I heard him roaring behind me, rough, uncontrolled moans, the sound of a man who'd lost everything else, who only existed to own me. The rhythm picked up, his hips slamming against my ass with a force that made the bed creak and my heart crack a little more.
And then he came.
I felt the first spurt invade my ass with violence. Hot, thick, almost boiling. It sent shivers through everything inside me, like it was scorching the inner walls and branding every inch of me. Then more came, thick jets that overflowed, trickling slowly down my ass, running down my thighs in hot, sticky trails that slicked up my whole skin.
It wasn't just cum. It was him. All of him spilling out over me, marking his territory with every drop. Like he was saying, without words: "You're mine. Always have been. Always will be."
My body gave out completely. My legs lost all strength. I collapsed face-down on the bed, limp, my heart pounding like it wanted to escape my chest, my breathing ragged and uneven, hot tears streaming down my face without me even noticing when they started.
I was totally fucked. All his. And deep down, totally broken inside.
I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head. Rodrigo was already getting dressed. Quiet, looking sad and unsatisfied.
"You leaving?" I asked, still lying there, my voice weak and hoarse.
"I think I'm the one outta place here," he replied, not meeting my eyes, his voice low and heavy with a sadness that stabbed right through me like a knife.
I sat up slowly, my legs shaky and trembling under the weight of my body and the guilt that was starting to pile on. I went over to him.
"Stay... please. You know I adore you, right?" I said, looking straight into his eyes, begging with my gaze as much as my words.
He didn't answer. Just stared at me for a long second, his eyes shining with something I didn't want to name.
I moved closer slowly, and pressed my lips to his in a soft, gentle peck, almost pleading, like that touch could fix what I'd broken.
"Stay... please. I'm asking," I insisted softly, my voice shaking. And I meant it because I really liked him. Because even after all that, he still mattered.
And that's when, get this, even Diego chimed in.
"Stay, man. She's your girlfriend... if anyone's the extra one here, it's me," he said, half-laughing, half-serious, letting out a short chuckle that tried to lighten the heavy air but only made the silence after it thicker.
Rodrigo took a deep breath and gave a slight nod. It looked like a yes, and that was enough. But deep down, nothing was settled.
And that little nod was all it took. A small, almost imperceptible gesture, but it lifted the weight I didn't even know was crushing my chest.
Right then, a massive thirst hit me. My body was still burning, skin hot, blood racing too fast through my veins. I asked, trying to sound casual:
"You guys want anything? Hungry? Thirsty?"
Only Diego answered, in that lazy, bossy way of his:
"A cold Coke would hit the spot."
I went to the kitchen. Grabbed the soda bottle, three glasses with plenty of ice, and tossed some packs of filled cookies onto an improvised tray. The cold from the floor crept up my bare feet, contrasting with the heat still throbbing in my gut. Every step made my thighs rub together, reminding me of what had just gone down in there.
When I got back to the room, the two of them were sitting on the bed. Sitting. Laughing about something. The air felt lighter, shoulders less tense. Diego sprawled against the headboard, Rodrigo with his legs crossed, the two of them chatting like nothing had happened. Like they hadn't just shared my body minutes ago.
I thought: "Good. At least it's loosening up." And I felt real relief, the kind that opens up your chest a bit, lets the air in easier.
Diego saw me come in and hit me with his usual sharp tongue:
"Fuck, Rafa... your boyfriend just told me he's a Vasco fan."
He burst into a loud, over-the-top laugh, the kind he used to fill any awkward silence. Slapping his thigh, eyes gleaming with pure mockery.
"For real, man? Vasco?" he repeated, turning to Rodrigo with a dramatic face, like he'd uncovered the scandal of the century.
"Come on, Diego... give the guy a break," I said, laughing, and chucked a pillow at him hard. He threw up his arm to block it, laughing even harder, proud of his own jab.
Rodrigo just shook his head slowly, that shy little smile on his lips. The smile of someone who knows he's gonna get teased forever, but deep down doesn't care. Or pretends not to.
We sat there on the bed, the three of us sipping cold Coke, the fizz tickling our throats, the chill sliding down slow. Sharing the filled cookies, crumbs falling on the messed-up sheets, the sweet chocolate smell mixing with the heavy air in the room. Talking dumb shit: soccer, some stupid show on TV, an old joke nobody really laughed at but we all pretended was funny. It was like we were trying to rebuild a normal that never really existed.
But then I glanced at the clock. My parents were due any minute. Time had flown without me noticing.
I walked them to the gate. The goodbye was quick: short hugs, a light kiss on Rodrigo's cheek, a slap on Diego's shoulder, and they headed out walking side by side, talking low, and I watched till they disappeared around the corner.
I went back to the room alone and shut the door.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared at nothing, my head too heavy to piece together everything that had happened. The smell of man still filled the whole room: their sweat stuck to my skin, mixed colognes, the cloying sweetness of spilled Coke on the floor. I tried to sort my thoughts, but they slipped away, out of reach.
I thought about bolting to my cousins' house, like I always did when my chest tightened and I needed to hide from myself. But I didn't have the strength. I stayed. Took a quick shower, hot water running over my marked skin, washing away the sweat and dried stickiness, but not what clung inside.
I slipped on a nightgown and lay down. Turned off the light and tried to close my eyes.
And then it all came rushing back, slow, uninvited. My body relived every bit: Rodrigo's hand on my waist, firm and tender at once, Diego's hoarse voice spitting those words that cut and burned, the weight of their bodies on me, the moans blending together, the looks that said everything without a single sentence. Every touch throbbed on my skin, like it was still happening right now.
Pleasure and guilt tangled up without me able to pull them apart, desire and fear twisted so tight I couldn't yank one thread without disturbing the other. Maybe that's all it was: the fear of having liked it too much mixed with the guilt of loving every second of that madness.
Because in the dark silence of the room, with my heart pounding hard, I already knew: after that afternoon, I wasn't the same anymore. Something had broken. Or maybe something had been born.
And I still didn't know which one scared me more.
**