That New Year’s Eve, Four Men and a Single Bed

After Christmas was over, the village breathed an air of tense calm, as if the snow on the rooftops had frozen feelings in place only so they could explode with even greater force at the year’s farewell. The clothing shop in the center was working flat out: shelves packed with dungarees in every color, customers pouring in in waves drawn by Unai’s viral success, the smell of new fabric permeating the place. Gorka and Imanol barely had time to breathe between sales and shipments, but in their looks there was a mixture of pride and exhaustion that only they understood.

There were two days left until New Year’s Eve and the entire village was preparing in its own way. Unai and Eneko, settled in the guest room of Mikel and Asier’s house, had spent weeks planning a surprise that filled their chests with nerves. With what they had earned from sponsorships that had turned him into a basketball icon, they had bought a large stone-and-wood house at the entrance to the village, with a spacious garden and views of the hills. The idea was to divide it into three: one home for Unai’s mother, another for his brother, and the third for the two of them.

—This is real —Unai murmured one night, the tablet with the plans on his knees, his voice trembling—. My mother will never have to go back to the factory again.

—She deserves it —Eneko replied, his hand on Unai’s shoulder—. And so do you. It’ll be a real home.

Every night they talked about how they would decorate the houses, about family dinners, about a future where the big house would be a safe refuge. The shared dream brought them closer, made them forget the homophobic banner someone had hung at the village entrance. They slept tangled together under the sheets, skin against skin, a tender warmth that soothed uncertainty.

***

The thirtieth dawned under a leaden sky threatening snow, but the shop buzzed with anticipation. Closed to the public for the first time in weeks, it had been transformed into an improvised stage: the entrance turned into a wooden catwalk, white lights, folding chairs in rows for the press. They were presenting the new clothing line inspired by Unai, the result of the deal with two international brands.

In the back room, Unai adjusted the moss-green cotton dungarees, his color for special occasions, fitted to his torso, with cargo pockets that recalled his rebellious essence. Eneko wore the sky blue the creatives had chosen for him, soft and luminous.

—They got it spot on —Unai said in front of the mirror, though his voice sounded resigned—. It’s work right in the middle of family time.

—I know. —Eneko brushed the back of his neck—. But with you by my side, we handle it better.

The presentation went as planned. The sales reps talked about the line, they played a video on the giant screen, and then Unai walked onto the runway with a steady stride, followed by Eneko. The crowd erupted into applause, cameras flashing. In the improvised press conference everything flowed until a reporter from a foreign channel raised the microphone and asked off script:

—What do you make of the rumors placing you in the American top league this very season?

Unai froze, eyes wide. After stammering, he answered in an unsteady voice:

—I already play for a franchise, in the development team. I don’t know what you mean.

The journalist insisted. Unai searched for Mikel with his eyes, his face pale, not understanding anything. They brought the event to a close, opened the shop, and customers came flooding in, but the media storm had already started again: flashes, shouted questions, rumors coming to life.

***

That same afternoon, far from the noise, Dani was stretched out on Marc’s bed —which was now his too, sheets rumpled with the smell of both of them, posters on the walls, the lamp’s warm light—. Marc was watching a series with his earbuds in while Dani slid his finger over his phone, until a post stopped his heart: the announcement of the event, with a live stream on the shop’s channel.

—Marc! Look at this, Unai and Eneko are in the village —he exclaimed.

Marc took one earbud out.

—Seriously? And they didn’t tell us anything?

Dani opened the chat they shared with them and typed. Eneko replied almost instantly: they had arrived days ago, they wanted to meet up before the Three Kings, and they had a surprise. Dani felt warmth in his chest.

—Confirmed —he typed back, and Marc hugged him from behind, his hand sliding toward the inner thigh with a subtle, filthy intent.

They went downstairs to watch the live stream. Marc’s parents, Joseba and Rosa, settled onto the sofa, resigned but happy to share the moment.

—Let’s see how it goes —Rosa said with a motherly smile.

—Go to the kitchen with Marc —Joseba asked Dani— and make sure he doesn’t put too much butter on the popcorn.

Dani obeyed at once. In the kitchen he hugged Marc from behind while Marc waited for the microwave to beep, and spoke in a low voice, rough with sudden desire.

—I’m so turned on I don’t know if I’ll be able to hold out. The risk gets me going like crazy.

Marc, without turning around, palmed the hardness through the thin fabric of his pajama pants, his own erection pressing against the countertop.

—Fuck, same here. I can feel how hard you are against me.

Without thinking, he hoisted him up onto the counter, yanked down his pants in a rush, and took him deep into his mouth, his tongue circling the swollen head, hands firm on his hips, sucking with a rhythm that made Dani’s legs tremble.

—Marc... your parents are in the living room —he panted between strangled sighs—. They could catch us. And that turns me on even more.

Marc didn’t stop. He sucked harder, his throat tightening around the throbbing cock until Dani, in a choked gasp, spilled hot and thick into his mouth. Marc swallowed without leaving a trace, his tongue cleaning up every drop while Dani shook. They pulled themselves together in a hurry, the microwave beeped, they emptied the popcorn into a bowl and sat on the floor in front of the TV, complicit, the fresh filth still throbbing between their legs.

