The Neighbors Upstairs Weren’t the Only Ones

The couple who moved into the apartment upstairs arrived on a Thursday in March with a few boxes and a lot of noise. What Sofía and I didn’t know yet was that that noise was going to change more than one night for both of us.

Their names were Iván and Natalia. He was nearly six foot three, with a full beard and the kind of build that looks careless but is clearly the result of hours in the gym. She was petite and quick in her movements, with dark hair always tied back and a smile that appeared slowly, as if she hesitated before showing herself.

We saw them for the first time in the doorway, carrying furniture. Sofía greeted them before I could say anything, and they answered politely but without dragging the conversation out. They seemed like the kind of neighbors you always run into in the elevator but never really get to know.

During the first few weeks, that impression held. Exchanged glances, an occasional “good afternoon,” nothing more. They weren’t unfriendly, just reserved. Or at least that’s what we thought.

The first time we heard them was on a Friday evening. Sofía and I were in bed with a series playing in the background and a half-finished glass of wine when the noises started. At first we didn’t understand what it was. A dull creak. Then another. Then the unmistakable rhythm of a bed frame working hard.

—Jesus —Sofía said, covering her mouth with her hand so she wouldn’t laugh.

I turned the TV volume off. It wasn’t necessary: the sound coming through the ceiling was perfectly clear. The building’s walls are old, the kind of construction that doesn’t insulate a damn thing, and the apartment upstairs shared exactly the same layout as ours. Their bed was right above ours.

What we heard that night was explicit, long, and anything but discreet. She gave instructions out loud. He answered with rhythm, without words. At one point a voice came through that left no room for interpretation:

—Harder. Put it all the way in. Don’t stop, fuck, don’t stop.

Sofía looked at me. I looked at her. There was something in her eyes I recognized right away: it wasn’t discomfort. Her cheeks had gone red, and I could tell, without needing to touch her, that her breathing had quickened.

—Are we just going to sit here and listen? —she asked, though she was already setting her glass down on the nightstand.

—It’s not like I have a choice —I said—. Have you noticed it’s impossible not to hear them?

She smiled in that slow way of hers.

—I don’t mind it —she said, sliding her hand beneath the sheet without taking her eyes off me—. In fact, this is already making me wet.

***

What started as an absurd situation became something else within minutes. Sofía came toward me without hurry, as if she had all the time in the world, and when she kissed me there was no humor left in the situation. Only attention. She shoved her tongue into my mouth without asking permission, with that hunger she got when something had put her into overdrive, and bit my lower lip as she pulled away.

We’d been together for four years, and there were things that still worked exactly the same as at the beginning. The way she kissed me when she wanted something specific was one of them: deep, direct, with her hands on my face. There was no room for ambiguity. She grabbed my cock over the waistband of my pajama pants and squeezed, measuring it like someone confirming it was ready.

—You’re already hard —she murmured against my mouth—. The bastards got both of us worked up.

Sounds kept drifting down from the ceiling. Rhythm, friction, low instructions that sometimes rose in volume. It was like having a soundtrack we hadn’t asked for but that fit perfectly with what we were doing.

Sofía yanked my pants off and straddled my hips without taking off my T-shirt. She looked down at me with that expression she gets when she’s in control and knows it. She slipped her hand under her nightgown and I watched her rub her cunt slowly, with absolutely no shame, two fingers that quickly came out shining.

—What are you thinking about? —she asked, then ran those same fingers over my lips so I’d suck them.

—Them —I said, honestly, after licking her.

—Me too —she admitted—. About how he’s fucking her. About whether he’s as big as he seems.

She bent down and took my cock into her mouth without preamble. She swallowed it whole in one go, all the way to the back, and I felt the tip against her throat before she pulled back slowly. Sofía sucked like few things I’ve seen anyone do in my life: with concentration, with her hand at the base, setting the pace herself and not letting me move my hips. Every time she came up, she licked my head in slow circles before taking me back down. Every time she went down, she helped herself with her tongue and a muffled moan that vibrated in her mouth and went straight to my spine.

From the ceiling came a long moan. Then another.

Sofía didn’t stop. If anything, she sped up. She started sucking me faster, with more saliva, and using her hand on the part she couldn’t fit. With her other hand she grabbed my balls and squeezed just enough. I put my hand on the back of her neck and she let me guide her, this time for real. I fucked her mouth slowly, watching her, and she looked back at me with her gaze locked on mine, swallowing everything I gave her.

—Stop —I told her, when I felt I was getting too close—. Come here.

