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Once, when Leon was a kid, he accidentally knocked a cup of murky, pigment-infused water onto a sketch during art class. The gray-brown flooded the paper before he could react, and by the time he and a few well-meaning classmates had grabbed fistfuls of paper towels to try to salvage his drawing, very little of the original remained. The pencilled outlines Leon had spent so long on were ruined. He developed a distaste for watercolors; at the time, it was the worst thing that had happened to him.
Some two decades later, Leon was idly reminded of the incident as he gazed into the middle distance in the village in Valdelobos. Crumbling churches, rotting cottages, broken fence posts strewn around patches of drying grass and empty troughs—it all blended together under a layer of musty fog. The air stretched over the environment almost as strongly as the stench of dead animals, dead infected, dead men.
A few feet behind him, Luis cursed to himself, rubbing the spot on his back where he’d received a nasty blow a few hours ago. “It’s getting dark. I thought you said we were going to call it a night, Sancho.”
“Soon as we find somewhere safe. Safer, at least.”
Leon could have kissed the first shoddy door they came across that was still intact.
The house was small—one room with a bookshelf, empty, a table and chair, tipped over, and a fireplace with some dying embers. Along the back corner was a bed whose four dark wooden posts had clearly become termite food.
But none of the windows were shattered, and the small iron latch on the door even worked.
Leon shed his jacket and chest holster, draping them over the table, then sat and started rifling through his bag, silently counting ammo. “We keep going at dawn.”
“Hey, check it out.” Luis ambled towards the fireplace and picked up something from the mantle. A matchbox.
He struck a match and tossed it on the glowing coals. A weak fire flickered to life. Luis plucked the moth-eaten quilt from the mattress and dropped it onto the floor. “Fuck, I’d kill for a smoke.”
Leon watched him from the corner of his eye.
“So you keep saying.”
“But can you blame me? This hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park, has it?” Luis slid off his shoes and stretched out on the bed. “Joder. I feel sore like an old man.”
“Get some sleep.”
“You’re not joining me?”
“What?” Leon frowned. Almost glanced up. “No.”
“Oh, you don’t need sleep, is that it?”
“Not a priority.”
“Pfff.” Luis folded his arms over his chest. “Must be very important, then, making sure you have the same number of bullets you had when you checked a few hours ago.” His comment earned him a glare, which he seemed proud of. “Come on, give yourself a rest. You must be tired, all the kicking and acrobatics you do.”
“That’s just how I fight. I’m used to it.”
Luis was splayed out on the bed so languidly that it made Leon’s bones ache in envy.
“Just lie down. You can keep your damn gun by the bed if you’re so worried.”
Rolling his eyes, Leon stood up and tossed his Red9 onto the floor next to the bedpost. He unlaced his boots, and the tautness in the soles of his feet eased slightly.
“I’m not gonna be able to fall asleep,” he grumbled, sitting on the mattress. It creaked under the added weight. He stared ahead at the window. He could see his reflection better than he could see the outside.
Somewhere behind him, Luis spoke, sitting up with a sigh.
“Not if you sit like that, with your shoulders practically touching your ears.”
“They’re not—” Leon flinched as he felt a set of hands on his back. “The hell are you doing?”
Luis pulled away. “Sorry. You’re just so tense, it’s stressing me out.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need a goddamn massage.” Heat crawled up Leon’s face.
“Relájate, tío.” Luis’s voice was oddly soft. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Leon filed the sound away. “I’m sorry, I just—I know I don’t fight well. Not compared to you, anyway. Let me help how I can.”
“This isn’t gonna—”
“Humor me.”
“...Fine.” What the hell was he doing?
“Good,” Luis said. His hands closed firmly around Leon’s shoulders again, and he pressed his thumbs down. “I’m not a professional, I’ll warn you now.”
Leon wanted to squirm. The touch felt heavy and sharp. “I can tell.”
