Chapter 7: Chapter 7
The silence after leaving Ken’s felt sacred, like the quiet after a prayer. Jose watched the streetlights paint gold stripes across David’s knuckles on the steering wheel. He didn’t need to speak. The shared act had woven a new thread between them, something strong and unbreakable.
They returned the van to the warehouse in a companionable quiet, the paperwork done with tired efficiency. Instead of heading towards David’s apartment, David turned the Camry in the opposite direction.
“Where are we going?” Jose asked.
“Your place,” David said, a small smile playing on his lips. “To get your things. If you’re still coming.”
“Oh.” The reality of it hit Jose then, a warm, thrilling spike in his chest. “Yeah. I’m still coming.”
David got a bigger and more excited greeting than Jose.
The moment they stepped into the Ramirez kitchen, Elena practically launched herself at David, crushing him in a hug that smelled of oregano and cumin. “Mijo! You brought him back in one piece! Come, sit, you must be starving.”
Carlos gave Jose a hearty clap on the shoulder before turning to David, shaking his hand with a firm, approving grip. “David. Good to see you. Jose hasn’t stopped talking about you.”
“He has not,” Elena confirmed, already piling a plate with leftover pernil. “He talked through the dishes, he talked through my novela, he talked to the cat. It was all ‘David this’ and ‘David that’. My ears are tired.”
Jose felt his face burn. “I did not!”
David just grinned, letting himself be steered to a chair. “It’s nice to be talked about.”
Over the food, Jose laid it out. “Mami, Papi… David asked me to move in with him. For a trial run. See how it goes.”
The reaction was instantaneous. Elena clasped her hands together, her eyes shining. Carlos beamed.
“This is wonderful!” Elena exclaimed, immediately turning her full attention to David. “You are taking such good care of him. You have a good job, a steady head. I saw it in you.” She pinched his cheek. Carlos nodded along, focusing his congratulations squarely on David.
“Smart move,” Carlos said. “Get him out of the basement. Good for you both.”
Jose rolled his eyes, laughing. “Hey! I’m right here.”
“We see you, mijo,” Elena said, waving a dismissive hand before turning back to David. “Now, you give me your address. And your phone number. The good one, not the work one. You are family now.” She produced a pen and a scrap of paper from a drawer with frightening speed.
Jose groaned. “Mami, please do not just turn up unannounced. You might not like what you walk in on.”
Carlos barked a laugh. “Good luck with that.”
Elena waved them all off, scribbling David’s details. “Ah, the constant sex never lasts that long, but home cooking is always necessary. You will need my food to keep your strength up.” She said it with such clinical certainty that David choked on his water, a deep blush creeping up his neck.
Once the interrogation was complete and David’s information was securely stored in Elena’s phone under “DAVID ❤️”, Jose led him downstairs to his basement rooms. The space felt smaller now, like a shell he was ready to shed.
He pulled a duffel bag from the closet and started tossing in clothes. David wandered, looking at the faded superhero posters, the shelves crowded with meticulously posed action figures, the stack of well-read graphic novels.
“Bring some of this,” David said, picking up a posed Homelander action figure.
“What? No, your place is so… clean. It’ll clutter it up.”
David turned to him, his expression serious. “It’s your place now, too. At least, I want it to be. Bring the things you love.” He pointed. “That blanket on your bed. Your gaming PC. A couple of those figures. The one that looks angry with the big gun.”
“That’s Bloodshot,” Jose said, smiling.
“Bring Bloodshot. It’s important we don’t lose touch with the things we enjoyed before we met. We have all the time in the world for sex.” He said it so plainly, so firmly, that Jose’s heart squeezed. This wasn’t just about lust; this was David building a home for them.
So Jose packed more thoughtfully. His favorite hoodie, the soft one with the torn pocket. His gaming PC, cables coiled neatly. The woven blanket in greens and blues his abuela had made him years ago. He carefully placed Bloodshot and two others on top.
When they hauled everything upstairs, the Camry’s trunk and back seat were full. Elena pressed two heavy grocery bags into David’s hands—containers of rice, beans, stewed chicken, platanos. Carlos pulled David aside, speaking in a low voice. “You lift all those mattresses, you must know some good exercises for the back. For the core. You’ll show me sometime, yes?”
David, to his credit, just nodded solemnly. “Absolutely, Carlos.”