Then, in the middle of the broadcast, the question about the signing came up. The phone started vibrating nonstop: rumors that Unai was on the list for an immediate call-up, tweets in support and homophobic comments in equal measure. Dani felt a knot form in his stomach.

—This is insane. Unai in the top league?

—If it’s true —Marc said, squeezing his hand—, it’s going to change everything.

***

At Mikel and Asier’s house, the crisis team formed in the living room, the fireplace crackling, the aroma of fresh coffee filling the air. Unai couldn’t keep still, pacing with his hands on his head.

—Now? Right now, when we’ve finally got some breathing room, when we’re with family.

Eneko watched him curled up on the sofa, knees drawn to his chest, eyes glassy. The fear of losing the peace they had recovered in the village tightened his chest, and tears welled up over all the hatred piling up on social media.

—Sit down for a minute, please —he begged in a trembling voice.

Mikel, phone still in hand, spoke gravely:

—We need to get ready. The agent says the head coach has asked for names and you’re in the mix. Injuries, a bad start to the season... they need fresh blood.

Unai stopped in front of the fire.

—I don’t know if I’m ready. And with all the homophobic noise, what are they going to say?

—It’s your decision, kid —Asier replied as he poured the cups—. Tomorrow we’ll talk to the agent, no rush. We’re not going to lose this, only expand it.

But Eneko was overwhelmed. The hatred, the rumors, the sporting and social pressure loomed over them like a shadow that wouldn’t let him breathe.

—I can’t —he sobbed—. It’s all too much for me. What if it destroys us?

Unai took him to the room, undressed him slowly, covered him in soft kisses and caresses, his hardened body brushing his thigh. But Eneko kept trembling, the sobs muffled against the pillow. Then Unai made a desperate decision, the one that had been his refuge in other crises before he met Eneko: he took him by the hand to Mikel and Asier’s bedroom, where he found them naked, spooned together.

—Eneko’s broken —Unai said, his voice breaking—. I need your help.

The two understood instantly and opened the bed for them.

The encounter began tenderly. Mikel kissed Eneko slowly, tongue exploring his mouth, hands moving down his torso to his nipples; Asier, from behind, licked his neck while his hand slid down to wrap around his cock in a slick caress; Unai, at his side, sucked his other nipple, massaging his taut balls.

—Feel how we surround you —Mikel growled—. You’re ours. Let it all go.

Eneko panted. The filthy thrill of being touched by three men at once ignited his desire and wiped away, for a moment, everything else.

—Yes... I need this. Make me forget.

Unai entered him from behind slowly, deep rhythmic thrusts, while Mikel took him down to the base in a deep swallow, his throat tight around him, and Asier devoured his mouth with his tongue. They changed positions: Mikel rode him on all fours, smacks on his ass echoing, and Unai offered him his cock to his mouth. Asier swallowed him while fingers explored his loosened opening.

—Fuck, Eneko, you’re so tight —Unai panted before spilling hot inside him.

The orgasms came almost in sync, fluids mixing on the soaked sheets, moans smothered in kisses, complicit looks fanning the fire. Eneko, exhausted but finally calm, shed tears of relief between gasps.

—Thank you —he whispered—. I needed it. To feel loved by everyone, to switch off.

The goal had been achieved: Eneko accepted the change with renewed peace, and that shared intimacy sealed the bond between the four of them.

***

New Year’s Eve arrived wrapped in a restless atmosphere: journalists prowling around, flashes in the streets, rumors about Unai’s possible leap. Mikel and Asier decided to celebrate at home, with Unai, Eneko, and Unai’s mother and brother. An intimate dinner: candles, homemade food, cider, and carols in the background.

—We don’t need any more noise —Mikel said calmly.

During dinner, Unai announced the purchase of the house.

—Mom, the house is for you, for my brother, and for us. Leave the factory. You don’t need it anymore.

She, tears falling, hugged her son.

—My boy... thank you. I never imagined this.

—We’re going to be happy here —his brother added, emotional.

Meanwhile, in the capital, Gorka and Imanol were spending a dreamlike evening with their families in a txoko in the old quarter. They had been planning something for weeks, and in the middle of the toast Imanol knelt in front of Gorka, a ring in his hand and his voice trembling but steady.

—Since the day I met you I knew you were my home. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, building, loving... will you marry me?

There were tears, applause, emotional families. Gorka could barely speak.

—Yes. A thousand times yes.

The mothers hugged, crying, and the fathers welcomed the new son. Later, Gorka made a video call and the news spread from screen to screen: Unai, Eneko, Mikel, and Asier joined the celebration amid congratulations and tears.

—We want you at the wedding —Gorka said—. We need you.

—We’ll be there —Eneko replied—. Always.

That same night, elsewhere, Marc and Dani celebrated like the united family they had become, with Dani’s mother included, who already considered Marc one more son. Dinner, laughter, toasts, palpable acceptance. Marc had dressed in black, his newly bleached hair the only touch of color; Dani in pure white, with his pink streaks, both of them drop-dead gorgeous.

After midnight, they headed out into the capital’s night and found bars where other guys like them danced without fear. For the first time they went out into the street without hiding, hands intertwined, while the new year began as a promise that, whatever happened with the rumors and the hatred, they would never again have to turn the light off.