“Cállate, I’m also out of practice.” Luis drove the heels of his palms into Leon’s back. “Damn, cowboy, you have to start stretching after your workouts.”
“I do.” Leon gritted his teeth as Luis pushed hard against a knot of muscle. “Ow.”
“Not enough, clearly.” Luis eased the pressure, circling his thumbs over the skin. “I’ll be gentler, though. Bear with me.”
Leon forced his eyes to close, sucking in slow breaths as Luis continued to knead his shoulders and neck. Every so often he grazed something that sent a spike of relief over Leon’s body. Leon felt his shoulders begin to drop, and his eyes shot open again. He glanced out the window. There was nothing there.
“Better?” Luis asked.
“I guess.”
“Mhm. Good.”
“Still doesn’t mean I’m gonna fall asleep.”
“Aw, are you scared, cielo?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Sure.”
Leon slept when his body, either from fatigue or drunkenness, failed to keep him upright. Here, now, he was sober and not nearly tired enough to collapse.
“I could tell you a story,” Luis crooned, and Leon scoffed. “Of course, they’d all be in Spanish.”
“Hey, yo puedo comprender,” Leon said, face twisting at his own butchered pronunciation. “Probably sounds nicer in Spanish, anyway.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah. Pretty language.” His eyes closed again.
Luis laughed, and Leon could have sworn he felt the warm brush of the exhale against the side of his neck. His hands slid a little lower down Leon’s back, and he rolled his knuckles on either side of Leon’s spine. “Oh, you like when I speak Spanish?”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I’m not! I just know how Americans are. Os gustan los idiomas romances, ¿verdad?”
“Well—y’know, it’s—“
“No seas tímido,” Luis said. “¿Te relajarías un poco si te hablase así?”
It was as though he were kneading Leon’s inhibitions out of his body. “Might help. Yeah.”
“I can do that.” Luis pressed down on a particularly tender spot on Leon’s back with precise gentleness. “Realmente me preocupo por ti, Leon. Quiero ayudarte.”
“If you really wanted to help me, you’d stay out of my way.” There was no bite behind the words.
“Sé que no hablas en serio, cowboy.”
Leon gave in, loosened further. If they weren’t where they were, doing what they were doing, this room could have been cozy; he could smell old wood and charcoal underneath the scent of blood and gunpowder that he never seemed able to wash from his skin.
“Eso es.” Luis sounded so quiet, so close, dragging out his vowels as his hands slowly unwound the tension in Leon’s muscles. “Te mereces un descanso, aunque si sea corto.”
“I get enough rest.” Leon suppressed the urge to squirm again, not from discomfort this time. He couldn’t remember when someone had last touched him like this. Or touched him at all—a living, breathing person who didn’t want to hurt him, who had strong fingers capable of coaxing out what he thought he’d lost at NEST six years ago.
“Mentiroso,” Luis said, a lilt in his voice. “No offense, guapo, but I know tired when I see it.”
Fuck, okay, maybe Leon was getting a little too into this. His hands tightened around the mattress underneath him.
“You’re tensing up again. Did I hit a bad spot?”
“No.” He looked down at his lap and his face warmed. “Let’s—that’s good enough. We can be done now.”
Luis stilled, but didn’t pull his hands away. “I was only getting started.”
“I’m just—“ The heat seemed to pool faster when the touch stopped. Leon pressed his legs together before he could stop himself, and his breath hitched.
“What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” Behind him, Luis rose to his knees, casting a shadow over Leon’s peripheral vision as he leaned forward. “Ah, no. You are not.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m flattered, Sancho, I didn’t know you liked it that much.”
“Shut up. I—sorry. I swear I’m not—“
“Hey, hey, tranquilo. It’s alright. I get it.” Luis’s hands slipped to Leon’s sides. “It’s easy to get lonely.”
Leon’s heart pounded. He tried to laugh. He sounded hoarse. “Y-yeah.”
