himself to the hilt, went still, and Diego felt him empty into the condom, throbbing against the walls of his ass.

They stayed like that for a while, Adrián collapsed over Diego’s back, breathing against his shoulder blade. When he finally came out, carefully, Diego rolled onto his back and looked at him. Adrián took off the condom, tied it off, tossed it in the bin, and let himself fall beside him.

—Since fourteen, seriously? —Diego asked, staring at the ceiling.

—Since fourteen.

—And Mateo knew too.

—Mateo knows everything. He’s unbearable.

Diego turned on his side and placed a hand on Adrián’s chest, right over his heart.

—Well. Now you owe me one.

***

When Mateo came back up two hours later, after a very long coffee at the corner café, he found the door ajar and Adrián on the couch wearing a T-shirt that wasn’t his. Diego had gone out to buy something to eat.

—Was it what you imagined? —Mateo asked, sitting down beside him.

—It was much better. When he kissed me in the hallway, I was one second away from abandoning every plan and dragging him into the bedroom myself. And that’s exactly what we did.

—Not exactly like we discussed.

Adrián rubbed his face with both hands.

—Are you ever going to tell him you’ve been in love with him since you were fourteen? That we’ve spent eight years as academic rivals only because it was the only way you could think of to make him notice you?

—I told him. While I was sucking his cock, to be exact.

—Adrián.

—It came out on its own.

Mateo gave a humorless laugh.

—It hurt to lie to him. He’s my best friend.

—I know. And we don’t lie to him anymore. —Adrián opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling—. If I hadn’t accidentally sent you that message, today we wouldn’t be plotting in my living room.

—For once, I’m grateful you messed up. Otherwise you’d still be throwing things in each other’s faces in the lecture hall for another eight years.

Adrián laughed for the first time all morning, genuinely. A short, low laugh that sounded like relief.

—He’s coming back, you know —Mateo said, getting to his feet—. With a grocery bag. And he’s going to ask if this was your plan from the start. And you’re going to have to tell him the truth.

—Let him ask —Adrián sat up—. This time I’m not lying to him about anything.

Mateo patted his shoulder and headed for the door.

—By the way, Mati —Adrián said when Mateo already had a hand on the knob—. Are you really crushing on Camila?

—That —Mateo opened the door with a smile— is a story for another day.