Chapter 6: Chapter 6
The glow from his phone screen was the only light in the basement bedroom. Jose lay on his back, the distant sounds of his family finally winding down upstairs, and stared at the cascade of messages.
David: Back. Quiet here. Too quiet.
Jose: Miss the chaos already?
David: Miss the way you looked, trying to explain to your tía what a graphic designer does. Miss the taste of the rum on your lips. Miss the weight of you against me in your room. All of it.
Jose’s breath caught. David’s words, in person, were sparing. In the dark, behind the screen, he was a poet.
Jose: I wanted to drag you into my laundry room all night. Or the pantry. Anywhere.
David: Thought about it. The pantry. Had a whole scenario. You, against the shelves, a bag of rice digging into your back. Me, on my knees.
Heat flashed through Jose, sudden and intense. He typed back, his thumbs clumsy.
Jose: You can’t say things like that when I’m alone in my bed.
David: Why not? I’m alone in mine. It’s only fair. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. 6:30. Save you the bus.
Jose: My knight in a shining Camry.
David: Sharp. We’ve got that early delivery in Crestwood.
Jose: See you at 6.30 sharp.
The next morning, the sky was a deep, pre-dawn indigo when David’s car pulled up. Jose jogged out, the cold air biting through his hoodie. He slid into the passenger seat, bringing with him the rich, dark aroma of coffee and something savory.
“For you,” Jose said, handing David a travel mug and a foil-wrapped bundle. “Cuban coffee, lethal. And a breakfast wrap. Chorizo, egg, potato. Mama made them.”
David accepted them, his fingers brushing Jose’s. “She didn’t have to.”
“She absolutely had to. She also said,” Jose continued, buckling his seatbelt and fixing David with a look, “to make sure I kissed you well for picking me up.”
David took a slow sip of the coffee, his eyes never leaving Jose’s. He swallowed. “It would be a shame to disappoint your mother.”
Jose leaned across the center console. He didn’t just kiss him; he claimed David’s mouth, a deep, searching kiss that tasted of coffee and mint and want. He pulled back, breathless. “There. Mission accomplished.”
“Mm.” David’s hand came up, thumb stroking Jose’s lower lip. “But what about my mission?”
“What’s that?”
“Getting more than my tongue inside you.” David’s voice was a low rumble. “Haven’t stopped thinking about your pussy since Saturday.” He shifted, and the straining bulge in his work pants was unmistakable.
Jose’s pulse kicked. He reached over, palming David through the rough fabric, feeling the hard, thick line of him. “I’ll help with that,” he murmured, squeezing gently. “As soon as I can.”
David sucked in a sharp breath, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “Work first.”
“Work first,” Jose agreed, reluctantly pulling his hand back, the phantom heat lingering on his palm.
At the warehouse, they were a study in professional efficiency. They loaded the van with a silent, practiced rhythm, securing the new mattress and frame for the Crestwood job, hefting the tools. On the road, the city just beginning to wake, David broke the comfortable silence. “I know it’s only been a week. But this… it’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”
Jose watched streetlights sweep across David’s profile. “Me neither.”
“It’s easier, though, right? After last night? Knowing…”
“Knowing my entire extended family is planning our wedding? Yeah.” Jose smiled. “It’s easier. And harder. I feel more… stable. About us. Which is why it sucks.”
David shot him a sideways look, one eyebrow raised.
“No, not in that way,” Jose laughed, shoving his shoulder. “It just sucks bad. Being apart now feels like a design flaw.”
David’s mouth quirked. “You definitely don’t know how to suck bad. That’s one thing I’m sure of.”
Jose giggled, the sound bright in the quiet cab. “I’ll have to remind you. In the back of the van later.”
A low growl vibrated in David’s throat. He drove for another minute, the tension between them shifting from playful to something more profound. Then he asked, blunt and clear as breaking glass, “Would you move in with me?”
Jose blinked. The question hung in the air, simple and enormous.
David rushed on, his usual composure fraying. “It doesn’t have to be permanent. Just a trial. If it works, we could consider getting a bigger place, if we need? I just… I want to come home with you. Not to texts.”
“Yes,” Jose said.
David glanced at him, then back at the road. “That’s it? It’s that easy?”
“Yes,” Jose said again, a grin spreading across his face. “I am that easy.”
They laughed together, the sound easing the monumental weight of the question. “I can pack a bag after work,” Jose said, feeling giddy. “But just as long as you know, once my family finds out where you live, there’ll be cousins wanting you to show them how to build those big muscles, uncles needing you to help move things, and my mother will bring food over every other day if we don’t visit regularly. It’ll be an invasion.”
