Work Text:
Two
2
It’s the first time since he's arrived in Los Angeles that Brock goes out at night and he goes out alone.
It’s not that unusual for him to go out alone to a gay club or bar on Saturday night and look to meet someone, but until a couple of weeks ago he knew everyone from the bouncer to the bartenders to the usual crowd. He’d been part of the gay scene for so long that people looked familiar at least, and even if he went out alone, he knew he would run into someone he knew. Then he moved.
Here in Los Angeles everything is different and unfamiliar. Brock sits at the bar alone and so far has dodged two very open requests for a quick fuck in the bathroom. It’s not what he’s here for, not anymore. It might not be the best place, but he hopes that in a room full of gay men, there will be someone he likes, who is looking for something of more substance and longevity.
Each time Brock thinks about dating and a possible relationship, the face of the elevator hottie, as Steve has named him, shows up in his mind. He has such a cute smile and there’s always some kind of spark in his eyes that makes Brock's heart beat faster. Brock doesn’t know if it’s mischief or cheekiness, but it’s always there in his expression and it fascinates Brock.
He still hasn’t found out his name, workplace or if he’s even gay, but that doesn’t stop Brock from thinking about the elevator hottie throughout the day, or during the night – or while being in a gay club, nursing his drink alone at the bar.
After a while the barkeeper strikes up a conversation with him and keeps the drinks coming. Brock debates dancing, but he is positive that as soon as he’d step out onto the dance floor alone, someone would rub against him, push his junk up against his ass or grind down on him. He doesn’t judge and has done it himself before, but it’s not what he wants at the moment.
When the bar gets really busy and his only source of conversation has to actually work, Brock turns around on his stool and watches the crowd, but is careful not to look at anyone for too long.
It’s funny how even here in L.A. you can make out the different types of people in a club, that never seem to differ. The dressed up gays that walk the dance floor alone and try to find a fuck for the night. The ones who look around with a slight panic in their eyes and hold on to their drinks too tightly, either because it’s their first time at a gay club like this or because they are officially straight and most likely married. The ones who are very comfortable, chat a bit here and there and seem to know everyone because they are here a couple of times a week are the regulars. And then there are the groups, who just come to have fun, either with their boyfriends or with other gay friends. They are loud and usually drunk.
One group on the other side of the dance floor catches his attention. There’s a man there who is the same height, has the same skin tone, the same built, same hair color… it can’t be… can it? Brock's heart does that thing again where it speeds up and his stomach feels all fluttery at the mere possibility of the elevator hottie being here.
Brock watches as they move onto the dance floor, their drinks spilling over the rims of their cups, not that they seem to care as they start to move. Moves they certainly have, the one in question in particular. The way he twerks and shakes his ass should be illegal, no matter who he is. Brock gets half hard just watching this guy dance. Does it matter if it's the elevator guy? Maybe he should try and hook up with him even if he's not?
When the man turns around and crouches down, just to come back up a second later, Brock gasps; it really is the elevator hottie. If Brock ever needed any confirmation that he’s gay, he has it now. He's as beautiful as always and Brock just knows that he will smell just as amazing as he does every morning in the elevator.
This is his chance, Brock knows. He has to know if he stands a chance with the guy. He leaves his drink at the bar, knowing he won’t come back to it no matter what and then dances out into the crowd. Brock quickly wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and tries to push his nervousness down. Brock keeps it very mild and sways a bit to the music as he moves in the right direction, so he can accidentally bump into his crush. He giggles, when he realizes how juvenile this move is, but he doesn’t have any other idea at the moment. Just walking over and introducing himself would be awkward after all those weeks in silence every morning. And Brock’s not willing to gamble and wait for the off-chance that he will glance his way and come to him. He’s done with that.
When Brock has finally reached the group, he dances with his back towards them, not sure which one of them is standing behind him at the moment.
The beat gets louder, the crowd goes crazy for the song and Brock finally turns around. There’s a small, cute, black guy with curly hair dancing in front of him but when he looks straight ahead, Brock meets two twinkling brown eyes, who widen in surprise, before they start smiling at him, like they do each morning.
