Decisions of a Lifetime
folder
M through R › Once Upon A Time In Mexico
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,106
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Once Upon A Time In Mexico
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
3
Views:
1,106
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Once Upon a Time in Mexico, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
They had touched before; in greeting, joy, cleaning of wounds. They had slept in the same bed when there had been only one. They had leaned on each other in times of hurt and suffering. But somehow this was a different type of touch, an electrical, mind blowing touch. It was filled with promise, hope, anticipation. Both had been around men that they were attracted to before. Neither had ever acted on it. They were men; too much machismo ran through their veins to ever let that happen. Now suddenly, things felt different, but strangely enough, it also felt right.
El moved towards Sands. He reached a hand out tentatively; he touched Sands’ sharp cheekbone. When Sands didn’t knock it away, El felt emboldened, he moved his hand up to caress along the bone under his eyes. He moved to the other cheek, down to the chin, finally resting on his full bottom lip. Sands’ lip trembled as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to swipe at the finger. He sucked it into his mouth. El gasped, but moved closer and reaching for the guitar with his other hand, he moved it to the floor.
Sands sucked on El’s finger, swirling his tongue around the tip and pulling more of it into his wet, hot cavity. Sands reached out with his hands to find El’s shirt front and used it to pull him closer still. He moved one hand to El’s back and splayed his hand open across the small of his back, moving into the top of the waistband of his pants.
El pulled his finger out of Sand’s mouth very slowly, breathing hard he started to unbutton Sands’ shirt, then remembering how much he hated all of the man’s hokey cowboy shirts, he ripped it open instead.
Sands’ let out a growl, “Hey fuckmook, I liked that shirt!”
“And I didn’t.” sneered El, as he pulled Sands into a reclining position on the couch and climbed on top of him.
Sands started to utter something more, when it was cut off as El’s mouth established a firm hold on his own, their tongues fighting for dominance. El played with one of the brown nipples under him, caressing it to an eager point. El tasted like cordite, leather and smoke. Sands was overflowing with tequila, peppers and smoke. Comforting flavors, all of them.
They were both surprised by what they felt. Nothing about what they were doing could be deemed wrong; everything seemed to fit into place. This was right; this was good, this is how it should be. Electrical charges ran through their veins instead of blood.
With lungs to the point of bursting from lack of air, they wrenched apart. Not for the first time El wished to be able to look in Sands’ eyes to read his reaction. Even after all the days they’d spent together, having watched and learned the subtle nuances of Sands’ face and body language, it was hard to interpret what he was thinking all the time. This was one of those times. Sands didn’t move or speak. El waited. No gun, that’s a good indication that Sands wasn’t mad.
Finally, with a smirk Sands sighed, he knew what El was waiting for so he started the dialogue, “Well, I’ve always wondered what that would feel like.” He moved his hands from in between them and touched El’s face to feel his response to what had just happened.
El had spent the last year having Sands touch his face to read him, it had taken awhile, but he was use to it now. This touch was different; it was stoked with thrilling surprise. He steadied himself as he let the fingers roam over his expression. He smiled and kissed the fingertips as the grazed past his lips. When they pulled away, he dropped the smile and went back to a more realistic, dazed look. They both felt more taken aback than they were willing to share with each other just yet.
The way they were laying they could fell their erections pulsing against each other. Sands wiggled, feeling embarrassed under El, “Shit, El, You’re really heavy; maybe you should skip breakfast this morning.” El chuckled and moved to get off him, but Sands pulled him back not yet wanting the contact to end, “Wait, come back here, I didn’t say I didn’t like it!”
El shifted so that his weight wasn’t fully on top of Sands, but moved his leg up instead; their straining bulges no longer touching, but rather now pressing against their thighs. He applied pressure with his leg as he asked, “Well, what do you think we should do now, continue or stop?”
“If we continue the biscuits will burn and I was just starting the gravy, so I guess it depends on how much you want to clean up burned pans, or on how hungry you are. Hell, maybe I should rephrase that to what you are hungry for.”
El felt a hot flush fill his face, he joked it away. “I am very hungry for two very different things, but unless I eat first I may not have the strength to fulfill the second.”
“Okay then, get off me and let me finish cooking so we can eat. We..We should probably talk about this a little bit anyway.” Sands muttered the last part under his breath as he pushed against El’s chest.
El stood up, pulled Sands along and they walked into the kitchen in a prickly silence. In lieu of a shirt, Sands put on his favorite apron, it said ‘Don’t Shoot the Cook’ on it. Sociably they finished the preparation and sat down to eat. They ate in silence, each contemplating their own actions.
After the dishes had been washed, they sat back down at the table, as this seemed to be more neutral ground and a better place to talk after what had happened on the couch. They sat lost in their thoughts before Sands finally broke the reverie. “I know that talking is not your strong suit, but this isn’t something that I can do alone. I have to know what is going on in your head, the good and the bad.”
There was a silent shrug from El’s chair, he restlessly ran his hands through his hair and laid them folded on the table. Sands laughed, “Fuck, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but you really have to help out here, old buddy.”
Again, just silence. Sands reached out a laid his hand on top of El’s. El didn’t pull away so Sands took that as a good omen. He knew he was going to screw this up, but he also knew that he couldn’t depend on El to suddenly become articulate.