Finally, they escaped.
David’s apartment was a study in calm. Sleek lines, cool white walls, polished hardwood floors that gleamed in the late afternoon light. The air held a faint, clean scent of citrus and cedar. A massive floor-to-ceiling window framed the city as dusk began to bleed into the skyline, painting everything in soft gold and deep blue.
They carried Jose’s life inside in quiet, efficient trips. They didn’t talk much, just worked in sync, finding space for his things. Jose’s blanket looked brilliantly out of place draped over David’s minimalist grey sofa, and he loved it.
When the last of it was inside, David closed the door. The lock clicked with finality.
He turned, leaning back against the door, and looked at Jose. His eyes were dark, intent. “Okay,” he said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet apartment. “I am willing to do absolutely anything you want tonight. But I need one thing first.”
“What?” Jose asked, already knowing.
“I need you naked. As soon as humanly possible.”
A thrill shot through Jose. He walked over, stopping just inches from David. “As much as I want to try other things,” he said, hooking his fingers into the waistband of David’s jeans, “I desperately need you inside me again. First.”
David’s smile was slow and deeply satisfied. He leaned down, capturing Jose’s mouth in a kiss that was all heat and promise. “I am very happy with that,” he murmured against Jose’s lips. “But you said ‘other things’. What other things?”
Jose’s courage, bolstered by the day, by the move, by the look in David’s eyes, didn’t waver. He kept his gaze steady. “I’ve been wondering,” he said, his voice dropping. “If you might be up for… bottoming? No worries at all if that’s not your thing. Just a thought.”
The relief that washed over David’s face was palpable. He let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for weeks. “I was worried you wouldn’t be interested in topping,” he admitted, his hands coming up to frame Jose’s face. “I want that. I’ve wanted it. You make it look like an amazing experience.”
“It is,” Jose whispered, kissing him again. “With you.”
They decided to wait for the weekend for that exploration, to have time, to go slowly. Tonight was about reunion, about claiming this new space together. Jose soon disappeared into the pristine bathroom to douche, the running water a mundane soundtrack to the evening’s anticipation. David moved around the kitchen, pulling out a small wooden box and carefully rolling two joints, his movements precise and practiced.
David moved around the kitchen, pulling out a small wooden box and carefully rolling two joints, his movements precise and practiced. The soft rustle of paper, the earthy scent of cannabis, it was all part of the ritual. He heard the bathroom door click open.
Jose returned to the living room, naked, his face flushed with excitement and the steam from the shower. Water droplets still clung to the dark hair on his chest and the gentle curve of his stomach. He walked towards David without a shred of hesitation, his body moving with a newfound ownership that made David’s breath stick in his throat.
David watched him, the joint forgotten for a second. He traced the line of Jose’s shoulders, the soft swell of his pecs, the way his hips swayed. He saw the jiggle of his thighs, the fullness of his ass, every curve a revelation under the warm, low light. David’s eyes darkened, his desire a physical weight in his gut. He flicked the lighter, the flame catching, and took a slow, deep hit. He held the smoke, then offered the joint to Jose as he closed the final gap between them.
“Hey,” Jose said, his voice a little husky. He took the joint, his fingers brushing David’s.
“Hey yourself.” David exhaled, the smoke curling between them. He kept his clothes on, a deliberate contrast, wanting to focus entirely on Jose. As Jose took a hit, David’s hands came up to rest on his hips, his thumbs stroking the soft skin there.
They passed the joint back and forth in silence, the weed softening the edges of the room, amplifying every touch. David’s hands began to move, worshipping the landscape of Jose’s body. He palmed the generous curve of his ass, kneaded the flesh there. He slid his hands up Jose’s sides, feeling the slight give of his waist, then cupped the full, heavy weight of his chest. His thumbs brushed over Jose’s nipples, feeling them peak instantly under his touch.
“I need you to know something,” David murmured, his voice thick. He looked up, meeting Jose’s hazy gaze. “I truly need you to know how beautiful you are. To me. To Ken, back there, who looked at you like you were water in a desert. To the guys who check you out on the street now that you’re not hiding behind layers of fabric armor. You are a fucking vision.”
Jose took a final drag, then stubbed the joint out in a glass ashtray on the coffee table. He let the smoke drift from his lips, a slow, soft sigh. The weed hummed in his veins, melting the last icy shards of insecurity. “I’m starting to get it,” he said, a wonder in his voice. “And I’ll prove it.”