It took me a while to return the favor. I took my time with it. Sofía enjoys the process more than the destination, and I’d known for a long time that she liked it when I paid attention to every part before getting to where she needed me. So I did. I ripped off her nightgown, bit her tits, sucked her nipples until they turned hard and purple from how much I kept at them. I went down her stomach, unhurried, until I parted her thighs with my hands.

She was soaked. Her juices were running down the insides of her thighs. I ran my tongue over her whole cunt, bottom to top, and she arched her back with a moan she didn’t even try to hide.

—There —she said. And then—: Don’t move from there. Suck me like that, keep going, fuck.

I didn’t move. I licked her clit with the tip of my tongue, in circles, alternating with long sucks that made her clamp her thighs around my head. I slid two fingers into her and immediately felt how she closed around them. I moved them slowly, curling them, looking for that spot that drove her insane, all while still sucking her clit without giving her a break.

From the ceiling came the sound of something hitting the wall. A headboard, probably. The rhythm upstairs had become more urgent. And so had ours. Sofía grabbed my hair with both hands, setting the pace herself too, without an ounce of delicacy.

—Don’t make me come yet —she said, gasping—. I want you to fuck me. I want to feel it inside me when I come.

***

At one point she turned over and reached for something in the nightstand drawer. I knew what it was before she even took it out: a compact vibrator with an external stimulator, her favorite for nearly a year. We used it together often, and I’d learned that when she took it out without saying anything, it meant she wanted something specific.

She got on all fours and looked at me over her shoulder. Her ass was raised, her cunt open, shining with saliva and her own juices. She spread one cheek with a hand, showing me everything, with no trace of modesty.

—Today I want both —she said—. Fuck me like this, from behind, with the vibrator in front. I want to come twice.

It wasn’t the first time she’d asked me for that, but every time she did, it had the same effect on me: total, immediate focus. I came up behind her with my hands on her hips and started the way she knew I would: slowly, letting her body adjust, taking nothing for granted. I ran the head of my cock along the lips of her cunt, up and down, soaking them. I brushed her clit with the tip. She pushed back, impatient, searching for me.

—Don’t keep me waiting —she said.

She turned on the vibrator while I finished lining myself up. The soft hum of the motor joined the creaking from the ceiling, which hadn’t stopped, and the sounds of our bed.

When I entered her, I did it slowly. I opened her centimeter by centimeter, feeling how she stretched around me, how she clenched from the very first moment. She let out a sound that wasn’t quite a moan yet, more like recognition, and adjusted the angle of her hips to fit better. She pressed her forehead into the mattress and focused on her own pleasure, on the vibrator pressed against her clit while I fucked her from behind all the way in.

—Fuck me —she said, her voice muffled against the pillow—. Fuck me hard, Adrián, don’t hold back.

I did as she asked. I started moving with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and driving back in to the balls, and she responded by pushing her ass back every time I thrust forward. The sound was obscene: skin slapping against skin, the vibrator’s hum, her gasps, mine, the wet sound of my cock sliding in and out of her.

Within minutes the rhythm of everything in the room was the same: the ceiling above our heads, the bed beneath us, the constant hum of the motor. I grabbed her hair from the nape of her neck and pulled her back carefully. She lifted her torso halfway, arched, and I felt her cunt tightening around me.

—Like that —she moaned—. Like that, like that, like that.

I ran my free hand over the front of her, squeezed one breast, pinched her nipple. She moaned even louder.

Sofía suddenly lifted her head.

—Adrián —she said, urgently.

I didn’t stop. I kept fucking her with thrusts that got deeper and deeper, feeling her whole body tense, feeling the vibrator against her clit taking her to a place she wasn’t coming back from.

—More —she said—. Faster, harder, don’t stop.

And then, from the ceiling, came a voice I recognized as Natalia’s:

—I want it like that too! Fuck me the way he’s fucking her!

And in that instant we both understood what it meant. It wasn’t a coincidence. They had heard us. They’d been listening for a while, just like we had been listening to them.

Sofía let out a short laugh, immediately cut off by a completely different sound, because I hadn’t stopped and neither had the vibrator. The laugh turned into something else. And I, with my hands on her hips and feeling exactly what was happening, sped up.

—Let them hear us —I whispered in her ear as I drove into her all the way—. Let them know how your husband fucks you.

—Let them hear me come —she gasped—. I’m going to come, Adrián. I’m coming. Fuck, I’m coming, don’t stop.