Chapter 2
They had touched before; in greeting, joy, cleaning of wounds. They had slept in the same bed when there had been only one. They had leaned on each other in times of hurt and suffering. But somehow this was a different type of touch, an electrical, mind blowing touch. It was filled with promise, hope, anticipation. Both had been around men that they were attracted to before. Neither had ever acted on it. They were men; too much machismo ran through their veins to ever let that happen. Now suddenly, things felt different, but strangely enough, it also felt right.
El moved towards Sands. He reached a hand out tentatively; he touched Sands’ sharp cheekbone. When Sands didn’t knock it away, El felt emboldened, he moved his hand up to caress along the bone under his eyes. He moved to the other cheek, down to the chin, finally resting on his full bottom lip. Sands’ lip trembled as he opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue to swipe at the finger. He sucked it into his mouth. El gasped, but moved closer and reaching for the guitar with his other hand, he moved it to the floor.
Sands sucked on El’s finger, swirling his tongue around the tip and pulling more of it into his wet, hot cavity. Sands reached out with his hands to find El’s shirt front and used it to pull him closer still. He moved one hand to El’s back and splayed his hand open across the small of his back, moving into the top of the waistband of his pants.
El pulled his finger out of Sand’s mouth very slowly, breathing hard he started to unbutton Sands’ shirt, then remembering how much he hated all of the man’s hokey cowboy shirts, he ripped it open instead.
Sands’ let out a growl, “Hey fuckmook, I liked that shirt!”
“And I didn’t.” sneered El, as he pulled Sands into a reclining position on the couch and climbed on top of him.
Sands started to utter something more, when it was cut off as El’s mouth established a firm hold on his own, their tongues fighting for dominance. El played with one of the brown nipples under him, caressing it to an eager point. El tasted like cordite, leather and smoke. Sands was overflowing with tequila, peppers and smoke. Comforting flavors, all of them.
They were both surprised by what they felt. Nothing about what they were doing could be deemed wrong; everything seemed to fit into place. This was right; this was good, this is how it should be. Electrical charges ran through their veins instead of blood.
With lungs to the point of bursting from lack of air, they wrenched apart. Not for the first time El wished to be able to look in Sands’ eyes to read his reaction. Even after all the days they’d spent together, having watched and learned the subtle nuances of Sands’ face and body language, it was hard to interpret what he was thinking all the time. This was one of those times. Sands didn’t move or speak. El waited. No gun, that’s a good indication that Sands wasn’t mad.
Finally, with a smirk Sands sighed, he knew what El was waiting for so he started the dialogue, “Well, I’ve always wondered what that would feel like.” He moved his hands from in between them and touched El’s face to feel his response to what had just happened.
El had spent the last year having Sands touch his face to read him, it had taken awhile, but he was use to it now. This touch was different; it was stoked with thrilling surprise. He steadied himself as he let the fingers roam over his expression. He smiled and kissed the fingertips as the grazed past his lips. When they pulled away, he dropped the smile and went back to a more realistic, dazed look. They both felt more taken aback than they were willing to share with each other just yet.
The way they were laying they could fell their erections pulsing against each other. Sands wiggled, feeling embarrassed under El, “Shit, El, You’re really heavy; maybe you should skip breakfast this morning.” El chuckled and moved to get off him, but Sands pulled him back not yet wanting the contact to end, “Wait, come back here, I didn’t say I didn’t like it!”
El shifted so that his weight wasn’t fully on top of Sands, but moved his leg up instead; their straining bulges no longer touching, but rather now pressing against their thighs. He applied pressure with his leg as he asked, “Well, what do you think we should do now, continue or stop?”
“If we continue the biscuits will burn and I was just starting the gravy, so I guess it depends on how much you want to clean up burned pans, or on how hungry you are. Hell, maybe I should rephrase that to what you are hungry for.”
El felt a hot flush fill his face, he joked it away. “I am very hungry for two very different things, but unless I eat first I may not have the strength to fulfill the second.”
“Okay then, get off me and let me finish cooking so we can eat. We..We should probably talk about this a little bit anyway.” Sands muttered the last part under his breath as he pushed against El’s chest.
El stood up, pulled Sands along and they walked into the kitchen in a prickly silence. In lieu of a shirt, Sands put on his favorite apron, it said ‘Don’t Shoot the Cook’ on it. Sociably they finished the preparation and sat down to eat. They ate in silence, each contemplating their own actions.
After the dishes had been washed, they sat back down at the table, as this seemed to be more neutral ground and a better place to talk after what had happened on the couch. They sat lost in their thoughts before Sands finally broke the reverie. “I know that talking is not your strong suit, but this isn’t something that I can do alone. I have to know what is going on in your head, the good and the bad.”
There was a silent shrug from El’s chair, he restlessly ran his hands through his hair and laid them folded on the table. Sands laughed, “Fuck, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but you really have to help out here, old buddy.”
Again, just silence. Sands reached out a laid his hand on top of El’s. El didn’t pull away so Sands took that as a good omen. He knew he was going to screw this up, but he also knew that he couldn’t depend on El to suddenly become articulate.