The Morning My Boyfriend Wanted Me to Dominate Him

The news that Lucas’s first child was on the way turned the family dinner into a celebration that lasted until dawn. The wine flowed without restraint, there were improvised toasts, clumsy dances in the courtyard, and those laughs that only appear when an entire family lets itself relax all at once. No one wanted it to end. We held out until the sky began to lighten and the first guests took their leave, dragging their feet.

Bruno and I were among the last to go. We called a taxi at six in the morning, with our stomachs churning from the alcohol and our legs numb. He was leaning against the window, half unconscious, and every bump made him grunt. I held his hand on the seat, counting the traffic lights left before we reached the apartment we’d shared for barely three months.

When we opened the door, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee welcomed us from the kitchen. Esteban, the middle brother, was awake, pouring himself a cup with three spoonfuls of sugar as if it were nine o’clock on any ordinary day.

—Man, the couple of the season. Coffee? —he offered, without the slightest trace of sleepiness.

We stared at him, puzzled. He had left the celebration as soon as Lucas’s pregnancy was announced.

—You’re still up? —Bruno asked, rubbing his eyes.

—Yeah, but only for a while. I was thinking of studying.

—Studying? We’re on vacation.

—Competitive exams don’t care about seasons, Bruno.

—I see.

—You two should take advantage of the chance to sleep now that there’s no one around to chew you out. But nothing weird, okay? These walls are thin, and I hear everything.

—Weird stuff? —I laughed.— What exactly are you imagining, brother-in-law?

—Nothing specific. I’m just warning you to be careful —he explained, blushing, folding his arms to look serious when he wasn’t.

—Relax, brainiac. We know how to control ourselves.

—Good. Well, I’m going up to my room. Rest up —he said goodbye, and climbed the stairs with the cup in his hand faster than anyone would have expected.

Bruno and I looked at each other, puzzled by his nervousness, but we were too exhausted to think much of it. The stairs to the bedroom felt like a mountain that morning, so we collapsed onto the living room sofa. He fell first and dragged me down with him. I ended up with my head on his shoulder and his arm around my waist, and the whisper of the wind against the shutters finally pulled us into sleep.

***

Lucas’s wedding, months earlier, had been a turning point for us. Not because of anything bad. That night, between drinks and confidences, we opened ourselves up completely to each other, and that ended up strengthening the foundations of something we already felt was unbreakable.

Bruno confessed then that he hadn’t lost his virginity with me, as I’d believed, but two years earlier, with a trainer at the club he’d gone to as a teenager, an older man with patient hands who taught him more than the sport required. I, for my part, admitted to the affair I’d had with an instructor at the academy after catching him after hours with his favorite student, and the rough fuck in the locker room with a classmate whose coming of age had suited him beautifully.

Far from making us uncomfortable, knowing those things turned us on. The thrill of imagining what each of us had done behind the other’s back gave us whole nights of a kind we hadn’t known before. And now that we lived alone, with no parents upstairs and no neighbors pressed against the wall, we simply weren’t capable of getting out of bed on time.

***

That morning was no different. I woke after eight with Bruno’s body tangled with mine and the headache already gone. At some point we had dragged ourselves into the bedroom together, without remembering when.

—Baby... we’re going to be late again —he murmured against my hair.

—Just a little longer —I begged, kissing his chest.

—You say the same thing every day.

—And you agree every day.

There wasn’t a morning when we didn’t show up at the academy an hour late, but there also wasn’t a morning when we skipped the ritual. I moved down his torso with short, wet kisses until I disappeared beneath the edge of the sheet. I took his still-sleepy cock in my mouth, just like every day. That gesture worked better than Esteban’s coffee: it woke him all the way up, gave him fuel to face the day.

But today was one of those rare days. Bruno almost always held the reins; it wasn’t like him to reject the idea of having me under his control, of setting the pace, of making it clear who was in charge. However, when he stayed quiet and still like now, I knew what role was mine. The active one.

He gave a low moan, letting me do what I wanted, and his erection grew fast in my mouth, clear proof that he liked the idea more than he would admit out loud. I kissed the shaft several times, took my time, and lapped up his first fluids with my tongue.