What came next was almost simultaneous in ways neither of us had planned. Sofía first, with the way she comes that starts out silent and ends loudly, screaming without any control, squeezing me so hard from the inside she almost dragged me with her. I held on as long as I could, watching her shake beneath me, feeling her cunt contract around my cock in waves. When I couldn’t hold back any longer, I grabbed her by the hips and drove into her three or four times in a row, grinding my teeth, and came inside her with a groan I couldn’t stop. I emptied everything I had in long spurts, feeling her keep clenching around me while the vibrator kept buzzing between her legs.

And from the ceiling, almost at the same time, the sounds of a finish that didn’t need describing. A high moan from Natalia, a deep one from Iván, and then silence.

I slid out of her slowly. A thick trail followed me, dripping down her thigh. Sofía collapsed face down, wrecked, with the vibrator still in her hand.

We stayed silent for a moment, listening as the apartment upstairs settled down too.

—This is ridiculous —Sofía said, and started laughing.

—It is ridiculous —I agreed—. And it’s been the best thing this month.

She threw a pillow at me.

***

We fell asleep late. Before closing her eyes, Sofía said, almost in a whisper:

—We should invite them to dinner.

—That’s too soon —I said.

—Maybe —she replied—. But sooner or later.

I didn’t say anything else. But I didn’t agree with her about it being too soon, either.

***

The next day we ran into them in the elevator. Iván and Natalia stepped in looking like they’d slept late, just like us. During the four floors we rode down together, not a single word was said. The elevator was small, and the four of us stared exactly in the necessary directions so as not to look at each other too much.

When the doors opened in the lobby, Natalia turned toward us.

She smiled. A small, direct smile that needed no explanation.

Sofía returned it. So did I.

Iván pressed the lobby button without saying anything and left first. We went after him.

Out on the street, once we were apart, Sofía squeezed my arm.

—I like her —she said.

—You haven’t spoken to her for two minutes total —I said.

—Doesn’t matter —she replied—. I already know how she fucks. That’s enough for me to know whether I like her.

She was right. There were things that didn’t need conversation to be established. And what had been established the night before, through a few meters of old flooring and plaster, was something the four of us understood perfectly.

Dinner was only a matter of time.

***

Three weeks passed before we heard them again. Or before we let ourselves be heard again, because we weren’t exactly passive in the matter either. Sofía had become more expressive since that night, in a way that didn’t seem entirely accidental. She moaned louder. She asked me for things in a clear voice, sometimes shouting that I should fuck her harder, fill her cunt, not stop. And I indulged her, knowing perfectly well that there were two people upstairs hearing every word.

One Saturday afternoon we ran into them at the neighborhood market. Iván was choosing tomatoes with great concentration. Natalia looked up from her phone when she saw us.

—Neighbors —she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

—Neighbors —Sofía replied.

We spent ten minutes talking about completely ordinary things: the building’s heating, which never reached the upper floors properly, the street works on the main avenue, a restaurant they’d discovered near the park. Nothing we said had anything to do with what all four of us knew was hanging in the air.

When we said goodbye, Natalia said:

—You have to come to dinner sometime.

—We were thinking the same thing —Sofía said, with a naturalness that made me love her a little more.

—Next Friday —Iván suggested—. If that works for you.

It worked for us.

***

Dinner was on Friday. We went up with a bottle of red wine and the nerves anyone would have in a situation like that, though neither of us admitted it out loud.

The upstairs apartment was the exact mirror of ours, as we already knew. Same layout, same low ceilings, same windows facing the inner courtyard. But they’d decorated it differently, darker, with more books and less artificial light. There was something in the atmosphere that was comfortable and tense at the same time, the kind of tension that isn’t unpleasant.

Natalia cooked something simple and very good. Iván opened the wine and poured generously. We talked for hours about things that had nothing to do with what we were thinking: travel, work, a film all four of us had seen separately, a book Natalia recommended and Sofía promised to read that same week.

At one in the morning, with the second bottle nearly gone, Iván said without preamble:

—Last month we heard you.

He said it without smiling, directly, like someone putting relevant information on the table that shouldn’t be ignored.

—We heard you too —Sofía said, just as directly—. And not just that night.

Natalia nodded slowly.

—We know —she said—. We’ve heard you several times. And we liked it.

And in the silence that followed, the four of us looked at each other and understood exactly where the night had reached. There was no rush. No need. There was still a glass of wine half full on the table, and outside, the street was calm.

Sofía reached out and laid her hand over Natalia’s without saying anything.

Natalia didn’t pull away.