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[ touch ]

“I don´t love you."

“You think I care?’

Hands in the hair, teeth on the neck, tongue licking up in that slow agonizing-but-so-good way.

“This is not lovemaking, this is sex.’

“Shall I repeat myself?’

Nails digging into the Mariachi´s ass, artistic fingers tracing the CIA Agent´s face, hot breath tickling ears.

“I don´t know why you do this to me.’

“And I just don´t give a shit about the why.’

Fingers wrapping around hair, pulling hard and tight as lips and teeth descend on a collarbone.  A hissed moan of approval.

“We have to stop doing this.  It´s not sane.’

“That´s the difference, El, I´ve NEVER been sane.’

Buttons being undone, some ripping off.  Shirts being discarded into a pile and on top of the guitar lying in the corner.

“I don´t even like you, Sheld--’

“It´s Sands, damnit, now shut the fuck up.’

Feet tripping over each other as they stumble across the room, one man laughing at the other man´s grunt of surprise when they fall onto the bed.

“Your skin feels like silk.’

“I want you inside of me.’

Breath catching as teeth graze over a bronzed chest, a smile curving into the toned muscles.  Fingers gliding down a milky white back to a perfectly rounded ass.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?’

“Don´t say things like that, just fuck me.’

Moans echoing, twin rasps of breath sounding into the quiet pitch black of the night.  Hands that never stop moving; over faces, over chests, over thighs.

“Tu es tan hermoso.’

“I still know what you´re saying asshole.’

Slick skin sliding together as they cry out each other´s names, nonsensical mumblings bleeding together.  Stuttered curses as they increase their tempo.

“I can´t hold on much longer.’

“Don´t, harder… harder.’

Tempo increasing, groans growing louder.  Black hair cascading over the slighter man´s features as a forehead leans on his own.  Nails digging as they both cry out.

“Why do you not let me call you beautiful?’

“Because I´m not a woman, and because it´s too much of a reminder.’

Fingers brushing back the blind man´s hair, tracing gently down his angular face.  Lips gently pressed to his temple as the other man settles beside him.

“A reminder of what?’

“Of the fact that I can´t see how beautiful you are anymore.’

Hand pausing on its stroke down the man´s chest, a hitched breath of surprise.  A hiss of annoyance piercing the tranquility that had settled.

“I am sorry, I hadn´t thought.’

“No, well… why would you have?’

Hair falling across the younger man´s face as the Mariachi rests his cheek on his shoulder.  A hand spreading over his chest, thumb brushing lightly over his still sticky skin.

“Why didn´t you tell me that was why?’

“Because I didn´t want the pity.’

Silence falling over them as the Mexican realizes he has nothing to say that won´t come out as the last thing the other man wants to hear.  

Sheets being pulled over their bodies as they settle in for the night.

Snores won´t come till much later.  Words won´t come either.

They sleep on their own sides and Sands will be gone by the time El comes out of the bathroom in the morning.

And then it´ll all happen again two days from now.

All feedback much appreciated!
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