It was night when he heard a knock at the door. 

He opened his eyes. Outside the window, it was still dark. Had housekeeping already come at seven in the morning? But which hotel cleans at seven?

The knock came again.

José got up and rubbed his eyes. He looked out the window. Only one pedestrian crossed the street.

He walked to the door and pressed the switch to turn on the bathroom lights. The ambient lighting was blinding.

With a sharp motion, he opened the door.

His eyes widened.

He felt his pulse spike and his breath catch in his throat. It was like someone had thrown freezing water at his face.

Across from him, a short man pulled the hood of his dark blue jacket off his head.

Carlos looked at him, eyes wide, locking directly with José’s. And José felt like he was seeing far more than that. He felt Carlos’ light brown eyes, darkened by the night, penetrate straight into his soul. He felt that Carlos knew everything José wanted to say, every feeling he held, everything he’d kept hidden.

Six hours had passed since he had sent that message. And as if by divine intervention, as if living in a dream, there he was, right in front of him.

Carlos was breathing heavily, as if he had been running for some reason. His mouth was slightly open, lips dry, the top thinner than the bottom. A fleeting thought crossed José’s mind: how much he wanted to bite the other man’s lower lip.

Suddenly, Carlos stepped forward and grabbed José, pressing his lips to his with desperate intensity.

José pulled him inside and closed the door before Carlos’ back could hit it.

They stepped back. They said nothing, just stared into each other’s eyes. Nothing needed to be spoken.

Carlos’ eyelids lowered, and with a hand that trembled slightly, he gently touched José’s face. Just like that previous Saturday. As if pressing too hard would break him, scare him, push him away.

But José didn’t want to retreat. Not now. This time was different. His mind was empty. Nothing else existed but Carlos. Carlos, right there, touching him. Kissing him.

José’s lips collided with Carlos’ with force. Carlos closed his eyes and let out a soft groan. He threaded his hands behind José’s neck.

José bit Carlos’ lower lip. Carlos grunted lightly, then kissed him again, his tongue tracing the other man’s lips.

Carlos pushed him slightly back. Their eyes met again. Then he reached for his jacket, peeling off his clothes until he was down to his underwear.

José looked at him, thought how beautiful he was, and shivered at the thought of touching him. Of being touched…

Carlos stepped forward and helped José remove his clothes, never breaking eye contact. Then he took José’s hand and placed it on his chest, over his heart. The other hand went on José’s chest, where José’s heart beat.

José could feel it-the rapid beat of Carlos’ heart and his own, sometimes syncing perfectly. He could feel the warm skin beneath his fingers, the pulse quickening.

That night, they burned away all restraint, all “shoulds” and “must-nots.”

That night, José and Carlos, with the city lights below, became one.

And Carlos dared to feel all five of José’s senses, just as José had wished.