Brock smiles as well and tries to look surprised. His crush doesn’t seem to believe him though, seems to snort and starts laughing. Then he walks towards him, sassy expression on his face , wraps his arms around Brock’s waist and starts dancing with him, much slower and more closely than the song really calls for. They keep the eye contact as they dance and grind and do all the things Brock didn’t want to do earlier. He really wants to do them now.
It’s only natural that some time into the next song when their eyes meet again, their lips meet. Brock tries to keep his eyes open when their tongues touch and he pulls the smaller man even closer.
They make out right there on the dance floor in the middle of sweaty bodies surrounding them and slamming into them or they slam into the others as they stumble blindly through the dim room. Their way ends up with Brock being pressed against the wall as elevator hottie kisses him senseless, his hands on his ass and in his hair, angling his head. Brock wonders if he should stop this for a second, just to make it clear that he’s not a bottom, an info that seems needed the way his ass gets kneaded and fondled through his jeans. The idea flies from his head when their crotches touch again. They’re basically fucking each other against the wall with their clothes still on, yet Brock doesn’t want to stop it – not that he could. He’s completely overwhelmed by the smaller man and the way he kisses, tastes, feels and smells. It’s even better than he imagined.
Brock’s very close to coming in his pants, hopes that this is just the start of the night for them, when Brock suddenly remembers that he doesn’t even know the name of the other man. He can’t call him elevator hottie while they are fucking, can he? And asking him the next morning, in a ‘by the way’ kind of way would be very awkward.
So Brock places a hand on his chest and slowly pushes him backwards, following him with a his head for a moment, so their lips and tongues won’t have to separate just yet. Brock would keep kissing him all night, if this wasn't so important to him.
”What’s your name?” Brock yells over the loud music of the club, panting hard. Cutie wrinkles his forehead and cocks his head to the side, then gestures up in the air and points to his ears, Brock curses quietly and tries to dig his cellphone out of his pocket, which is difficult, because the hottie’s arms are still wrapped around him, his mouth back to sucking on his neck and Brock’s still painfully hard and straining against his jeans, which doesn’t exactly create space to work with.
‘What’s your name?’ Brock types and shows it to the smaller man.
‘Jose. You?’ Comes the typed reply.
‘I’m Brock’
Jose smiles and types again for a moment longer. ‘Nice 2 meet ya. Gimme a call sometime. Number saved under Jose elevator’ Brock reads the message as soon as his phone is handed back to him. When he looks up, Jose smirks, smooches him one more time, the kiss messy and wet, then purses his lips and walks off into the crowd with a long glance back and that sassy expression on his face, that makes Brock even harder in his pants.
”You fucking tease.” Brock laughs and watches him go. It’s also the first thing he texts him later, when he’s back at home in bed.
***
One
1
Brock is happy when after only three weeks at his new job, he’s managed to implement a steady work routine; one that gives him time for not getting up too early, not working too late and therefore makes it possible to have a life outside of work. He’s able to workout again, meet friends or just relax in front of the tv. Brock could even date again, if he found someone worth his time.
He’s pretty sure all of his new colleagues are straight, even though none of them seem to have problem with him being gay.
Maybe it’s the start up character of the business or just the field they’re in. But as a company producing calendars, office devices and books that help create awareness and self-care, there seems to be no space for homophobic assholes. Instead Brock’s surrounded by vegans, yoga practitioners, happy go lucky personalities, social justice fighters and the occasional soft-hearted grump, who usually either works in accounting or IT.
Every morning, Brock gets up at seven and heads to the yoga class just around the corner of his apartment. Afterwards, he comes back and showers, then leaves and walks to the office building, buying breakfast on the way.
It’s usually the same people in the elevator: The small woman with the curly hair from the pet supply company. A man in his fifties, who looks like the director of something and always gets out first on the second floor. He could easily walk, but doesn’t. And ‘sexy guy’. Brock secretly named him after he seeing him the first time.
