What We Did When My Best Friend Fell Asleep

The bluish glow of the screen cast long shadows across the living room of Adrián's apartment. It was one of those Friday nights in Barcelona that had become a habit: warm beer, a show nobody was really watching, and the feeling that time was stretching in a dangerous way.

Sara was sprawled on the large sofa, her head resting on Rubén's chest, her bare feet propped on the armrest. Rubén had one hand buried in her brown hair and the other around his beer can. He looked comfortable, relaxed, the way he always did.

Adrián was in the armchair, half-sunken into it, his glasses slipping to the tip of his nose. He pretended to watch the show. In reality, he had spent two hours counting his own heartbeats every time Rubén laughed under his breath.

The problem wasn't that Rubén was his best friend's boyfriend. The problem was that Rubén was Rubén: tall, broad-shouldered, with a close-cropped beard and that unhurried way of moving, as if he knew no room was ever going to escape him. A thirty-two-year-old architect with a calm that Adrián had initially found enviable, and that now seemed almost obscene to him.

I shouldn't be thinking this. Not again.

Sara stretched, yawned, and got up from the sofa.

—Guys, I'm falling asleep. I have the seven o'clock shift tomorrow —she said, scratching the back of her neck—. Rubén, are you staying a while or coming up?

—I'll be up in a minute —he answered, without quite looking at her—. I'm going to finish my beer.

She gave him a quick kiss on the mouth and another to Adrián's crown, as she always did. The bedroom door closed with a soft click. In the hallway, the light switch clicked. And then, silence.

Adrián felt the air thicken. Rubén hadn't turned his face back toward the television. He was looking at him.

—Come here —Rubén said, patting the space Sara had left on the sofa.

Adrián laughed awkwardly. He tried to make it sound natural.

—I'm fine here, man.

—Come here —Rubén repeated. His voice was lower, firmer. It wasn't a request.

Adrián got up from the armchair as if his body weighed twice as much. He crossed the two meters separating them and sat on the sofa, leaving a prudent gap. Rubén set his beer on the floor and turned toward him, one arm resting along the back.

—You haven't looked me in the face for six months —Rubén said—. And for the past two, you haven't even answered Sara's messages about getting together.

—I've been busy —Adrián muttered.

—You haven't been busy. You're avoiding me.

Silence. Adrián could feel his ears burning. Rubén leaned a little closer.

—And I've spent that same amount of time thinking about you every fucking day —Rubén said, very slowly—. So either you tell me I'm crazy and I go upstairs with Sara right now, or we stop pretending.

Adrián lifted his face. Rubén's eyes were dark and steady, with no trace of doubt in them. The word Sara pierced his chest like a needle. He opened his mouth to say something sensible, to tell him to go upstairs, forget it, that it was a mistake.

—You're not crazy —he said instead.

***

Rubén closed the distance between them with one hand on the back of Adrián's neck and his mouth on Adrián's, hard, without asking anything else. He tasted of beer and rough stubble. Adrián stopped thinking. He grabbed Rubén's T-shirt with both hands and kissed him back, with his teeth, with his tongue, with all the rage and hunger that had built up over months.

Rubén shoved him back against the sofa. He climbed on top of him, one knee between Adrián's legs, and bit his lower lip until he moaned.

—Keep your voice down —Rubén whispered against his mouth—. Sara's asleep upstairs.

—Fuck her —Adrián answered, surprising himself. He had never spoken like that before.

Rubén laughed softly, hoarsely, and bit his neck. Adrián felt his cock stiffen inside his jeans before either of Rubén's hands had gone anywhere near it. Rubén noticed. He squeezed the bulge through the fabric, unhurriedly, measuring Adrián's breathing.

—You're hard as a rock —Rubén said, with a note of pleased surprise—. How long have you been like this?

—Since the first time I saw you at that party —Adrián confessed, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

—Fuck —Rubén muttered, and yanked open his jeans. He pulled the zipper down with his teeth.

Adrián lifted his hips to help him. The jeans and briefs came off together and ended up tangled around his ankles. His cock sprang stiff against his stomach, already wet at the tip. Rubén stared at it for a second, and that look was almost worse than a bite. Then he bent down and took it all into his mouth without warning.

Adrián bit his fist to keep from screaming. Rubén's mouth was hot and tight, descending to the base without difficulty, as if he had been practicing for years. He rose slowly, sucking, and went down again. Adrián felt the tip brush the back of his throat. He placed a hand on Rubén's neck, in his short hair, and Rubén moaned around his cock, a low sound that vibrated in his balls.

—Stop, stop —Adrián gasped after a minute—. If you keep that up, I'm going to come right now.

Rubén pulled his cock from his mouth with a wet pop and smiled up at him from below, his chin gleaming.

—Not yet —he said—. Stand up.

He took off his own T-shirt first, in one pull. Beneath it was a broad torso, his chest covered in dark hair, a trail descending straight to his jeans. Adrián pulled off his own shirt too, his hands clumsy. He felt thin and pale beside him, and suddenly he didn't care.

Rubén unbuttoned his pants without taking his eyes off Adrián. When his cock sprang free, thick and curving upward, Adrián exhaled sharply. He dropped to his knees on the floor without being asked and took it into his mouth.

