Author: Guede Mazaka
Dropping to his knees, Sands seized El's hips and slammed them back into the adobe wall. Nimble fingers tearing the other man's trousers open, he had El's cock buried down his throat before the mariachi could even get out a word. Swallowing till he could feel his jaw cracking, Sands slurped and licked, grazed teeth over stiffening flesh. Just clung to those strong legs, twining fingers in the clinking chains. Let the harsh-throated groans fall upon him like rain, soaking them up like desert dust.
When the flood came, bitter and thick, he drank it furiously, sucking and milking El till all the manna had been taken within himself. And then, shaking feverishly, he pulled off and shoved his head into El's hip, trying desperately not to sob in relief.
A hand floated over his head, combed through his mussed hair and gently tugged up until he was fitted against the other man's chest. "Damn you," Sands hissed, clutching at El's back. "Damn you. Carolina said she couldn't see you, and you-five minutes to get back on your feet--damn you. I thought-I thought you were-" strangling on the word "--dead. Do you understand? Do you?"
Running long strokes down Sands' back, El tipped up the stricken face with his other hand, brushing lips all over the fine nose, cheekbones, eyebrows so dark against the pale skin. "I'm alive." Moving down, he mouthed the other man's throat, firm and possessive. "I'm alive," he repeated calmly, sinking in teeth.
Breath hitching in mid-gasp, Sands abruptly went limp, slumping forward as the bite shocked him back into sensibility. "Don't you ever…if you die, you goddamn shit, I'll kill you. I'll kill all of us."
"Fair enough," El nodded, turning the American around in his arms. Sliding one flat palm down Sands' front, he undid the other man's pants and encircled Sands' cock in a tight fist, slowly pulling up and down. "If I can do the same with you."
Whimpering, Sands rolled his hips up into El's grip, lazily writhing until his climax crept up on him, like a last shower after the main storm. "All right," he panted, relaxing back into El. Grabbing the mariachi's sticky hand, he brought it up to his lips and carefully cleaned every drop off. "Whatever you want."
Pressing lips behind one delicately flushed ear, El hummed a quiet lullaby. Sands' breathing slowed, lengthened, and he purred softly, allowing the mariachi to cradle him as they leant together against the wall.