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[ c h a i n s . o f . l o v e ] “Could we take these off now, sugarpie,’ Sands growled, yanking his hands back and smiling as the Mariachi´s pants jangled as he fell off balance. //No.// “I´m blind, El,’ he said, the sweet tone sounding false to both of their ears. //You cannot be trusted.// “I know you speak English. Why not lay off el Español.’ //And I know you speak Spanish, why don´t *you* lay off the English?// “Touché,’ he said, his voice dropping an octave. “Honestly, El… seriously. You can take the chains off. Even a sadistic fuck like me recognizes when he is being helped.’ //I will take the chains off when we reach the hospital.// “Which is how far from here,’ Sands asked, raising an eyebrow. “We talkin´ today?’ //I tried to get a car, Sands. You are the one who said no.// Sands laughed. “They´d have seen my eyes— or lack thereof— and kicked us out anyway. I was saving us the trouble.’ //Two more miles.// “Well, El,’ Sands said, sighing deeply. “Two miles is more like ten to a man with two bullet holes in his legs, one in his arm, and no eyes.’ //I know… I´m sorry.// “So take off the fucking CHAINS!’ //No.// Sands frowned at the laugh that came from the Mariachi and yanked on his chains again, causing El to stumble back into him. “Admit it.’ //Admit what?// “You just want to be attached to me,’ Sands said, smiling slowly. “You´re sexually attracted to me.’ //Yes.// “Ah, he admits it,’ Sands said, laughing. //Surely you recognize sarcasm, Sands.// “I recognize it,’ Sands said, raising an eyebrow again. “I also choose to ignore it, because my legs are on fire, and I´m fucking chained to you like a damn dog, and it makes me happy to think at least one of us is deriving pleasure out of my torture.’ //Oh, I´m deriving pleasure-- just not sexual pleasure.// “Yeah, well,’ Sands grumbled, reaching up and pulling a few wayward strands of hair out of his blood caked face. “Maybe later.’ //Perhaps.// Sands frowned, taking a deep breath. “It´s not very nice to tease, El.’ //Who says I am teasing?//
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