The rehearsal in the fish tank changed both of us

We both had on tight silver briefs and nothing else. It was part of the act, part of the visual impact the director wanted for the opening of the show.

Sebastián and I came from the world of artistic gymnastics, so the production company had hired us not just for our trained bodies, but also for the strength and flexibility the illusion trick required. The premiere was the next day, and I had insisted on going over the closing sequence one more time before leaving.

—One run-through and we’re done —I told him.

—Just one —he repeated.

We barely knew each other. We had spent two days together in the warehouse, but Sebastián was as professional as I was and he agreed without arguing. We were alone in the hall. The technical crew had already left, and only the stage lights were still on.

We climbed onto the mechanical platform that was going to lower us into the reinforced glass box. A fish tank, really: just over a square meter of floor space and two meters high. Our hands were both cuffed behind our backs to add drama to the act, but the key was hidden in Sebastián’s closed fist. The trick held no mystery for us, not a single point where anything could go wrong.

Or so we thought.

As the platform descended, water began filling the box through side valves. A second outer wall, almost invisible, filled at the same time. The audience would see us submerged for ten seconds. Then a large black cloth would drop over the tank, I would trigger a hidden lever with my foot at the base, a hatch would drain the water from the inner compartment into a concealed reservoir, and we, now free of the cuffs, would exit through the back wall.

That was the secret: the water the audience kept seeing after the cloth was removed was always between the two outer walls. A clean illusion. No trap for us.

We didn’t use the big cloth in rehearsal, but we did use the timer projected on the hall wall.

We reached the bottom. Water covered our heads.

I waited out the ten seconds counting mentally and pressed the first lever with my foot. I felt the water level drop around us. When the water reached our mouths, I opened my eyes and looked at Sebastián, expecting him to take the key out of his fist.

—Mateo —he said, and his voice cracked—. Mateo, I dropped it.

—What?

—The key. It slipped out when the water came in. I’m so sorry.

I swallowed. The premiere was the next day. This could not be happening.

—Calm down —I said, though inside I blamed him a little—. Tomorrow there’ll be two assistants behind the box with spare keys. If one falls, someone will open us from the outside. For tonight there’s no time to look for it. We have to get out.

The water finished draining and I pressed the second lever with my foot, the one that opened the back wall. It wouldn’t budge. I tried again. I pushed harder, and the lever barely moved a millimeter before locking up again.

—It’s jammed —I said.

—Let me try —Sebastián replied, and he swung his leg over mine to reach the lever with the other foot.

The space was too narrow for two bodies to cross without touching. As he moved, his hip pressed against mine and my cuffed hands behind my back bumped into his crotch. Sebastián had a heavy bulge under the wet briefs, and every time he stepped on the lever that bulge shifted against my fingers.

—Sebas —I said.

—Sorry. This is all my fault.

I looked at him and saw he was on the verge of frustration. I decided not to say anything about the bulge. I told him to stop, to breathe, to calm down. We were tired and stressed, and the lever wasn’t going to open by brute force.

—We need to get our hands in front —he said. —If we could get our arms under our feet, we could work the lever with our hands.

He tried. He bent his torso down as far as the space allowed, but his arms hit the floor before his legs could pass over. I tried the same thing and slammed my forehead into his chest. There was no way. The box was too narrow.

—Lift me up —I said.

He looked at me, not understanding.

—Lift me to the rim of the box. If I get up there, I can put my hands on the edge, swing my legs through the loop made by my arms, and free myself. Then I can jump out and open it for you.

Sebastián nodded. He was taller and more muscular than I was, and he knew it. He crouched as low as he could and offered me his knees. I planted one foot on each knee and started climbing, my back pressed against the glass wall and my cuffed arms bouncing against the pane.

It was going well until I shifted my footing. When I tried to bring my right leg up to Sebastián’s shoulder, my briefs tore between my thighs with a sharp sound. My left foot trembled and I fell back onto his knees.

—Are you okay?

—Yes. My briefs ripped.

—No one can see us. Try again.

I tried again. I brought my leg up to his shoulder and, just as I started to bear weight, Sebastián turned his head.

—Hey, hey, no, no —he said, then laughed nervously—. Your balls are hanging in my face.

It was true. The tear in my briefs had opened wider with the movement and I could feel it: the cool air on my testicles, the wet fabric hanging uselessly to one side.

