My Rival Had Been in Love with Me for Years

Andrés woke up with no idea where he was.

Light came in through the slats of blinds that weren’t his. The ceiling was too high, the walls too white, and the pillow smelled of something it took him a few seconds to identify. He processed the silence, the weight of the sheet over his body, the dull hammer pounding behind his eyes.

He lifted the sheet to make sure. No shirt, no underwear, nothing. He let it fall back and stared at the ceiling while he tried to sort out the night before.

He remembered the party in Iván’s apartment. The first beers, the music far too loud, the thick smoke in the living room. And Diego.

Diego Saura. His biggest source of irritation since first year of college.

He remembered seeing him leaning against the bar, with that pose of his, as if he never had to try at anything, talking to the guy Andrés had been watching all night. The conversation he’d had with him afterward had not been pleasant. Beyond that, everything was blurry.

He sat up slowly and waited for the dizziness to pass. The room was neat: a desk with books and Criminal Law notes, clothes hanging from the chair that definitely weren’t his, a bookshelf with the same titles he had at home but in a different order.

He gathered his clothes from the floor, dressed in silence, and stepped into the hallway.

The sound of coffee dripping into a cup came from the kitchen.

Andrés decided not to go past the doorway and headed straight for the exit. He gripped the knob, pulled slowly.

—Leaving already?

He froze with his hand on the door.

Diego was leaning against the kitchen doorway. He wore only dark boxer briefs and plastic flip-flops, his torso bare, his hair uncombed. It wasn’t the first time Andrés had seen him like that — they overlapped at the faculty gym — but it was always a problem to look too long. The bulge of his cock was outlined against the thin fabric of the boxers, and Andrés looked away faster than he would have liked.

—Yeah —Andrés said without fully turning around—. Thanks for letting me stay.

—You can have a coffee before you go.

—I’ve got things to do.

Diego stepped away from the frame and walked over to rest one hand on the front doorframe, blocking the exit with apparent ease. There was no aggression in the gesture. It was something closer to the calm of someone who wasn’t in a hurry.

—Don’t you want to know what happened last night?

Andrés looked at him for the first time since he’d come out into the hall. It took effort to hold his gaze for even the necessary moment.

—I was drunk. We argued, I guess you offered to let me stay here so I wouldn’t drive, and I fell asleep. Not much to talk about.

Diego smiled. It was a slow smile, the kind someone gives when they know something the other person doesn’t.

—We argued quite a bit —he confirmed—. You told me you’d gone more than a year without getting laid. That it was my fault because I always ended up with the guys you liked.

Andrés felt the heat rise in his face.

That was exactly what he thought, even though he would never have said it out loud sober. Diego Saura showed up anywhere, smiled at anyone, and somehow always ended up being the center of attention. In class, in the halls, at parties. And he, Andrés, always ended up watching from a distance with something close to resentment.

—I don’t remember saying that —he lied.

—Of course. —Diego took his hand off the door—. The car’s around the corner, just so you know.

***

Andrés found the motorcycle where he’d left it. He stood beside it with his phone in his hand and dialed Sara’s number.

—Finally —she said without even saying hello—. Where the hell did you disappear to last night? I was worried.

—Tell me what happened.

—What happened? You got drunk, you argued with Diego in front of everyone, you told him he’d ruined your last year and a half, and then you both went to the bathroom together.

—To the bathroom.

—Yeah. He came out twenty minutes later. Alone.

—And me?

—You came out shortly after with Mateo. And then Diego left with you. I didn’t know anything else. —A pause—. Andrés, what exactly happened?

—I don’t know. That’s the problem. —He hung up before she could answer.

Mateo took three rings to answer.

—I knew you were going to call —he said.

—Tell me about the bathroom.

Silence.

—Diego asked me not to say anything.

—Mateo. I was there.

Another silence, longer this time.

—I went in for toilet paper —he said at last—. You two were by the sink. You had him against the wall and you were shoving your tongue down his throat. You had your hand inside his pants, grabbing his cock, and he wasn’t exactly pulling away. You could hear the moaning from the door. Then you pushed him into one of the stalls and went over to the condom machine on the wall. That was when he saw me. He looked at me, pointed at the door, and asked me not to say anything. I left.

