Manuel García writes about men the way they are—not how fantasy wants them to be. In Sex at Night, desire erupts in locker rooms, on construction sites, in shared apartments where silence weighs more than words. These are stories of real men: virile, unpolished, sometimes distant, always magnetic. Lust simmers in glances, in tension, in the clash between restraint and instinct. This is not porn. This is raw, masculine eroticism—direct, carnal, and thick with the scent of skin.
The title story begins on an ordinary summer night. Edouard is eighteen, restless, and haunted by the memory of a moment he shouldn’t have seen—his older brother, Martin, naked in the shower. He tries to forget, but the image stays. When Martin asks to sleep in his room, the night stretches long and charged, the silence growing heavier with every breath they share in the dark.
The room was dim, just the hum of a fan and the weight of things unsaid. Martin’s mattress creaked beside mine. Then came the rustle—rhythmic, unmistakable. I turned. He didn’t stop. Just looked at me and said, low and easy, “After the way you looked at me today? Don’t pretend you don’t want this.” And I didn’t. Not anymore.
With ruthless clarity and unflinching sensuality, García captures the moment when curiosity tips into hunger, when proximity turns into touch. Sex at Night is a collection of charged, unapologetic stories that leave their mark like teeth on skin—sharp, hot, and impossible to forget.