He’s cute, smaller than Brock – which is not unusual because he’s quite tall – has warm brown eyes, tan smooth skin and always accurately styled, dark hair. His whole outfit is always so on point and everything matches down to the necklaces, rings and earrings. Sometimes his tattoos show and sometimes they don’t. There’s a woman’s name tattooed on his arm and Brock wonders if that’s his wife or girlfriend. Or, if he’s really unlucky, his ex? Then again, Brock's gaydar goes off when he sees the guy and maybe the name belongs to someone else?
Brock always tries to stand close to him in the elevator, because he loves the cologne he uses. After two days of enjoying it, Brock makes a point of putting on cologne or aftershave as well.
The first day Brock sees him in the elevator, he catches glimpses of him out of the corner of his eyes. He wonders where he works, but Brock has to get out before him. So wherever he works, it’s higher up in the building.
After about a week of riding on the elevator together they sometimes nod at each other in recognition. To make it less obvious, Brock does the same with the other people in the elevator, but none of them make him as giddy as the sexy guy. Whenever he nods back at Brock, Brock can't keep the dopey smile off his face and his colleagues quickly catch on that there's something going on some mornings. Brock's in a very good mood then, while he's down whenever the sexy man isn't there or is blocked by someone else standing in front of him.
Another two weeks later they nod and smile. What a smile it is! Brock marvels at the cute dimple on his left cheek.
And Brock tries to find out which company he could work for. There’s a couple of lawyers in the building, but that doesn’t sound right. A company who produces software for special needs children, which he also can’t picture him working for. There’s also a fashion outlet with offices and a make-up company somewhere up there. These two sound more likely, the way he’s dressed.
”Why don’t you just ask him?” his friend Steve asks him when he discusses the possibilities with him for the fourth day on a row. Debating if he's working in make-up or fashion and which job he could have. Something creative? Certainly not accounting…
”I can’t just ask a complete stranger I only see once each day in the elevator ‘Oh, by the way, where’re you working?’”
”Why not? If he’s really gay it could be a good way to get talking. And if he’s not it’s innocent enough.”
”I don’t know,” Brock replies.
”Since when are you so shy? You were the biggest slut in town.”
”Yeah, exactly: were. I told you, I’m done with hookups and no strings attached. I want to take this new start here and find something that lasts.”
”Yeah, yeah, I know. You left New York and a job where you made a shitload of money for some small start up in L.A so you can find love.”
”Mock me all you want, I don’t care. I’m gonna find a man and settle down and I won’t be alone anymore.”
”Who knew you ho were such a romantic,” Steve laughs. ”But good for you. So the elevator hottie, he could be the one?”
”I don’t even know his name yet.” Brock chuckles and rolls his eyes at his best friend. Being the one is a lot of pressure and maybe Brock should try and find out his name and ask him out on a date first.
”Then find it out!”
”I will.” He promises Steve and himself as well, because he really knows that.
The next day waiting for the elevator Brock rehearses the words he’s come up with in his head. However, when he steps onto the elevator with the usual crowd, the person he looks for isn’t there.
For two weeks he’s gone and then he’s suddenly back again, looking better than ever and stuns Brock into silence. They nod at each other again; it takes another week until they’re back at smiling and nodding once more.
And then, one day when Brock reaches his floor and it’s just the two of them, he turns around when he's already out of the elevator and gives him a small wave and another smile. And the hot guy looks surprised at first, but then his eyes crinkle at the corner, he smiles and waves back much more enthusiastically than Brock did. Brock knows it’s his chance and opens his mouth, but then the doors close and once more the chance is gone.
***
Four
4
Brock is fifteen minutes early to their first real date, but he just couldn’t wait at home any longer. He tried, not to be that dork again, but ultimately failed.
Brock changed his outfit five times, cuddled the cats for a bit, texted his best friend and finally walked part of the way before he called an uber; all of it in an attempt not to be ridiculously early.
When Brock got to the restaurant he smoked a cigarette in hopes of calming down, paced a bit in front of it and finally, five minutes after their agreed-upon the, he want inside and asked if his date was already inside. He wasn’t.