“Sounds perfect,” David said, his voice soft.
“You say that now.”
The Crestwood delivery was a rushed, tense affair. The customer, a woman in a sharp suit, tap-tapped her heel on the hardwood the entire time, her phone glued to her ear. “Yes, I took the morning off, but I really need to be downtown like, ten minutes ago,” she snapped at no one in particular.
They worked like a single organism, dismantling the old bed, maneuvering the new frame with silent, urgent coordination. They spread the new mattress, positioned the foundation, all under the woman’s impatient gaze. It was a relief when she signed the receipt with a flourish, barked a thank you, locked her front door, and sped away in her sedan.
“Nice lady,” Jose muttered, hefting one end of the old, bulky frame.
“A delight,” David grunted, taking the other end.
They loaded the discarded bed into the van’s rear, the metal frame clanging against the floor. The morning sun was properly up now, warm on their backs. Jose shoved the final section in, then turned and pulled the rolling shutter down with a definitive, metallic clack, shutting them in.
The sound echoed in the quiet suburban driveway.
Jose turned back to David. The professional mask was gone. David stood there, watching him, his t-shirt damp with sweat at the collar, his arms streaked with a fine dust from the old bed.
Jose stepped close, into his space. He smelled of coffee, warm skin, and hard work. He looked up, his expression all false innocence.
“So,” Jose said, his voice dropping to a murmur. “You mentioned something about the quality of my sucking?”
David didn’t answer with words. He crushed his mouth to Jose’s, a kiss that was all heat and possession. His hands were already at Jose’s waist, fisting in the fabric of his shirt. “Prove it,” he breathed, the command ragged against Jose’s lips.
He guided Jose backwards until his knees hit the stacked mattress bulk. The dim, enclosed space of the van was suddenly everything, a cocoon of dust motes and their shared, rapid breath. Jose went down willingly, the rough floorboard grating through his jeans. He looked up, his heart hammering against his ribs. David loomed above him, his expression stark with need.
“Use me,” Jose said, the words syllables of pure want. He leaned forward, nuzzling the hard line straining against David’s work pants. “Please.”
David’s fingers shook slightly as he worked his belt buckle, the rasp of the zipper loud. He freed himself, thick and flushed, and cradled Jose’s jaw. “You tell me. Any time. Too much, too rough, you pinch the back of my leg.” His thumb brushed Jose’s lower lip.
“I will. I promise.” Jose opened his mouth, his tongue meeting the hot, salty skin. David’s head fell back with a choked groan.
Then David took control. His grip shifted to cup the back of Jose’s head, not forcing, but guiding, holding him in place. He pushed in, a slow, deliberate invasion that made Jose’s eyes water. He pulled back, then slid in again, setting a deep, relentless rhythm. “Take it,” David murmured, his voice thick. “Take all of me. God, your mouth is perfect.”
With his other hand, David grabbed the collar of Jose’s t-shirt and pulled his hips back, then roughly pulled it over his head. The cool van air pebbled Jose’s skin. “Touch yourself,” David instructed, his thrusts becoming more deliberate, each one burying himself to the hilt. “Play with your tits. Show me.”
Jose moaned around the fullness in his mouth, the vibration pulling a broken curse from David. Jose brought his own hands to his chest, his thick fingers finding his nipples, pinching and rolling them as David fucked his face. Spit gathered, overflowing past his stretched lips, trailing in warm, slick lines down his chin and onto his exposed chest.
“Look at that,” David panted, his rhythm never faltering. “Look at you. So fucking filthy. Making a mess of yourself for me.” Jose rubbed the wetness into his own skin, smearing it over his soft chest, the obscene sight pulling a continuous stream of praise from David. “Yeah. Just like that. Rub it in. Claim it.”
The pace quickened, David’s hips snapping forward with more urgency. The sounds were obscene–wet, sucking noises, David’s ragged grunts, the creak of the van floor. Jose let himself be used, wholly, completely, relishing the scrape of teeth, the deep stretch, the total submission. He gazed up, meeting David’s blazing dark eyes, and saw his own reflection–loved, wanted, devoured.
David’s control shattered. “Jose… I’m gonna–” The warning was a guttural snarl. He held himself deep, and Jose felt the hot, pulsing release flood his throat. He swallowed, again and again, until David, trembling, carefully slid out.