—Like that, keep going like that —he whispered, in a voice I didn’t know him to have at that hour.

I knew every one of his weak spots. I moved my hand to his balls, held them calmly, and began to massage them while keeping up the rhythm, letting the saliva gather and drip, soaking everything. With my other hand I was pleasuring myself, and that only lit him up more. I could feel him holding back, delaying the finish, because he still wanted more and had trouble asking for it.

He didn’t need to say it. Bruno abandoned his limp posture, spread those strong legs that had so often held me pinned, and looked down at me with a surrender he rarely allowed himself.

—That’s two times this week —I remarked.— I didn’t know you liked it that much.

—Don’t you like doing it to me? —he answered, half teasing, half challenging.

—I love it.

I buried my face between his thighs before he finished the sentence. He held his legs open with effort, trembling, looking at me numbed by pleasure while I worked with my tongue, tracing slow circles, going up and down until I had him moaning without shame.

—I could never get tired of this —I said, pulling back only slightly—, but today I’m too horny. I want to fuck you now.

—Should I stay like this? —he asked, referring to the position.

—No. Today we change it up. Get on all fours.

Bruno obeyed without arguing, eager, and got into the most vulnerable position there is between two men. I stood behind him, spat into my hand to wet myself, and also onto his opening. This time I didn’t prep him with my fingers; both of us were too impatient. I pushed in slowly at first, entering halfway, enjoying the way he yielded to let me in.

—Ah... fuck —he groaned, arching his back.

I never lasted very long when it was my turn to take this role; it was unusual and my body wasn’t used to it. But what I lacked in endurance, I made up for in intensity. Each thrust looked for that spot that made him scream, and when I found it, Bruno clenched the sheets in his fists and begged for more. I held his hips to keep him where I wanted him.

One stab.

And another.

And another.

He held out like that for a good while, scratching at the mattress, until he freed one hand to pleasure himself. His cock had been rigid all this time without anyone touching it, already leaking before the first stroke. I could feel he wasn’t going to last, and neither was I: the tightness and heat of his insides had me right on the edge.

—I’m coming —I panted.

I pulled out with some difficulty and finished on his back, marking his skin. Seeing me like that, gasping, was enough to make Bruno finish too, moaning into the pillow at the filthiness of the whole scene.

I reached for a tissue from the nightstand and carefully wiped his back clean. He sat up slowly on the bed, with a grimace of annoyance, and the two of us took a moment to catch our breath. There wasn’t much to say. It was the same routine as always, a routine we wanted to last forever, even if neither of us knew whether it was good for our grades.

—What time is it? —he asked.

—Nine fifteen.

—Late again —he lamented, flopping back onto the mattress.

—Come on, get up. If we hurry in the shower, we’ll make it to second class.

I gave him a friendly tap on the back of the neck that brought out that childish attitude he only allowed himself with me. While I looked for clean clothes and a couple of towels in the closet, I heard him laughing to himself.

—Baby, I think I’ve already figured out what I want for my birthday.

—Oh yeah? Tell me.

—A new set of sheets. So we can stain all the ones we want.

He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind and kissed my neck.

—You really are something else —I told him.

—Does that mean you regret ending up with me?

He wasn’t asking it as a complaint, and there was no offense in his voice, but I wanted to make it clear again.

—I would never regret being with you, Bruno. You’re my sun, and you always will be.

He fell silent for a moment. He knew what those words meant for someone who had spent years believing he was a mistake. The fourth of six siblings, the one who inherited the older boys’ clothes, the one whose birthday was rarely celebrated and who almost never got more than one gift at Christmas. His mother, he’d told me, had been expecting a girl when he came along, and that girl ended up being born two years later and getting all the affection. Bruno had grown up convinced he was surplus, that there was nothing special about him.

I had set myself the task of disproving that idea every day we spent together. Showing him he was worthy, that he deserved love and desire like anyone else, that he was deeply lovable.

—And you’ll never stop being my moon —he replied softly—, the one who lights the way when everything gets dark.

He sealed the line with a slow kiss, one of those kisses that aren’t in any rush to end. Deep down, we were still the same awkward boys who had met years ago on the first day of class, never suspecting then what we would become to each other. And, as they say, what is well joined is very hard to break apart.