So Brock was back to waiting outside, pacing a bit and smoking. Each cigarette followed by some gum, because he didn’t want to smell and taste like ash, for the slim chance that he would to get to kiss Jose again. Eight came and went and Brock checked his phone.
Until when, ten past eight, Jose’s finally here and Brock can’t even be angry or annoyed, because he’s juts so glad that they are both here, finally, on this date he’s waited for weeks and months.
”Hey, it’s good to see you,” Brock greets Jose, who smiles widely in return, but blushes a bit. They quickly hug, share a quick peck on the lips, what feels a bit awkward. The pressure of them all dressed up outside of this fancy restaurant seems to get to the both of them. ”Let’s go inside.”
Inside the posh Italian restaurant, they are guided to the table Brock has reserved. It’s outside on then patio, overlooking a large garden. It’s really romantic with the sun set in the background and the candle on the table.
”They even have fairy lights up. This is so cheesy,” Brock laughs and hides his face in his hands for a second. He wanted this to be a really romantic first date, because he likes Jose so much. But he’s afraid it’s a bit too much, if Jose isn’t into cheesy romance.
”The menus,” the waitress makes him look up again. As he takes one menu his eyes meet Jose’s who twinkle with amusement from across the table. ”Do you already know what you want to drink?” the waitress goes on, looking at the both of them.
”Some wine?” Brock asks Jose, who simply nods. ”Can you bring us a bottle of red wine, please? Maybe this one?” Brock asks her and points to the menu. He knows the wine, he just isn’t sure he wouldn’t bitch up the Italian name if he tried to pronounce it.
”Yes, of course.” She is gone again and they both open the large menus to see what they want to eat.
They waitress comes back once more with a basket with bread, some olives, ham and oil, before she returns and brings the ordered wine. She expertly uncorks the bottle and ours them each a glas of the dark red liquid.
”So, what would you like to eat?”
”I’ll take bruschetta as a side and the spaghetti vongole as the main course please.” Brock ells her and closes his menu. They both look expectantly at Jose. He seems unsure, but then seems to have made up his mind as he shows the waitress what he wants. Brock laughs and it makes him feel a bit better about the wine order and Jose returns his smile.
Once they are alone again, Brock raises his glass. ”To us finally being here on a date,” he toast and Jose softly clinks his glass against his. They sip their wine and for a moment Brock looks out into the garden, that’s illuminated in the near dark now.
”It’s so weird that the sun sets so fast here. Before, when I lived on the East coast it took much longer. Or at least it feels like it.” He muses. Jose watches him with a soft look, but doesn’t really react. Silence settles between them as they look at each other and for a while it’s comfortable. Until it isn’t anymore.
Jose’s smile is gone and he starts fiddling with the silverware.
”This is stupid.” Brock sighs and points between the two of them. Jose’s mouth drops open and his eyes go wide, before he seems to catch himself, bites his lip and looks down to the white table cloth.
Brock gets up, walks around the table and takes his chair with him. The table is wide enough and he doesn’t care if it looks stupid. It’s their first date and everyone else just has to suck it. He places his chair next to Jose’s, then picks up his napkin, silverware and glas and places it in front of him under Jose’s watchful eyes.
”There, better,” he decides and takes his cellphone out of his pocket. ”There’s something I wanted to show you anyway.” Jose places his hand on top of Brock’s arm as he leans closer to the screen. Again, he smells incredible and Brock really has to ask him what cologne he uses, once it won’t make him sound like a creep anymore.
Brock shows him the new coffee place around the corner of their office building and tells him about the special blend of coffee they have. Jose agrees that they absolutely have to check it out next time they meet for lunch or coffee. The waitress is a bit surprised by the new seating arrangements when she comes back with their food, but it’s not like they care.
***
Six
6
Watching Jose talk and joke with his friends is like watching a good play. He is so incredibly expressive and animated. Brock loves watching him. It makes his heart flutter and his cheeks hurt and eyes crinkle, because he smiles so much.