For a second, they just stayed there, connected by the string of saliva that broke and landed on Jose’s chin. Then David hauled him up, turning him, pulling Jose’s back flush against his chest. He sat on the edge of the mattresses, Jose in his lap.
David’s hand, still slick, dove into Jose’s jeans, wrapping around his aching cock. The other hand palmed his chest, fingers finding a nipple and twisting. “Come for me,” David whispered into his ear, his teeth grazing the lobe. “Paint this van. Mark it.”
The twin sensations were too much, too perfect. Jose cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound, as his orgasm ripped through him. His release shot across the corrugated metal of the van’s interior shutter in white, chaotic stripes. He sagged back against David, spent and shaking.
They collapsed together onto the makeshift mattress pile, a tangle of limbs and messed clothes. David’s arms were a vice around him. Jose could feel the frantic beat of David’s heart against his spine, slowing gradually into a heavy, satisfied rhythm.
Jose turned in his arms, finding his mouth for a slow, deeply sated kiss. Jose knew David was tasting himself, salty and sharp, on his tongue. “Wow,” he managed to breathe.
David chuckled, a low, rich sound of contentment. He gestured at the cum on the shutter, the spit drying on Jose’s chest, their disheveled state. “We clearly need to keep a change of clothes with us at all times.”
The three deliveries that followed passed in a haze of comfortable silence and shared, secret smiles. His muscles ached, but it was good physical work. Their last stop was a tidy, single-story house at the end of a cul-de-sac.
“Final one. Ken. Retired army. Motorized bed,” David read from the tablet, turning off the engine.
Ken answered the door in his wheelchair. He was probably in his late fifties, with a stern, lined face and shoulders that still carried impressive bulk beneath his faded green t-shirt. His eyes, a sharp flint-grey, scanned them with immediate, assessing skepticism. “You’re the bed guys? Took you long enough.”
“Scheduled for four, sir. It’s three-fifty,” David said, his voice neutral and professional.
“Hmph. Well, get on with it. It’s in here.”
The bedroom still needed to be cleared, so the two men made quick work of it, pushing the now-dismantled old, heavy-looking bed frame to one side. The new motorized base was a beast, all steel and heavy gears in a large box. “This one’s a two-man lift, minimum,” David said, slicing the box open. “We’ll get the old one out first.”
Ken watched from the doorway, his arms crossed. He offered no conversation, only curt directions about where the outlets were, how close to the window he wanted it. Jose, however, had a lifetime of softening tough, proud men. He caught Ken’s eye as he strained to lift one end of the old frame.
“This thing’s a tank, sir. You sleep alright on it, or was it more for defensive purposes?” Jose asked, grinning through the effort.
A flicker of something crossed Ken’s face. Not a smile, but the thawing of permafrost. “It was here when I moved in. Served about as well as a condemned tank, yeah.”
They bantered about the poor design, then about the manuals that were clearly written by aliens. Jose asked a question about the motorized features, and Ken, explaining the lumbar support mechanism, slowly lost the gruff edge in his voice. He started to look at Jose not as a service worker, but as a person. David noticed. He saw the way Ken’s eyes lingered on the curve of Jose’s back as he bent over the new base, on the soft swell of his stomach where his t-shirt pulled up.
The installation took over an hour, complicated and physical. Throughout, David watched Ken watching Jose. The interest wasn’t lecherous. It was hungry, lonely, and utterly captivated.
Finally, it was done. They helped Ken transfer onto the new bed, showed him the remote, watched him test the rise and fall. A genuine, almost shy smile broke through his stern features. “Well. That’s something else. Thanks, boys.”
“All part of the service,” Jose said, wiping his brow. He began gathering their tools, carrying armfuls out to the van.
David lingered. He stepped closer to the bed, where Ken was still admiring the quiet hum of the motor. “Sir,” David said, his voice dropping. “Ken. Can I ask you something? Just between us.”
Ken’s eyes snapped to his, the guard instantly back up. “What?”
David didn’t flinch. He nodded slightly towards the front door, where Jose’s whistling could be faintly heard. “I noticed you looking. At my partner.”
Ken’s face flushed a deep, mottled red. “I don’t know what you’re–”
“It’s okay,” David said, his tone calm, unjudging. “I’m just making sure my instincts are right. You were looking. With appreciation.”
Ken stared at him, his jaw working. The hope and shame in his eyes were a painful cocktail. He looked down at his useless legs, then back at David. His voice, when it came, was graveled with defeat. “Haven’t been looked at like that by anyone. Not since the IED. And him… he’s… yeah.” He couldn’t finish.