Andrés didn’t answer right away.

—Did he ever try to pull away? —he asked.

—No. —A pause—. He was hard. You could tell from a mile off. He just pushed you farther in. To keep going, not to stop.

—Thanks —he said, and hung up.

***

He climbed the three floors on foot because he needed the time to think, though it didn’t help much. He rang the buzzer harder than necessary.

—Come up —Diego said without asking who it was.

Andrés walked into the apartment and stood in the middle of the living room. Diego was sitting on the sofa, coffee cup in hand, with an expression that wasn’t surprise.

—I know what happened in the bathroom —Andrés said—. Mateo told me. I was kissing you, I had your cock in my hand, and you didn’t pull away. You pushed me inside and went to get a condom.

Diego set the cup carefully on the table.

—Yeah.

—That’s all you’re going to say?

—What else do you want me to say?

—Why you told me this morning that nothing happened.

Diego stood up. He was a little taller than Andrés, and when he walked toward him there was something in his posture that was hard to ignore. It wasn’t aggression. It was exactly the opposite.

—Because you were very drunk —he said—. And because when Mateo came in and looked at me like that, I realized that if I kept going, the next day you’d regret it. Or you’d say I’d taken advantage of you. And neither of those things was what I wanted. And I was dying from not being able to take you, I swear. I was so hard it hurt.

—What did you want?

Diego didn’t answer right away. He went to the window and stood looking out at the street, arms crossed over his chest.

—For you to remember it —he said at last—. For you to decide it with a clear head.

Andrés studied him from the other side of the room. He’d spent four years studying criminology and had learned to recognize when someone was circling around the point.

—Why have you spent three years trying to beat my grades in every exam? —he asked—. And talking to every guy I’ve ever ended up with at a party?

Diego kept looking out at the street.

—The second one isn’t exactly how you put it.

—Then describe it yourself.

A long pause.

—Have you ever done something stupid for a long time because you didn’t know how to do anything else?

Diego finally turned around. He had an expression Andrés had never seen on him before. It wasn’t the calm smile from the halls or the irritating confidence from seminars. It was something much closer to discomfort.

—I’ve known you since you were fourteen —he said—. Back in high school. You were in another class. I don’t think you remember me.

Andrés frowned.

—No.

—We got into the same program and suddenly you were there again. —He ran a hand through his hair—. The only way I could think of being close without it seeming weird was to compete with you. Put something in front of you that you’d have to beat. —A pause—. It’s stupid. I know perfectly well.

The silence that followed was different from all the others that morning.

Andrés took a step toward him. Then another.

—How long have you been doing this?

—Since first year.

—That’s four years, Diego.

—I know.

—And the guys at the parties?

Diego made a vague gesture with one hand.

—Sometimes I got nervous seeing you talk to someone. It wasn’t a plan. It was a reflex. —He lowered his gaze—. I’m not proud of that either.

Andrés stopped less than a meter from him. From that distance he could see the small muscle Diego clenched in his jaw when he was tense. He’d seen it before, on grade-release days, when they waited for results in the hall. He’d always taken it for rivalry.

—This morning you told me nothing happened —Andrés said—. But you cleaned my car. And you left me a note.

Diego dropped his eyes to the floor.

—I couldn’t leave it like that.

—Why not?

—Because it mattered —he said, quieter—. Even if you weren’t going to remember it.

Andrés closed the last step between them. They were twenty centimeters apart. Diego didn’t move, but he didn’t lift his gaze right away either.

—Last night —Diego said without moving—, when Mateo came in and looked at me like that, the first thing I thought wasn’t that you’d surprised me. The first thing I thought was finally.

—Finally what.

—Finally something without competition. No excuses. —A tiny pause—. Something real.

Andrés raised a hand and pressed his fingers to Diego’s chest. He felt the fast beating beneath his palm, quicker than he’d expected. He shoved him back slowly until Diego sat down on the sofa.

He remained standing in front of him.

—Four years —he said.

—Yeah.

—You’re an idiot.

—I know.