He’s sitting outside on the balcony, smokes and watches the lively discussion inside. He has no idea what they are talking about, but he can see Jose’s hands flying through the air, the way his face expresses every emotion and how his whole body shakes when he throws his head back and laughs.
Jose’s easily the most beautiful man he’s ever seen and the most beautiful person he's ever met. Jose has such a big heart, is incredibly funny and never boring. Every time they spend time together it feels like an adventure and Brock can never tell the outcome.
Also, Brock learns so much by seeing the world through Jose’s eyes. They come from completely different backgrounds, different cultures, still live in different worlds with different types of friends, different hobbies and work places, but Brock isn’t scared. He can’t wait to get to know Jose’s world more and more and hopefully become a part of it for a very long time.
They have been dating for a bit over five months, but already Brock doesn’t want to imagine a life without Jose. Brock came to L.A. looking for love and he's found Jose. And Jose’s everything Brock dreamed of.
Brock blows the smoke out into the night and sees Jose coming his way.
‘You’re ok?’ he asks him and runs his hands through Brock’s hair a moment later. Brock knows Jose likes doing that, pulling at his curls, messing his hair up completely. Brock enjoys the familiar touch, even though Jose never lets him reciprocate in public. Not that it's possible anyway with all the product Jose has in his hair to keep it styled perfectly, after blow-drying it each morning.
”Yes, of course. Just sneaked away to smoke.” He looks up at him and Jose kisses him, his teeth teasing Brock's lower lip.
‘You’re not bored out here on your own?’ Jose wants to know once he's pulled back.
”I’m good.” He assures him, but wraps his arms around Jose’s waist and pulls him closer. When he’s close enough, Brock rests his head against Jose's chest for a second. When he pulls back he stubs out his cigarette. ”You wanna stay for much longer?”
‘An hour or two? Is that ok?’
”Yes, sure. You’re staying at my place tonight?”
Jose smirks and nods, then leans down and kisses him again. Brock knows he must taste like cigarettes, but Jose doesn’t seem to mind as they start making out on the small balcony, Jose ending up in his lap.
After a while a paper ball hits the side of Brock’s face.
”Hey!” he complains and turns around, where he finds A’keria staring at him with both eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.
‘You’re coming or what?’ A’keria asks Jose, who rolls his eyes, pecks Brock’s lips again and walks back into the room. Halfway in, he stops and turns around again.
‘Half an hour’ he let’s Brock know, winks and then joins his friends again.
Brock watches once more, sees the laughter and the wild gestures of the man he knows he loves. But he hasn’t told him yet. He needs a bit more time to be able to tell him that.
***
Three
3
After their meeting and make-out session at the club, they text back and forth over the weekend and because Brock has a meeting in the morning and will be in much earlier than usual but skip lunch, they agree to meet for a coffee break in the afternoon.
Brock thinks it’s unbelievable how much they have in common, judging by the text messages they've exchanged. They both like the same movies and tv shows. They both like dancing and hanging out at the beach here in Los Angeles. They even favor the same coffee shop and live in the same area. It’s a wonder they haven’t run into each other much earlier outside of work.
The work meeting that seems endless takes Brock’s mind off the date for most of the morning, but when two o'clock comes around, he feels himself getting nervous again.
How should he greet Jose? They haven’t really spoken yet, only texted, but they have already made out and kissed A LOT. Hell, he nearly fucked him right beside the dance-floor.
He hurries out as soon as he dodges that one colleague, who has to ask a question that just cannot wait, when he’s halfway out the door.
Brock’s two minutes late when he gets to the coffee shop. Jose is already sitting at a table, his iced-coffee in front of him. Jose smiles and waves when he sees him and Brock is relieved when the awkwardness he felt before dissolves.
”I’m just getting my coffee,” he tells Jose loudly and points to the counter. Jose nods and smiles again.
They keep sneaking glances at each other as Brock orders and then waits for his drink. When he finally holds it in hands and makes his way over to Jose, he smiles even wider, warmth spreading through his chest. He’s waited months for this first date and the chance to finally get to know Jose.