He took David’s hand and guided him down to sit on the floor, his back against the sofa. Jose tilted David’s head back to rest on the cushion, positioning him just so. Then he stepped over him, his back to David’s face, and slowly, deliberately, lowered himself. David’s tongue was out and ready, a hot, wet point of contact before Jose even made it all the way down.
The first intimate touch was a lightning bolt. Jose gasped, his hands coming back to brace himself on David’s thighs. David didn’t just lick; he feasted. He started with broad, slow strokes, tasting the clean, soapy skin, learning the topography. Then his tongue narrowed, probing, seeking entrance with a relentless, worshipful patience.
Jose’s head fell back. This was different. This was giving himself over completely, yet holding all the power. He controlled the pressure, the angle, the depth, by the subtle shift of his hips. A soft moan escaped him as David’s tongue circled his rim, then pressed insistently inside. The sensation was overwhelmingly intimate, a deep, curling heat that spread from his core. David was learning him—that a firmer, pointed pressure here made his thighs tremble, that a fluttering lick there drew a broken gasp from his throat.
He was learning he could control this, too. He could clench around the invading tip of David’s tongue, and David would groan into him, his hands gripping Jose’s hips tighter. He could rock back, taking more, and David would follow, devoted, relentless. It was an exchange of trust so absolute it felt like flying. The pleasure built, a steady, coiling tension that made his legs begin to quiver with fatigue and bliss.
“Bedroom,” Jose breathed, his voice ragged. “Now.”
He climbed off, his legs wobbly, and pulled David up. In the bedroom, with the city lights glittering beyond the glass, Jose pushed David onto the edge of the mattress. He undressed him slowly, peeling away the layers until David was as naked as he was. Jose spent a long moment just looking, his hands skating over the defined planes of David’s chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, the powerful sweep of his thighs.
“If you blow me,” David warned, his cock jerking against his stomach, “I’m gonna cum fast. I’m too close.”
Jose just smiled, a sly, confident thing. He guided David to lay back fully on the bed, then straddled his hips. He took David’s hard length in his hand, slicked it with the spit still on his fingers from the joint, and positioned himself. He sank down in one slow, excruciatingly perfect motion, sheathing David completely inside him.
David cried out, his back arching. “Fuck, Jose.”
Jose set the pace. A slow, rolling grind of his hips, taking David deep. He rode him, his own cock bobbing, leaking onto David’s stomach. He watched David’s face, learned the signs—the clenched jaw, the frantic pulse in his throat. When David’s breathing hitched, when his hands fisted in the sheets, Jose would stop. He’d lift himself almost all the way off, hovering, letting David feel the cool air on his wet tip.
“Please,” David begged, mindless.
Jose sank down again, but this time he focused on the muscles inside him. He clenched tight, a firm, rhythmic pulsing around David’s shaft, then released, drawing a sobbing groan from David’s chest. He wasn’t just riding up and down; he was working him from the inside, a subtle, devastating control. David’s hands roamed over his body, worshipping the softness of his belly, squeezing the flesh of his hips, but they always returned to his chest. David thumbed his nipples, pinched them, his touch reverent and desperate.
The dual sensations were too much. Jose’s own cock was a hard, leaking line of need. David saw it, and without breaking Jose’s rhythm, wrapped a slick fist around it. He just held it, letting Jose’s movements fuck into his tight grip.
The coordination of it, the sheer overwhelming feedback of pleasure, tore Jose apart. His climax ripped through him with a shout, his cum streaking David’s chest and his own stomach in hot pulses. The intense, rhythmic clenching of his hole was the final trigger. David’s eyes rolled back, a guttural sound tearing from his throat as he came, his release flooding deep inside Jose.
Jose collapsed forward, careful, catching his weight on his hands. They were both slick with sweat and come, breathing in ragged unison. David’s hands, trembling, came up to cradle Jose’s face.
“That was…” David panted, searching for words. “You are… incredible. The control, the way you moved… fuck, Jose.” He kissed him, deep and slow. “I have never felt anything like that. You owned me. Completely. Thank you.”
He kept whispering it, praises and love against Jose’s skin, as their heartbeats slowly found a shared, steady rhythm in the dark.