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They always kiss in secret. In the dark corner of the stables, under the cover of the darkness in the fields behind the farm, behind the many closed doors of their barn.
As for Isco, sometimes it drives him mad. Sometimes he wishes he could grab Álvaro in the middle of the busy marketplace and just smash their mouths together. He envies the couples laughing and kissing next to the lake on a hot summer day, sneaking out into the forest later. He envies the servant girls and the grooms, who get to dance together and hold hands and kiss in the warm grass in the orange afternoon sun.
Álvaro doesn’t seem to mind. He perceives their relationship as something private, to which the secret adds a special taste of intimacy.
Which is why, when Álvaro leans closer to Isco while they are standing at the back of a crowded square, watching the performance of some traveling theater company, and whispers in his ear “I want to kiss you now!”, Isco almost has a heart attack.
He finally persuades, or rather pushes Álvaro back to a passage of one of the houses, because he’s not suicidal. He doesn’t even have time to check nobody is watching them, though, before Álvaro practically attacks his lips and doesn’t let go until they’re out of breath.
“What’s gotten into you?” Isco asks, panting.
“I thought you’ve always wanted to do this,” Álvaro says. “And I figured you’d never find the courage.”
Isco feels the hot blood in his cheeks. “Are you calling me a coward?” he asks.
“And if I am?” Álvaro smirks.
“I’ll make you shut up,” Isco growls and returns the kiss.