”Hey, it’s so good to see you!” Brock greets him and gives him a quick hug. ”I nearly had to cancel when the meeting I was in, just wouldn’t stop,” Brock continues as he sits down at the small table and places his drink on it. ”You know these meetings that could be done in like an hour, but just go on and on without there really being a point?” When Brock looks at Jose, Jose has a strange look on his face. ”Or maybe you don’t, because maybe you don’t have meetings or something, like, I don’t even know what you do for work and I probably should’ve asked before, like…I wanted to but…” Brock rambles and only stops when Jose taps the back of his hand with his fingers and makes him look up. ”Mmh?” Brock looks at him when Jose remains silent and then takes a deep breath. Jose seems nervous all of a sudden.
Jose points to himself then to his ear, but that doesn’t matter at the moment, because Brock can read it from Jose’s lips, when he speaks the words without sound. ‘I’m deaf.’
Jose goes on, signing something, but Brock doesn’t get it. He’s never learned ASL and honestly, his mind is blown at the moment. Jose is deaf. But he was at the club, he danced, he works in the same building and… how are they gonna communicate?
Jose seems discouraged by Brock's silence or maybe angry, Brock can’t tell, but either way Jose looks upset and wants to get up. Brock stops him by placing a hand on his arm.
”Wait,” Brock tells him, ”Please.” Then he quickly gets up and hurries to the counter and asks the barista for a pen and some paper. With a smile he shows it to Jose and sits back down.
‘I didn’t know. I’m sorry I don’t know sign language’ Brock writes on the paper and shows it to Jose, who starts laughing.
‘You got the worst fucking handwriting and I have no idea what that says’ his reply reads and Brock has to laugh, too. Then Jose hands him his phone with the notepad app open and Brock types in the same sentence, he just wrote down on the paper. ‘And I know my handwriting sucks’ Brock adds.
‘You don’t mind?’ Jose writes back, his face showing the same surprise as his words.
‘I don’t mind if you don’t mind. You could teach me some sign language.’ Brock’s answer makes Jose smile widely.
‘If you speak slowly I can also read your lips.’
This makes Brock laugh. ‘Bet that comes in handy sometimes when you want to know what people are saying who don’t want to be overheard.’
‘Yup! But now these hos on tv and sports always cover their mouths, robbing us poor deaf people of our fun.’ Brock laughs again and moves closer to Jose.
‘You’ve always been deaf?’ he asks him, now really curious.
‘Yup, born this way, mama. I’m a capital D’
Brock does a double take, but that’s really what the text says. ‘A big dick?’ he can’t help but ask.
Jose nearly spits out his coffee when he reads it, then laughs loudly and squeezes Brock’s wrist tightly.
‘Capital D means that I’m deaf, always have been and live in that culture, ya know? Most of my friends are deaf, I went to a school for deaf kids, I work for a company with deaf colleagues creating software for deaf kids...’ Jose explains. ‘If you nice, maybe you’ll find out about the other D.’ Jose smirks as he hands Brock the phone, who starts laughing again.
They giggle together over their coffees and the messages on Jose’s phone. It feels like passing notes in class as teens and the messages get more flirty. Brock also asks how Jose can dance at the club and Jose explains to him, that he can feel the music, even though he doesn’t hear it.
”I really like you and I’d love to see you again,” Brock says slowly and looks Jose directly in the eyes, hoping he can read his lips, when their time is nearly up and they have to go back to work.
Jose smiles widely and rests his hand on top of Brock’s while he types with the other.
‘Like a date?’ Brock reads and nods his head. Jose’s smile gets even wider. A moment later Jose kisses Brock softly.
”That a yes?”
Jose nods his head, beams at him and raises his eyebrows.
‘I have to go now, because I have another meeting in ten minutes. I’ll text you later about that date?’ Brock types into Jose’s phone.
’Sounds great.’ Jose agrees and Brock steals another quick kiss.