“Should I stop?” Palms on his chest now, sliding up and down. “Hey. You gotta talk to me, Leon.” Luis’s cheek brushed his neck, the graze of his stubble sending a chill down Leon’s back.
“I’ve just never—I’m not—“ Half of Leon’s mind raced eagerly; the other half was desperate to slam the brakes. He grabbed one of Luis’s wrists and pinned it to his thigh, then fumbled at his belt, unbuckling it and popping open his fly.
“Shit, look at you.” Luis’s hand on Leon’s hip tightened. “Iremos despacio. One thing at a time, yeah?” His voice was a whisper now, curling into Leon’s ear. He pulled Leon’s belt from its loops and let it fall to the floor.
Leon nodded, trying to breathe through his nose.
“¿Te puedo tocar?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you can touch me.”
Luis’s hand closed around him over his boxers, his grip light. “How do you like it?”
“Slow,” Leon muttered, instinctively leaning back against Luis’s chest. He was vaguely aware that he was grinding against the hand resting between his legs. “I like being teased.”
“I can do that.” Luis’s fingers curled slightly over the fabric. “You’re making it easy for me, moving like that.”
Leon watched his hips roll forward and up. He couldn’t get them to stop. “Don’t…”
“What?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It’s fucking hot. Is this how you do it when you’re alone? Just rub your dick against whatever’s closest?”
Leon wanted to bury his face in his hands, but they were locked tightly onto the mattress. “No. Sometimes.”
“God, I bet you look so good. Letting your body take what it needs. Me excita pensar en ello.”
“Really?”
“Fuck, of course. I’m lucky you’ve been too busy kicking ass to notice me checking out yours.” Luis laughed, then turned his head and gingerly pressed his lips to Leon’s neck, sending goosebumps down his arms. Leon wrenched a hand up and moved it to his waistband, lifting it away from his skin.
“What happened to slow?” Luis said, but his hand slid under the fabric. Both of them moaned at the contact.
Leon had never felt so pliable. His body felt unusually soft, canting forward in a steady rhythm, pushing in and out of the fingers wrapped around him. The desire to rut hard and fast into Luis’s fist was building, and it felt so good to neglect it.
“I want to kiss you,” he said, surprising himself.
“You should probably kiss me, then.”
“Yeah.” Leon turned around, eyes trained on the window until it left his field of vision. Luis, sitting back on his heels, met his gaze with an arched brow.
Embarrassment and nerves tripped over themselves in a race to make his hands shake as he brought them to the sides of the other man’s face.
He was taken aback by how easy it was once it started. His mouth fell open for Luis’s tongue, and when he felt fingers sliding under his clothes he lifted his arms unthinkingly, breaking away as Luis pulled his shirt up and off. Luis guided Leon onto his back and looked down at him. He palmed himself over his trousers with one hand and ran the other down Leon’s body. “God damn. What’s the saying? Carved from stone?”
Leon flushed. “Something like that.” He reached tentatively up to Luis. “Do you want me to…?”
“Empezamos con lo que conoces,” Luis said, lowering himself, softly pressing his lips to Leon’s chest, just beneath his collarbone.
“Huh?”
“Let’s start with what you know. With what is familiar.” Luis moved slowly down his abdomen, peppering kisses across his skin. He looked up, his chin hovering just above Leon’s hard-on, eyes enveloped in shadow by the hair falling over his face. “Do you prefer hands or mouth?”
“I—um—mouth.”
“Oh good, me too,” he said, and peeled back Leon’s boxers and wrapped his lips around him. He lay one hand, palm facing up, next to Leon’s waist, and Leon grabbed it, breathing shakily as he adjusted to the newfound heat. Luis was relaxed, taking Leon to the back of his throat and only pausing briefly before he began to bob his head.
There was a great distance between what was happening and Leon’s ability to feel it. He lay still, closed his eyes, tried to focus on the sensation, but it stayed muted.
Luis lifted his head. “Not working out for you?”