—Sorry.

—Go slow. Put more weight forward, on my waist.

I tried it that way. I put my foot on the elastic of his briefs, on his hip. When I pushed myself up to bring the other foot higher, his briefs started sliding down.

—Get up fast or you’ll leave me naked —he muttered through clenched teeth.

I brought one foot to his shoulder. His briefs slid all the way down and exposed half his cock. Mine was already hanging completely out of the torn briefs. I made an apologetic face and he looked away.

—It doesn’t matter —he said. —Keep going. There’s no other way.

I got the other foot up. My knee sank into his shoulder. The foot on the other side slipped and I ended up hanging with both knees on his shoulders, my ass against his chest. His skin was hot, sweaty, hard. My naked testicles were flattened against that firm pectoral and a shiver ran down my spine.

—Now climb up with your back against the wall —he told me, breathing hard from the effort.

I began sliding my back upward. As I rose, my thighs brushed his neck and shoulders, and the contact of his sweaty skin against mine grew more intimate with every inch. My cock began to react. I didn’t want it to happen and tried to think of anything else, but the friction was constant and the tear in my briefs no longer covered anything.

Sebastián noticed.

—Are you getting hard, Mateo? —he said in a tone meant to sound mocking and came out awkward instead—. Are you gay or what?

—I’m not gay —I shot back almost shouting—. My balls are out and you’re rubbing against everything. It’s a reflex.

I tightened my abdomen to climb faster. The briefs tore completely and my cock came free in a sudden rush, already hard, and slapped against his cheek.

—Get that out of my face! —he protested—. I’m not gay either!

—Nobody’s gay! —I fired back, breathless—. What do you want me to do?

—Climb. Get higher and get that out of my face.

I pressed my back against the wall and pushed with my legs to lift my hips. My cock ended up above his face, but my balls rested against his mouth.

—Now I’ve got your balls in my face —he said.

—I’m straining, Sebas. I can’t do any more.

He spoke against my skin. I felt the warmth of his breath, the dampness of his lips, drops of saliva falling along the curve of my thigh. Every word he said brushed against my testicles. Something inside me loosened. My cock got harder. My supporting foot started trembling on his shoulder.

—Almost there —he said. —Rest your foot on my shoulder and push yourself up.

I placed my foot on his shoulder. That forced me to open wider. My body shifted forward and, instead of my testicles, now what I had pressed against Sebastián’s mouth was my asshole. I felt his breath there. I felt his lips near. I felt something run from the nape of my neck all the way down to my heels.

—At least I don’t have your balls in my face anymore —he muttered, and as he spoke he moved his lips against that spot.

—Sebas.

—What?

—Your face is in my ass.

—On purpose —he said, sarcastic. —You hold on now. It’s my turn to be uncomfortable.

He was talking with his mouth pressed to me. Every syllable made me shudder. And then, in one of those moments, I felt his tongue. Once. Twice. My whole body convulsed and an animal sound escaped me that was not any ordinary noise.

—Sebas.

—Sorry —he said. —It slipped.

—It’s fine.

—It’s fine —he repeated.

It was fine. But the tongue came back. Now slower, longer, more insistent. I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t moan and failed completely. My cock was like a stone thirty centimeters from his face and dripping onto his chest.

—Nobody’s gay —he said softly, almost asking permission.

—Nobody’s gay —I answered, my voice broken.

His tongue went in. Just the tip. My virgin ass clenched around that warm intrusion and my hips moved on their own, searching for more. I let out a moan I could no longer disguise.

—Sebas, I can’t make it. Pull me down. I’m out of strength.

He pulled his head back, breathing in ragged gasps. I started sliding down. My cock slid across his face, leaving a bright trail on his chin. When I lowered a little more, my feet snagged on his arms cuffed behind his back. I was left hanging, my waist suspended in the air and his body right beneath me.

My wet ass dropped another inch and hit something hard and hot.

—Sebas?

—Sorry —he said, alarmed, almost frightened—. It got to me. It’s not that I… it’s not that I’m turned on, it’s the rubbing.

His voice was shaking. My body kept dropping slowly, driven by gravity and by the angle at which my feet had snagged. The head of his cock pressed against my entrance. I felt it there, asking permission without asking. My weight sank a little more.

And it went in. Just the head, but it went in.