It was heavy, salty, filling all the available space. Adrián sucked him as if he had been rehearsing it for years, because maybe he had. He gagged twice, and Rubén stroked his hair without pushing, letting him set the pace. Then he took Adrián's head in both hands and fucked his mouth slowly, until Adrián felt spit running down his chin and tears gathering in his eyes.

—Fuck, you look so beautiful like that —Rubén murmured, looking down at him.

Adrián pulled Rubén's cock from his mouth, panting, and licked his balls. Rubén hissed and grabbed the back of the sofa.

—Okay, okay —Rubén said—. On the sofa. Get on all fours.

Adrián obeyed without thinking. He climbed onto the sofa, ass in the air, elbows sinking into the cushion where Sara's head had rested half an hour earlier. The thought of that, instead of stopping him, made him even harder.

Rubén rummaged through the pants lying on the floor and took out a little packet.

—You carry a condom with you? —Adrián asked, still panting—. Were you prepared, you bastard?

—I was going to tell you how I felt tonight, no matter how it ended —Rubén answered, tearing it open with his teeth—. I figured I'd bring one just in case.

He put on the condom. Adrián didn't see where he found the Vaseline, but suddenly felt two cold, slippery fingers against his ass. Rubén moved them slowly, circling, pressing against the entrance without going in yet.

—Have you done this before? —he asked, his voice hoarse.

—Yes. With guys, not like with you girls.

—Good —Rubén said, and pushed one finger all the way inside.

Adrián moaned into the cushion. Rubén added another a little later, searching for something, scissoring them to open him up. When he brushed Adrián's prostate, Adrián jerked and let out a moan that was far too loud.

—Shhh —Rubén whispered, his fingers still inside him—. Sara doesn't sleep that deeply.

Adrián bit his knuckle. Rubén pulled his fingers out, gripped Adrián's hips with both hands, and pressed the tip of his cock against his ass. He pushed in slowly, millimeter by millimeter. Adrián felt the stretch, the good burn, and breathed through his mouth.

—Hold on —Rubén murmured, halfway inside—. Hold on.

—Put it all the way in —Adrián begged, his voice breaking—. All at once.

Rubén didn't make him wait. He dropped his hips hard and sank in to the balls. Adrián let out a muffled moan into the cushion, half pain and half pleasure, and felt Rubén trembling behind him, holding himself back.

—God —Rubén panted—. You're tighter than you can imagine.

He started moving. At first slowly, almost tenderly, pulling all the way out and entering again. Then faster, deeper, setting the rhythm with his hands on Adrián's hips. The sofa creaked. Adrián gripped the back with white knuckles and began thrusting his ass backward, meeting every stroke.

—Yes, like that —Rubén growled—. Fuck yourself on it too.

Adrián's cock hung between his thighs, dripping, rubbing against the cushion every time Rubén thrust. Rubén noticed, lowered one hand, and grabbed it. He started jerking him off in time with the fucking, his rough palm squeezing the tip every couple of strokes.

—I'm going to come —Adrián warned, panting into the cushion.

—Come —Rubén ordered, driving into him again to the hilt—. Come for me.

Adrián came with a moan he barely managed to swallow. He felt the hot spurts splatter against the cushion, Rubén's hand, and his own stomach. His ass clenched around Rubén's cock in spasms, and Rubén grunted under his breath.

—Fuck, fuck, fuck —Rubén muttered, speeding up.

He gripped Adrián's hips with both hands and fucked him with short, hard thrusts, pelvis slamming against ass, until he gave a tight groan through clenched teeth and came inside him. Adrián felt the cock pulsing inside him, a hot throb even through the condom. Rubén remained draped over his back, breathing heavily, his beard scratching Adrián's shoulder.

***

They stayed like that for a while. Outside, a car passed along the street. Upstairs, not a sound.

—Fuck —Adrián said when he could speak.

—Fuck —Rubén repeated.

He pulled out carefully. He tied off the condom and tossed it into the wastebasket beside the sofa, with the practiced aim of someone who had done it many times. He dropped down beside Adrián, on the same cushion where Sara had been. Adrián turned onto his side and looked at him.

—What now? —he asked.

Rubén took a while to answer. He ran his thumb over Adrián's lip, with a tenderness that hurt him more than everything that had come before.

—Now I go upstairs, sleep with her, and look her in the face tomorrow —Rubén said quietly—. And you and I talk on Monday.

—Talk about what?

—About how we do this, or how we end it. But we're not deciding now, at three in the morning, with your come still on my hand.

Adrián nodded. Rubén stood, pulled on his jeans without his briefs, and put his T-shirt on backward. He bent down and gave him one last kiss, long and unhurried. Then he went into the hallway, switched off the living-room light from the doorway, and climbed the stairs barefoot, clothes wrinkled, toward the bedroom where his girlfriend slept without suspecting a thing.

Adrián remained sprawled on the sofa, naked, Rubén's scent still on his skin. He ran a hand over his chest and felt his own come drying there. He looked up at the ceiling, toward the bedroom above, and thought he had crossed a line there was no going back from. Then he thought he didn't care.

He closed his eyes. Monday was far away, and until then he could still feel Rubén inside him.