“No, it’s good, I just—sorry. It’s been a while.” Leon rubbed a hand over his face. “Think I’ve forgotten how to—I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. No pressure, yeah?” Luis’s thumb moved in circles over Leon’s palm. His voice dropped low again. “You wanna keep going?”
“Yeah,” Leon said. “Yeah. Please.”
Luis grinned and opened his mouth again. He moved slower this time. His grip on Leon’s hand was firm.
Gradually, the pleasure trickled in.
Leon breathed in sharply as he felt the muscles in Luis’s throat flexing around his cock when he swallowed and his tongue sliding up and down like he was trying to savor the taste. He groaned, closed-mouth, face reddening when Luis laughed softly and squeezed his hand. His hips twitched of their own accord, shallow and hesitant at first, then deeper until he heard a noise of surprise and stilled. “Sorry.”
But Luis looked at him, gave an encouraging nod, and moaned when Leon thrust up again.
“Done this before, haven’t you?” Leon breathed.
“Mhm.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with—I just—you’re good.” Clumsily, he reached down and lifted Luis by the jaw.
“Glad to hear it.”
“What, um—“ Leon licked his lips. “What else have you done? With men.”
“Most things,” Luis said, wrapping his hand around Leon’s cock and stroking him almost disinterestedly. “Plenty of this, of course. I’ve fucked them. Been fucked by them, too.”
“Does it feel good? Being…being fucked.”
“If they know what they’re doing, yes.” Luis tilted his head to one side. He tightened his hand into a proper fist, working it up and down with a faint, wet sound. “Te lo metería si me lo pidieses.”
“I—I don’t know what that means.”
“I’d give it to you if you asked.” Luis’s hand moved faster.
“N-not tonight.” God, he shouldn’t phrase it that way. “Just…”
“Like the idea? Like hearing me talk about it?”
Leon nodded stiffly, eyes drifting to the ceiling. “It sounds—ah, shit—“
“It feels good, príncipe, having something inside you. Filling you up like that.” Luis smiled, swiping his thumb over the leaking head of Leon’s dick. “If whoever’s fucking you can reach your prostate, can hit it again and again with his cock…” He sighed, a sound deep in his chest. “Se siente tan rico. Recostarte mientras alguien empuje las caderas, estirándote a ti alrededor de su polla.”
“I’m guessing I—fuck—I wouldn’t find those words in a textbook,” Leon said. Probably for the better he couldn’t understand, anyway; Luis’s cadence was intoxicating enough as it was. Leon could tell he was playing it up, and still he was falling for it.
“O puedes follarme. Would you want to do that? To fuck me?”
“Luis—” Leon bucked his hips faster.
“Quiero dártelo todo, Leon. Hoy no, pero cuando quieras—“
“Luis, stop, I’m gonna come.”
Luis frowned, but pulled his hand away. “Is that a bad thing?”
Leon shook his head, panting, watching his cock twitch against his stomach. “I haven’t seen—you.”
Luis smiled again, shifting up to his knees and undoing his belt. “Forgive me. No manners. You’re very distracting, is all.”
“Jesus, you’re annoying.” Leon sat up, batting away Luis’s hands so he could undress him himself. “These are the stupidest fucking pants in the world.”
“It’s a hook, Romeo, you have to pull—”
“Whatever.” Leon shoved the fabric down Luis’s thighs, and another wave of heat raced across his body as he laid his eyes on Luis’s cock. “Can I—I don’t know. I don’t—what do you—?”
“Cariño, take a breath.” Luis took him by the chin, kissed him lightly.
“Sorry. I don’t—I’m not usually this nervous.”
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Luis scooted farther back on the mattress, sitting against the wall. “And nothing to be nervous about, either. You’re in familiar territory.”
Leon crawled next to him.
“Ponte los dedos en la boca.”
He lifted three fingers to his mouth, not registering what he was doing until his knuckles disappeared from his field of vision, and sucked on them. He thought of how Luis’s tongue had moved against him and imitated the motion with a low whine.
