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Emilio nuzzled his nose against Diego’s face. “Dime. Tell me. What would you like,guapo.”
“To date my roommate.” Wow, that was not what he had meant to say.
Emilio let out a startled laugh. “Pues, that is very obvious. But what would you like from me while we wait for him to come back?”
Diego groaned. “His coming back isn’t going to help with the dating thing. We’re business partners. It would be all kinds of problematic, and risky, and—”
“And those are stupid reasons not to fuck your very cute roommate,” Emilio said laughing jovially again.
Diego groaned and buried his face in Emilio’s neck. He smelled like clean sweat and something familiar, maybe a spice or a type of cologne that reminded Diego of home. His family wasn’t Peruvian, his mother was from Colombia and his father was from Mexico, but the smell was something sweet and familiar.
“Are you… smelling me or trying to kiss me?” Emilio asked. He tilted his head to give Diego further access to his neck.
Diego should have felt embarrassed, but he just couldn’t muster it. He nudged Emilio’s side. Emilio deposited his beer on the coffee table and slowly turned to lie down on the couch. Diego climbed on top of him, straddling his hips and running his hands up the soft expanse of his stomach, to his well-defined pecs and even more defined shoulders. Then, hit by a wave of sadness and an ache for a different set of shoulders he knew all too well, Diego slumped forward and curled up on Emilio’s chest.
“Oh,mi amigo,love is hard, or so I hear,” he murmured. Diego loved the way the vibrations rolled through him, shaking loose some of the stress in his back and shoulders.
“It really fucking is… I should just be able to… to climb on top of you and ride you like a horse. Instead, I’m—”
“¿Acurrucado y triste?” Emilio said affectionately wrapping his strong arms around Diego’s back. Snuggling and sad. The story of Diego’s life. He dropped his head against Emilio’s collarbone and he began to stroke Diego's hair gently.
“Lo siento,Em,” Diego murmured, and Emilio tipped his chin up and kissed him softly on the mouth.
“Nothing to be sorry for,mi amigo. This is enough.”
God, Diego missed this. It was almost magical connecting with another human being like this. Small gestures and soft touches communicating feelings Diego had been trying to push down for weeks.
In the past, Emilio had run the gamut from tender to rough in bed, but when they weren’t having sex, he was always gentle and kind. It was so tempting to let himself have this – to revel in not having to introduce someone new to his body, the way he liked to be touched and spoken about, and all of the other idiosyncrasies Emilio knew, in two languages no less!
But, as he lay there, he realized everything, all of the stress and anxiety and even dysphoria that came with introducing himself to a new lover would be worth it… for Frankie.
They lay together for a while, alternating between chatting, and peacefully cuddling. Diego didn’t let it go any farther and Emilio didn’t push. Instead, he told Diego funny stories about the merger he was orchestrating with his family’s tour company and another. Diego told him about some of the Peruvian recipes Frankie was trying out as well as the Peruvian coffee they planned to stock after their launch. Emilio offered to send him his mother’s recipes forguargüeros, and just the thought of the tender, dulce de leche filled cookies had Diego’s mouthwatering, but he admitted he wasn’t sure if Frankie would accept a recipe he knew came from Emilio.
Emilio laughed, and slowly sat up, signaling their snuggle and catch-up time was coming to an end. “Well, maybe he will change his mind when he comes back to see me gone.”
Diego let out a huff and stood up to clear away their beer bottles. “And why would that change his mind?”
“No, Diego, youwould change his mind. Tell him that we did nothing, that wearenothing, but that you and hecouldbe something.”
Diego shook his head sadly and walked Emilio out to the front. They shared one last lingering kiss before Emilio bid him goodbye and promised to email him the recipe.
Diego paced around the empty cafe for a while, pulling out his phone, putting away his phone, and then pulling it out again. He finally went upstairs and got ready for bed, removing his packer, and changing into a pair of comfy sweats and a too-big t-shirt. He tried to lie down, but he was still too riled up, so he paced around the apartment doing the same song and dance with his phone until he finally texted Frankie:He’s gone. You can come home.
Diego stayed up for another hour waiting for either a response or some sort of miracle like Frankie’s returning and jumping into his arms, but when neither happened, he trudged back to his room, changed, and faceplanted on his bed.
He was finally dozing off to sleep when he heard the front door open.
He rushed into the living room to see a bedraggled Frankie struggling to lock the door. He looked over his shoulder at Diego and then turned back to the door. He jiggled the handle of their sometimes finicky door, and when that didn’t work, he pressed his forehead against the wood and sighed. His back was so tense, Diego could see some of the individual muscles through his thin t-shirt. All of the constant moving of furniture and boxes of supplies was melting away the extra fat on both of their bodies. Diego had never been thin, even before he transitioned, but he was finally putting on some extra muscle. Frankie was putting on a little muscle mass as well.
With his eyes, Diego traced the curve of Frankie's ribs and then followed the angle of his spine up to the taut chords in his neck. Before Diego could stop himself, he went to Frankie, running his fingers over the tight muscles in his shoulder, encouraging him to turn around and look at him.
“Frankie, it’s not what it looked like.”
Frankie turned fully into his arms and before he even knew what was happening, they were kissing. Frankie’s lips were bitten raw, and Diego tasted salt on his lips like maybe he’d been crying.
“Franklin,” Diego tried again, murmuring the words against his lips, holding his shoulders at bay so he could try to speak. “Mi cora—”
Frankie interrupted him with another kiss and a pained noise in the back of his throat. “If you’re going to say anything other thanmi novioormi quesarito,please just… just don’t.”