‘How do you say 'Bye' in ASL?’ Brock asks Jose before he leaves.
Jose rolls his eyes, then simply waves and makes Brock chuckle again.
”That’s easy. See I’m already learning ASL and doing good,” he smirks and waves back. Jose laughs and follows him outside, signs something else.
"What does that mean?" Brock asks.
Jose types again and shows him the screen 'Dumbass' Brock reads and guffaws.
"So I'll know all the insults before you teach me something else?" they reach their office building and wait for the elevator.
'That's how you learn languages'. They step into the elevator. As soon as the doors close neither is interested in talking anymore and instead they get reacquainted with their lips until Brock has to leave. This whole coffee date was not what he expected, but he loved every second of it. Now he just has to come up with an idea for a first real date.
***
Seven
7
The flashing lights of the alarm clock wake Brock up and he groans, not ready to get up yet. He rolls over and wraps his arm around Jose’s waist and presses his lips to his neck as the front of his naked body presses against Jose's naked back. No matter how early it is when they have to get up, having his boyfriend there always makes it better.
Jose raises one arm without opening his eyes. ‘What time is it?’ he asks.
‘Seven. You wanted to join my at yoga today, remember?’ Brock signs and laughs when Jose groans loudly and pulls the comforter over his head. Brock quickly pulls it off, laughing about the way Jose’s hair stick up in every direction and his overall rumpled look.
‘I want to sleep’ Jose grumbles. Brock can tell the ‘tone of voice’ now by the way his man signs. He’s learned a lot over the last seven months. He’s by no means fluent in ASL, but he’s fluent in Jose and that’s even more important. Brock always understands what Jose’s saying, even when Brock might not always understand Jose’s friends.
”Come on, get up! Just last night you said you wanted to come so you’d be more flexible. You’re coming to yoga class with me.” Brock tells him when Jose is finally looking at him.
‘Fine, but you owe me!’ Jose finally gets up.
”What do I owe you?” Brock chuckles as he pulls Jose into the bathroom. He turns on the water and turns back around so he can see Jose’s answer. Jose already has his mouth full of toothpaste, but signs even with the toothbrush in hand.
‘A shower and sexy times after yoga, lunch, coffee in the afternoon so I won’t falls asleep at my desk. And you have to take me out to dinner tonight.’
”So you’re making me your slave for the day?” Brock laughs and picks up his own toothbrush.
‘Yes’ Jose smirks when he signs it.
”Asshole,” Brock rolls his eyes, pinches Jose’s nipple and starts brushing his own teeth.
Yoga class is a lot more fun with Jose there. The fact that they can talk while not disturbing the others because they are signing is amazing. Brock only hopes no one knows ASL as Jose’s comments get more and more dirty as the lesson continues. His boyfriend is already thinking of ways to include the poses into their sex life, which has Brock snorting with laughter more than once.
At the end of the class, he’s glad that they didn’t get thrown out because of his last laughing fit. They quickly get ready for work at home and take the second shower of the day. Usually Brock doesn’t shower before the class, but since they just fell asleep last night after sex, they still had to clean themselves up.
Jose gets his requested blowjob in the shower and they actually make it to work in time.
When they step into the elevator it’s empty and they make use of it by making out.
‘Don’t forget to bring me lunch’ Jose, still in a bratty mood, requests as they near Brock’s story.
”Knowing you, you’re gonna send me twenty messages reminding me,” he snarks back.
‘So?’ Jose smirks.
The elevator doors open and Brock has to get out. ‘I love you. See you later’ Brock signs and kisses his man one more time, blocking the doors with his body.
”Love you, too, babe,” Jose replies with a soft look, followed by another soft kiss. Then Brock leaves, a happy smile on his face. He can’t wait for lunch time to come around, so he gets to see Jose again. It’s part of their new routine together.
***
Five
5
It doesn’t happen the first time they have sex, or even the second or third. These first times are exciting as much as they are awkward, which is always true when you have sex for the first time with someone new.