“Good, that’s it. Now bring your hand over here, just like that, yes—” Luis moaned the moment Leon’s fingers were wrapped around him. “Fuck, a little tighter.”
Leon slid his hand up and down. He shifted his fingers, changed his grip experimentally, listening for the subtle changes in breath that let him know he was on the right track. Luis took hold of Leon’s jaw, pulling him closer to kiss him hungrily.
Impatient, Leon shoved his free hand between his own legs to jerk himself off, slower than he was touching Luis, afraid he’d lose it if he matched that pace.
Luis’s mouth was open and eager against Leon’s, an amalgam of lips and tongue and teeth and muffled noises that left Leon feeling slightly dizzy. He kept forgetting to breathe in the fractions of time he was able to. He pulled away just as his lungs started to burn. “Can I suck you off?”
Luis tipped his head back against the wall. “Mmf, yes. You really want to?” He was already moving, shifting to lie on his back.
“Think so.” Leon slid onto his stomach, settling between Luis’s parting legs. “Might not be good.”
“You’ve got the mouth for it.”
“Meaning…?”
“Meaning you’ve got the mouth for it.” Luis brushed a couple fingers through Leon’s hair, and Leon moaned and ground down against the bed. He wrapped his arms around Luis’s thighs and hitched them over his shoulders, like he’d done with the girls he’d eaten out in college. Like he’d thought of doing to Ada, more than once, alone in his apartment, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure and guilt.
Leon shook his head.
He opened his mouth, holding Luis’s cock steady as he eased himself around it. He tasted sweat and musk and skin. Luis looked down at him.
“Okay so far?”
Leon nodded as best he could, then carefully lifted his head, sank it down, lifted it again. He was acutely aware of his teeth, trying to keep them as uninvolved as possible.
He pressed his tongue against the underside of Luis’s cock and heard a soft sigh from somewhere above him.
“Keep going.” A hand in his hair again. Leon writhed, pressing his hips against the mattress, rutting into the damp spot he could feel on his boxers. He desperately hoped he was being subtle and at the same time hoped his needy little movements were in Luis’s field of vision.
He tried actually sucking, hollowing his cheeks slightly, and was rewarded with another moan, a tug on his hair. “Am I pulling too hard?”
“Hm-mm.” Harder, he willed silently. Please. He bobbed his head eagerly, letting the tip of Luis’s cock slide to the front of his throat. He tasted salt, and thrill spiked through his body. He feels good. I’m getting him off.
An ache was forming in his jaw, and when it grew too strong to ignore he raised his head.
Luis looked rapt. “Feel alright?”
“Yeah.” Leon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Feels good.”
He glanced out the window again. Nothing.
“I’m, ah…” Luis laughed, the sound short and stilted. “I’m not going to last much longer.”
Was he embarrassed? Leon studied his face for a moment, but the room was dim and it was hard to find a flush on his cheeks.
“Do you want to, um.” He paused. Fuck, this was weird. “In my mouth?”
Luis’s dick twitched. “Are you okay with that?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Uh—no. Not tonight.” Why did he keep saying that? “Sorry. I don’t know why I said it if I wasn’t—I dunno.”
“Do you always apologize this much when you fuck?”
“What? I haven’t been—shut up.”
“No, really.” Luis grinned. “It’s sweet, you know, you’re a real considerate guy, but you gotta—oh—“
Leon dove down onto his cock again, vindicated when Luis stumbled over his words almost immediately.
He sucked hard, his hands curling into fists as he felt soft, blunt prodding against his throat. Incrementally, he took him deeper, groaning in satisfaction when that faint salty taste hit his tongue again.
“Me voy a correr,” Luis moaned, grabbing Leon’s hair again, giving it a few desperate, hard tugs. “Mierda, that means I’m gonna come, Leon—“
Slowly, teasingly, Leon pulled away from him and sat back on his heels. He was fiercely aroused, hearing Luis nag him like that, and the sudden heat brought with it an odd confidence. It didn’t matter where they were, what they were doing, the fact that Leon was new to this.
