Rafael takes his coffee the same way every morning: black, two packets of Splenda, in front of his giant kitchen window, with a side of hot, naked neighbor.
Rafael…he is not proud. He is not proud that he actually rushes to get his coffee ready and the newspaper set up so he doesn’t miss any bit of the action from across the alley. He is not proud that he’s eavesdropping on a private part of the stranger’s morning. He is not proud that watching his hot neighbor get dressed is the highlight of his day.
Coming to that sad realization, Rafael almost hides in his kitchen to drink the coffee instead. First of all, it’s creepy. It’s creepy right? To watch his neighbor dress? But…surely the man must know the show he’s putting on by dressing in front of a window. Surely the man must know someone on the streets of New York likes what they see.
Second, he’s never met the man. He would never be bold enough to approach the man if they met on the street. Rafael is a courageous man, his head is held high and he walks with the sort of swagger like he owns every damn place he walks into. But when it comes to this man, this stranger…he would never be able to say anything.
And what would he say?
Hey, I’m the creep who watches you change every morning?
The grey suit you wore two weeks ago was incredibly sexy?
Your ass was sculpted by gods?
And oh god, here he comes. Fresh out of the shower, wild hair curling from the humidity of the bathroom, water dripping down his chest, towel wrapped haphazardly around his waist.
Dios mio, Rafael thinks. The younger man is so gorgeous. He combs his hair back so it’s perfectly set before removing the towel to dab water from his chest and arms.
Rafael just watches, transfixed, as the young man slips on his three piece suit before winking at Rafael and exiting the room.
Rafael’s black coffee with two packets of Splenda goes cold beside him.