You just don’t know yet what they like and they don’t know your body yet. You discover each other, explore and go by trial and error. With Jose that’s even more true, because Brock still doesn’t know ASL beyond the very basics and so Jose can’t tell Brock what he likes or doesn’t like. He has to pull and push him, guide his hand or shake his head. Still, they are good together right from there start; They have chemistry that’s off the charts and can laugh about themselves and their clumsy attempts at communication and sex.
Brock is surprised at first how bossy Jose can be in bed. Brock’s never been with anyone who took charge as much and has to laugh that he had fallen for the whole submissive bottom tale. Yet, during his hook-ups before the stereotype hadn’t been challenged.
They are in Jose’s bedroom, Jose riding Brock with his eyes closed and Brock’s hand wrapped around his dick. Brock knows how he likes to be stroked and touched at this point. Brock watches him, sees the pleasure on his face as Jose gets closer to climax, which brings Brock closer to the brink as well.
Suddenly Jose moans loudly once, then a second time. Brock comes immediately, the sound too exciting. Jose follows a couple of thrusts later and comes over Brock’s hand and stomach. Then he climbs off him and lies down next to Brock after wiping himself and Brock clean with a towel.
”You moaned.” Brock tells him after they shared another deep kiss. ”That’s the first time I heard your voice.”
‘Sorry’ Jose signs and hides his face in Brock’s shoulder.
Brock cups his cheek and makes him look at him, so he can see what he’s saying. ”Why are you apologising? I loved hearing your voice.”
Jose quickly grabs his phone off the nightstand and starts typing, so Brock knows the explanation will be longer and too complex to sign in a way that Brock would understand. Sometimes, he understands when Jose adds more gestures and facial expressions or points at things. But there are things that can’t be acted out.
‘As a kid I learned to speak at school, by mimicking sounds and shit. I can’t hear it but I must sound stupid ‘cause everyone was always laughing and mocking me at home. My cousin said I sound like a retard and my voice’s fucked up. And they never got what I was saying anyway, so I stopped trying to talk.’
”So you can speak?” Brock asks, weirdly proud of Jose, because it must be hard to learn words and form sounds you can’t hear.
‘Yeah, but I don’t want to. I’m sorry. I feel stupid doing it.’
”Don’t apologise, papi. I just really liked hearing your voice and I don’t want you to feel ashamed. You don't have to speak if you don't want to, ok? I didn't even know that you were able to speak, so…you know, I’m learning ASL and I’ll get there and we can really talk, ok? Even fighting will be easier when we don't have to text all the time.” Brock chuckles and so does Jose.
‘It’s fucking cute you learning ASL for me. No one’s ever tried.’ Jose smiles and kisses him, after Brock’s read the message.
”I’m trying, but it’s hard,” Brock chuckles about himself and his first few lessons. Who knew that sign language has grammar rules? And Brock’s always sucked at learning new languages. ”But I can sign my name now!” Brock reports proudly and sits up, so he can show his boyfriend. He hasn’t really shown Jose anything that he’s learned so far, scared he would fuck up and have Jose think he’s an idiot. However, he’d be a hypocrite for wanting Jose to use his voice sometimes, yearns to hear it actually, when he himself is too embarrassed to sign for Jose.
Jose watches him closely as he signs his own name, beams at him and kisses him.
‘Good job’ he lets him know.
”I know one more.” Brock goes on and signs ‘Jose’ slowly, then adds ‘my boyfriend’. He’s rewarded with enthusiastic kisses once again. He lies back down with Jose on top of him, holding Jose close as he runs his hands over his still naked body.
Jose breaks the kiss and smiles, before the look in his eyes becomes shy.
”Brock,” he says slowly, but clearly. Brock can’t believe that Jose’s just said his name out loud. He loves his voice and he loves that he’s using it just for him. So much so, that it brings tears to his eyes.
”You saying my name is perfect. Thank you,” he explains his tears and pulls him into another kiss, that quickly leads to round two. Jose doesn’t even try to stifle his moans anymore, his rough voice echoing through the room as he says Brock's name.
The end