David nodded again. “We might be able to help with that. If you’re interested. No strings. Just… human contact.”
Ken’s eyes went wide. He searched David’s face for malice, for mockery, finding none. He gave one, tight, almost imperceptible nod.
David met Jose by the front door. Ken was in the living room, pretending to look at a magazine, his entire body radiating nervous tension.
“What was that about?” Jose asked, voice low.
“Hope you don’t mind,” David said, “but I noticed him checking you out. Hard.”
Jose immediately shook his head, a blush rising. “No, man, he was just–”
David cut him off gently. “I asked him. Point blank. My instincts were right.” He paused, watching Jose’s face. “He hasn’t had sex, hasn’t been touched, in years. Not since he was wounded. I thought… maybe we could help him out.”
Jose’s protest died on his lips. He looked past David, into the living room at the proud, broken man. Understanding dawned, followed by a wave of that deep, innate empathy that defined him. “Help how?”
David’s lips curved. “He wants to suck on those tiddies.”
A slow, wickedly excited smile spread across Jose’s face. It was an expression of power, of generous curiosity. “What are you going to do?” Jose asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“What do you want me to do?” David matched his tone, his own interest alight.
Jose’s smile turned downright devilish. “Suck his dick. He must really need it.”
David just nodded. He walked back into the living room. “Ken? We’ve got a few minutes. You mind if we… stay a bit longer?”
What followed was not graceful, but it was profoundly human. Ken’s initial stiffness melted under Jose’s gentle, commanding touch. Jose knelt on the couch, then straddled Ken’s lap, his soft weight a comfort, not a burden. He pulled his own shirt off, offering his chest.
“Go on,” Jose murmured. “They’re right here.”
Ken made a sound like a man dying of thirst finding water. He leaned forward, his strong arms coming around Jose’s back, and took a nipple into his mouth. He suckled, then laved, then devoured, groaning as his hands moved over the soft flesh of Jose’s sides and belly.
“Yeah, just like that,” Jose sighed, arching into it, his fingers carding through Ken’s short, grey hair. “Get your fill.”
David knelt on the floor in front of Ken’s chair. He carefully unfastened the man’s pants, freeing a thick, surprisingly long cock that was already leaking. Ken gasped against Jose’s skin as David’s mouth descended, taking just the head with a new-found, wet enthusiasm.
The room filled with the sounds of them. Ken’s broken, grateful cries muffled against Jose’s chest. David’s hungry, wet slurps. Jose’s low, encouraging moans. “He’s got a beautiful mouth, doesn’t he?” Jose whispered to Ken. “Feels so good. Let go for us.”
Ken was babbling, a stream of “yes” and “please” and “oh god.” David worked him with his mouth and hand, his eyes locked on the sight of this rugged man coming utterly apart in Jose’s generous embrace. Jose rocked against him, the friction through his jeans adding a sinful counterpoint.
“I’m close, I’m gonna–” Ken choked out.
“Do it,” Jose urged, holding him tighter. “Give it to him.”
David quickened his stroke. Ken’s orgasm tore through him with a shout that was half-sob. His release shot over David’s fist, painting hot, thick stripes across the small of Jose’s back, the warmth seeping through Jose’s jeans.
They stayed there, frozen in the humid, charged quiet for a long moment—Jose straddling Ken, David on his knees, all three connected, breathing heavily. Ken’s face was buried in Jose’s chest, his shoulders shaking silently. Jose held him, rubbing his back, until the tremors subsided.
Slowly, tenderly, they disentangled. They helped Ken get cleaned up and comfortable, their touches now purely practical, but infused with a quiet respect. No one spoke much. Words weren't needed.
At the door, Ken looked at them, his eyes clear and glistening. He didn’t say thank you. He simply looked at them, really looked, and gave a slow, dignified nod. It said everything. "We'll see you again," said David as the two men retreated from the house.
Back in the van, the silence was different. It was vast, thoughtful, humming with the aftermath of an unexpected gift given and received. Jose finally leaned his head against the passenger window, watching the world blur past.
“You good?” David asked, his voice rough.
Jose turned to look at him. He saw no jealousy, no regret—only a deep, settled knowing. “Yeah,” Jose said, and it was the truth. “That was… I feel good. Helped something.”
David reached across, took his hand, and laced their fingers together. “We did.” He drove, the city lights beginning to wink on in the dusk. “You ready to pack that bag and give me all your attention?”
“Tonight,” Jose said, squeezing his hand. “I’m all yours tonight.”