—You could have said something at any moment. Any of the four years.

Diego looked up at him with that new expression Andrés still didn’t know how to classify exactly.

—Would you have listened?

Andrés thought about four years of exams compared out loud, of notes lent grudgingly, of conversations that began like arguments and ended up lasting longer than they should. He thought about all the times he’d arrived at a party looking for something without really knowing what, and all the times Diego had been there, being exactly what he was.

He sat down beside him on the sofa.

—Probably not —he admitted.

Diego let out the air very slowly.

—That’s why —he said.

They didn’t touch. They stayed seated side by side, with the coffee already cold on the table and the afternoon light coming through the window. It was the first time in four years that Andrés didn’t feel the need to beat him at anything.

After a long while, Diego spoke without moving.

—I can make more coffee.

—Yeah —Andrés said—. Make more coffee.

Diego stood up. Andrés followed him into the kitchen without anyone saying it out loud, and he leaned against the counter while Diego filled the coffee maker. The afternoon outside was calm. So was the apartment.

—Next time you want to talk to me —Andrés said at last—, you don’t need to take my hookups with you.

Diego laughed. It was brief, almost surprised, a laugh Andrés had never heard from him with that tone.

—Deal —he said.

And then Andrés took the step he’d been missing. He put a hand on the back of Diego’s neck, turned him toward him, and kissed him without asking. Diego let himself be kissed for half a second before answering with his tongue, pushing him slowly against the counter. It was a wet, deep kiss, with their teeth knocking together and the taste of coffee still on their lips. Andrés felt Diego’s cock grow against his hip through the fabric of his boxers and realized he was just as hard inside his jeans.

—To the bedroom —Diego said against his mouth.

—No —Andrés replied, and bit his lip—. Here first.

He shoved Diego’s boxers down with both hands. Diego’s cock sprang free, thick, already leaking at the tip. Andrés knelt on the kitchen floor without ceremony and took him all the way into his mouth. Diego let out a rough moan, braced his palms on the counter, and looked down to watch him. Andrés sucked him slowly the first time, pulled back to the tip, ran his tongue under the glans to catch the drop of pre-cum hanging there, and then swallowed him again all the way to the throat.

—Fuck —murmured Diego—. Fuck, Andrés.

Andrés looked up at him from below while he sucked him off. He loved having him like this, with that hard, throbbing cock filling his mouth, after four years of looking at him from far away and hating him for being exactly what he was. He ran his tongue along the whole length, licked his balls one by one, took them into his mouth two at a time, swallowed him whole again. Diego buried his fingers in Andrés’s hair, not to force him, only to hold onto something.

—If you keep going like that I’m going to come in your mouth —Diego said, his voice broken.

Andrés pulled him out of his mouth with a wet sound and stood up, his lips shining with saliva.

—Not yet.

Diego yanked him by the neck to kiss him again, tasting himself in Andrés’s mouth. He ripped his T-shirt over his head, jerked open his jeans, pulled down his underwear with the same hurry. Andrés’s cock pressed into Diego’s stomach when they were both naked in the kitchen. Diego grabbed it with his hand and stroked him twice slowly, squeezing from base to tip.

—To the bedroom —Diego repeated, this time without asking.

He led him by the arm down the hall. Andrés fell back on the bed, face up, and Diego climbed on top astride him. He leaned down and kissed him again, long, while rubbing their cocks together with his hand. Skin against skin, the pre-cum already starting to wet them both, breath coming in broken gasps.

—A year and a half —Diego said against his neck—. That’s what you said last night. A year and a half without fucking.

—Shut up —Andrés answered, tugging his hair so he’d bite harder.

Diego worked his way down Andrés’s body, kissing his chest, his nipples, his stomach. He took Andrés’s cock in his hand and sucked him into his mouth in one motion. Andrés arched against the mattress. Diego sucked him with a calm that was almost cruel, sucking and releasing, licking every inch of him, sucking his balls until Andrés grabbed his hair with both hands.

—Stop. I’m going to come and I don’t want to come like this.

—How do you want to come?

Andrés looked at him. His lips were red and swollen from sucking him off, his chin wet, his hair tousled.

