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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.
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