Both of us let out a sound at the same time. Him, a mixture of shock and pleasure. Me, something I didn’t know how to name.

—It’s inside —I told him, my voice turned to thread.

—Mateo, I’m not moving. Don’t move either. I don’t…

But I was moving. I couldn’t stop. Every spasm in my thighs lowered me another millimeter onto him. My body, instead of wanting to go up, wanted to go down.

—Think about something else —I told him—. Think about anything.

—I am. I am.

He closed his eyes. His cock began to lose some of its hardness. But it wasn’t working the way I expected: as it softened, my body took more of it more easily. Three more centimeters slid in all at once.

—No, no, no —I corrected—. Stay hard. If it softens, more goes in. And you’re huge.

A nervous smile slipped out of him. That must have sounded like a compliment. His cock hardened at once and sank a little farther into me. I moaned, he moaned too, and both of us turned our faces away so we wouldn’t look at each other.

—Sebas. Think of something specific. Something that turns you on. But fast, because we need to finish this.

—Something that turns me on?

—Anything.

He went quiet for a few seconds. Then he said, in a whisper:

—Can I tell you the truth?

—Tell me.

—I was thinking about your balls in my face. About your ass in my mouth. That got me hard. I didn’t want it to, but…

My own cock jumped at hearing him say it. There was a second of silence between us in which each of us weighed what had just happened. I realized I had been turned on even more by hearing him admit he had gotten hard with me. Sebastián had more than half his cock inside me. Instead of thinking about how to get out, I was thinking about how to let it all the way in.

—We’re not gay —he said quietly, as if he had to say it out loud for it to keep being true—. Right?

—Right —I said.

—And no one’s going to find out.

—No one.

Silence. His cock throbbed inside me. My ass, which a minute earlier had been afraid of it, was now clinging to it. I drew a breath.

—Sebas —I said—. I think the only way to separate us is for you to finish.

—What?

—Come. Empty yourself. After that it’ll soften, it’ll come out on its own, and we’ll go home.

—Seriously?

—Seriously.

—And think about what?

—What you just told me. About my ass in your mouth.

I said it and surprised myself. Any remaining alibi fell right out of my mouth. Sebastián slowly opened his eyes and looked at me for the first time with all his desire exposed.

—Can I move? —he asked.

—Move.

He planted his feet firmly and began driving his hips upward. Each thrust shook me through and through. My cock thumped against his abdomen and left a bright mark on his skin. My ass, which had been virgin until five minutes ago, opened and closed around all that hot flesh with a rhythm I had learned nowhere.

Just when we were beginning to find the cadence, the rear lever gave way with a dry snap. The box door came loose. We could get out.

There was a second of silence. We both heard it. We both knew what it meant.

—Don’t stop —I said.

Sebastián’s face went up in flames. He thrust harder. Every удар of his hip against mine echoed in the empty box. His testicles bounced against my body each time he came all the way in, and my cock jerked on its own, spilling fluid over both of us.

—Your ass turns me on —he panted. —It’s so tight.

—Don’t apologize. I want to feel it all. All of it.

That finished him off. He started fucking me without minding the noise. In the empty hall of the warehouse, the sound of his body hitting mine echoed, the cuffs clanging against the glass, both of us moaning without shame. My feet freed themselves from the trap of his arms. I planted my heels against the wall behind his back and pushed too, setting a deeper rhythm.

—Sebas —I warned him—. Sebas, I can’t hold on.

—Neither can I. Neither can I.

One last thrust, longer, deeper, and I felt Sebastián’s whole body trembling against mine. His hot spurts filled me from within. My own cock jerked and spilled over his abdomen, his chest, his chin. We were both soaked, panting, neck muscles taut and hearts pounding against the glass walls.

We looked at each other. There was embarrassment, but also complicity. Without saying anything, we separated. The back door had been open for a long time. We got out of the box, removed the cuffs with the keys that were kept in the director’s room, and went into the showers without speaking.

***

When I came back to the dressing room, I found Sebastián dressed, hair combed, sitting on the bench with his bag at his feet.

—Tomorrow at the show —I told him— we’re going to get out of the box faster, right?

He laughed. I watched him laugh, and I laughed too. That laugh helped us let go of what was left of the tension and tuck, into some nameless corner, the silent decision to stay and rehearse again. Alone. After everyone else had gone.