He closed his fist around Luis, working him tight and slow. Luis looked down at him, eyes lidded, mouth twisted in a dazed, incredulous smile.
“Come on,” he said, hips jerking up. “Faster. Let me finish.”
“Say please,” Leon responded. He barely had time to wonder where the hell that came from before Luis tipped his head back and whined.
“Leon.” He was leaking now, steady pulses of precum onto Leon’s fingers.
“Say it.”
“Please.”
A noise Leon had never heard himself make broke loose from deep in his chest. He upped the pace of his fist, and Luis shuddered and let out a string of curses, voice rising in pitch as his body tensed. Leon watched him spill, felt the warmth of Luis’s spend over his hand, and rolled his own hips against the mattress again. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s so fucking hot, just like that, come for me.”
Luis’s eyes were closed. His chest heaved. He reached haphazardly for Leon, his breath coming in heavy. “Tócate, Leon, please, touch yourself, hazte correr, make yourself come, do it on me.” Shakily, he unbuttoned his shirt, pulling the fabric away, sliding his hands over his bare chest with another whine.
Leon’s thoughts flatlined. He got onto his knees, shoved his boxers down, and started jerking himself off, his mouth slack, eyes fixed on Luis’s. “You—want me to—?”
“Yes.” Luis nodded so hard Leon was surprised the bed didn’t shake. “Will you? Please?”
“Can’t believe that’s all it takes to get some fuckin’ manners out of you,” Leon groaned, pushing his free hand through his hair. His forehead was damp. “Shit. Shit, I’m so close. Don’t stop talking.”
Luis slid a hand to his own neck. “Want you to come all over me. Fuck, Leon, ¿sabes lo hermoso que eres? ¿Lo que me haces? Voy a pensar en ti y esas putas cadenas cada noche por el resto de mi vida. Córrete, please, hazme tuyo, Leon, give it to me.”
It was a miracle Leon caught much of anything he said as he choked out Luis’s name and came hard, white streaks landing on Luis’s chest, on his cheek, on the mattress. He stroked himself through it until his body trembled away from the touch.
When he opened his eyes again, Luis was gazing up at him, his mouth open, his face a blend of arousal and vulnerability.
Leon’s heart skipped. “Jesus. Are you okay?”
“Yes. You?”
“Y-yeah. I’m fine.”
He climbed off the mattress, pulled his underwear back on, and stumbled towards his pile of equipment on the table. He rifled through his hip pouches until he found what he was looking for, a roll of gauze, and tore off a few strips. Returning to Luis, he wiped the material across his chest, his collar, his face, then cleaned off his own hands.
“That’s creative,” Luis remarked, still slightly breathless.
Leon laid himself down, eyes fixed to the ceiling. “Served its purpose.”
He tried not to flinch when Luis rested his head against his shoulder.
“It’s legal here, you know,” Luis said. He gestured between them. “This.”
“It is in America, too.”
“No. For you it’s just not illegal. Here—I mean, people are getting married. And—” He set a hand on Leon’s chest. “I’m not proposing to you. I’m just saying, things are changing.”
“So? I’m not—I’m into women. Always have been.“
“Good for you, Sancho, so am I. Look, I’m trying to say you don’t have to look out the window every five seconds.”
“I’m keeping an eye out for infected.”
“You think you’d be able to see them before you heard them? Bastards never shut up.” Luis scoffed. Rubbed the pad of his thumb over Leon’s collarbone. “We’re safe, cariño. Not from los ganados, but…we’re safe.”
The light from the fireplace, never all that strong to begin with, was dying fast, and the torches affixed to the walls weren’t far behind. Leon was exhausted, warm, oddly calm.
By the time the cabin went dark, Luis had dozed off, snoring quietly.
Leon lifted his head and looked out the window.
There was nothing there.
He fell asleep.