PUPPY AMONG WOLVES (2) - nachomingo/lacho, degradation, humiliation, blackmail, rape/non-con
Nacho, once again, finds himself subject to Lalo's command, driving the don back and forth across Albuquerque until, finally, his Javelin can come to a stop outside his apartment.
The way Lalo commands him inside his home, treating it like his own, sets Nacho on edge. The tone he holds as he talks ia someting beyond smug, something dangerous and foreboding that manages to make Nacho feel uncomfortable, even in his familiar, spacious apartment.
He follows Lalo inside apprehensively, a bad feeling creeping up his spine and making his hair stand on end. They enter the hallway - somewhere that should feel safe - and Nacho removes his shoes, finding himself mimicking Lalo's actions.
Noticing Nacho's tension, Lalo turns to look over his shoulder and cracks a warm smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Lighten up, eh, Nachito! Get us a beer from the fridge!"
If only to just follow orders, Nacho opens the fridge and surveys the contents for beer - they're all Modelos, as per the don's orders - and grabs two, one for him and one for Lalo. He walks them over to the couch, where the he's already lazily spread, comfortable like it's his own home, and takes a careful seat at the edge of the sofa.
He passes a beer to Lalo, who frowns and gestures for Nacho to move closer, tapping the space right next to him.
"Come closer, come closer!" Lalo laughs as Nacho moves over to where he's sat. "I won't bite!" He grins, a devilish smile that twists his face into a tactful evil.
Nacho bears the proximity and drinks from the bottle, avoiding speaking or making any eye contact for fear of being subjected to humiliation again. Lalo allows him the few minutes that pass to sit in peace, to rest after his tiresome chauffering.
Soon, however, the silence is broken and Nacho is commanded again, this time by a voice more dark and excited than before.
Nacho stares at him. He has, surely, heard wrong, for why would Lalo ever request that of him? Driving him around, he gets, even the power he feels from getting Nacho to clean his boots, but this is a whole other level.
Lalo makes no move to retract his command, to follow up or laugh and brush it away as joke, and so Nacho reluctantly takes his initiative and straddles his lap, albeit awkwardly and uncomfortably.
"Good boy..." Lalo chirps, one of his hands grazing the space between Nacho's lower back and ass as he speaks. "Now," he continues softly, "take off your pants. And mine too, while you're at it."
Like clockwork, Nacho obeys - but the realisation forming in his mind seems to freeze his blood and pause the beating of his heart.
Before he can find the voice to say something, he finds himself straddling Lalo's lap again, this time with the two only wearing boxers on their lower half, allowing for friction to heat up their clothed dicks.
Lalo holds Nacho's back and digs in his nails. "Mierda..." The moan falls from between his lips, a hunger filling his eyes as he moves his hands further down until he's toying with Nacho's boxers.
"Lalo..." He's becoming increasingly nervous the longer this goes on. "I don't want to do this..." Carefully, he tries to pry Lalo's hands off his boxers, but the effort is useless; he's not letting go.
His eyes darken and he loses the softness in his demeanour. "You don't want this?" He mocks Nacho, pulling an exaggerated sad face as he talks. "Would you rather this was happening to Domingo instead? I could so easily get him here, on my lap, and fuck him with my gun..."
He looks past Nacho, his eyes dreamy as he imagines it.
"And then I could just..." He locks eyes with Nacho again and hold his hand in a gun shape, pointing vertically towards the sky. "BANG!" He yells, and Nacho jumps.
Tears watering in his eyes, he finally nods in acceptance and allows Lalo to continue pulling down his boxers. He shimmies them over Ignacio's hips, leaving his cock free and exposed. Lalo's quick to follow suit, pulling off his boxers to show off a hardening cock both thicker and longer than Nacho's, almost as if he's showing off.
Nacho glances down, and to his disdain, notices that his own cock is hardening. He supposes it doesn't help that the man currently taking advantage of him is probably also the hottest man he knows, and that this is exactly what he dreams about some nights; being forced to ride his dick to save his life. He wonders if it'll be any less sexy that he'll be riding dick to save his boyfriend.
Dirty and seductive, Lalo spits onto his palm and rubs it into his cock, gently stroking it to a slick hardness. "You don't need prep, do you?" His voice is low and dark, and it turns him on more than he expected.
Nacho knows it isn't a question, but shakes his head anyway and obediently lifts his hips up, allowing Lalo to guide the head of his cock towards his tight hole. He sniffles as it starts to penetrate the resistant ring of muscle.
Lalo, evidently not satisfied with the slow and gentle pace, roughly grabs Nacho's hips and pulls him down further on to his cock, spearing the gently crying man to no complaint. While Nacho is in no way a skinny man, he can still appreciate the bulge evident in his stomach as he bottoms out, ignoring all resistance.
Ignacio lets out a sob and leans forward, pressing his head into Lalo's chest as tears form in his eyes. He can't take it, can't deal with the pain, but... he knows it would be worse for Domingo to have to do it, and knowing Lalo, he'd make him watch as he cries and struggles. That would be worse to deal with, so he braves the pain.
"You enjoying it, mi conejito?" Lalo reaches down to grab Nacho by his chains and lifts his head up. He uses his other hand to force his mouth into a smile, his fingers pulling his lips into a twisted, deformed grin. "Aw, see, you're smiling!" His own mouth splits into a crooked grin.
The tears roll down Nacho's face as Lalo thrusts upward, rocking his hips back and forth inside him. He just wants this to be over. He can taste dirty fingers in his mouth, forcing him to smile through the pain of getting raped for his boyfriend.
His head lolls around, supported only by Lalo's fingers curled round the chains suffocating his throat, tears soaking his cheeks and spit running down his chin and staining his shirt. His eyes are barely open.
"Fuck!" Lalo grunts, each thrust harder and deeper than the last until Ignacio can't take it any longer and he throws up from his empty stomach, regurgitating acid and warm beer over Lalo's fingers still holding open his smile. He quickly withdraws his fingers with disgust and slaps Nacho's barely-conscious face. "Pendejo! Mijo di puto!" His eyes are full of loating and his expression is repulsed as he wipes the remaining acid off his tingling fingers and on to Nacho's stained shirt.
He slaps Nacho again, and again, bruising his cheek and drawing blood, all the while tearing him apart from the inside. Thrust after thrust after slap after slap, Nacho welcomes the darkness that envelops him, and he succumbs to unconsciousness, falling limp in Lalo's grip.
Lalo, still pissed, speeds up his hips, determined to finish whether Nacho is awake or not. He feels himself getting sloppy as he reaches the edge, finishing inside Nacho with one final, brutal thrust.
He laughs as he pulls out, his dick bloody and dripping with cum, and walks over to the bathroom to clean himself up, without a care for Ignacio.
Soon enough, maybe only a few minutes later, Nacho comes to, his ears ringing and vision blurred as he tries to remember what happened.
It all comes back to him in a rush, and he can feel the cum inside him, he can feel the sweat, the blood and the tears dirtying his body. He drifts back into unconsciousness; it's easier than being awake.