—With you inside me.

Diego reached toward the nightstand, took out lube and a condom. Andrés turned onto his stomach and spread his legs over the sheets. Diego bit one cheek and then the other before running his tongue between them. Andrés buried his face in the pillow as Diego’s tongue licked his hole, pushed inside, and coated him completely with spit.

—Fuck —Andrés moaned into the pillow—. Fuck, Diego.

Diego ate his ass for several minutes, unhurried, alternating his tongue with fingers already slick with lube. One first, then two, moving slowly, opening him, searching for the spot that made Andrés let out a different kind of moan. When he found it, Andrés started fucking his fingers by thrusting his hips back on his own.

—Put it in already.

—Wait.

—Fuck me already.

Diego laughed softly against his ass, rolled on the condom, slicked himself up, and settled behind him. He ran a hand over Andrés’s back, gripped his hip, and rested the tip of his cock at the hole.

—Breathe.

He pushed in slowly. Andrés squeezed his eyes shut at the feel of him entering, the hot stretch, the pressure that was almost pain and then became something else. Diego stopped halfway, let him adjust, and pushed again until he was all the way in. His balls slapped against Andrés’s ass. Andrés let out a long moan into the pillow.

—Good? —Diego asked, his voice tight.

—Fuck me.

Diego started moving. First slowly, pulling his cock nearly all the way out and sliding back in to the hilt, enjoying every inch. Then faster, gripping Andrés’s hips with both hands, fucking him with a steady rhythm that made their bodies sound against each other. Andrés shoved his ass back to take him all the way.

—Like that —he gasped—. Harder.

Diego leaned over him, put a hand on the back of his neck, pressed his face into the pillow, and drove deeper into him. He started fucking him for real, with hard thrusts that made the bed creak against the wall, his breath panting by Andrés’s ear. He bit his shoulder, his neck, his ear.

—Four years —Diego growled against his skin—. Four fucking years imagining this.

—Shut up and keep going.

Diego straightened, pulled Andrés up onto his knees with his chest still against the mattress. From that angle the cock went in differently, deeper, hitting a spot that made Andrés see lights. Andrés clutched the sheets and moaned, unable to hide it.

—Turn over —Diego said suddenly, sliding out of him with a wet sound.

Andrés obeyed. He rolled onto his back and Diego lifted both legs over his shoulders and slammed back into him in one push, all the way to the hilt. Now they could see each other’s faces. Diego fucked him while looking him in the eyes, and it was almost worse that way, almost impossible to take.

—Touch yourself —Diego said, his voice hoarse—. I want to see you come.

Andrés grabbed his cock and started jerking himself off to the rhythm of the thrusts. The bed hit the wall, the smell of sweat and sex filled the room, and Diego kept fucking him while watching his face without looking away. It didn’t take long. Andrés felt the orgasm rising from his balls, clenched his legs around Diego’s hips, and came in spurts over his own chest and stomach. His cock throbbed in his hand while semen spilled out in several thick, hot waves, splashing all the way up to his collarbone.

Diego kept fucking him while Andrés came, and the ass tightening around his cock was too much. He pulled out abruptly, yanked the condom off, and jerked himself three times over him. He came across Andrés’s chest, mixing his semen with his own, sending thick spurts that landed on his stomach and chin.

He stayed breathing over him without moving. He ran his fingers over Andrés’s chest, mixing their cum together, and swept his thumb over his lips. Andrés caught his wrist and sucked his fingers clean with the come still warm.

—Fuck —Diego said very softly—. Fuck.

He let himself fall beside him. They both stared at the ceiling as their breathing slowly returned to normal. Andrés noticed his skin starting to itch where the semen was drying.

—If this is what I’ve been waiting a year and a half for —he said—, it’s your fault for keeping quiet so long.

Diego laughed again, that new laugh.

—I’ll make a note of it for next time.

—There’s going to be a next time in a bit.

—I know.

He rolled onto his side and draped an arm over him. Andrés closed his eyes, with both their cum drying on his chest and Diego’s slow breathing against his shoulder, while the apartment filled with an afternoon neither of them was in any rush to end.