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I kick the rotting corpse away, pinching my nose. Flies have already started swarming the area and I avoid examining the body for any other bugs. Smelling him is enough. I don't need to see the decay as well.
The door opens again and instead of holding a tray of food, the person entering is cradling a limp Ignacio in his arms.
“What did you do to him? Is he even alive?”
“Barely but yes. And it's not what we did. This is all on you.” He doesn't chain him up this time and drops his body beside me. Ignacio hits the ground with a loud thud, still not moving or opening his eyes. His skin is covered in old burn scars, fresh bruises and other marks. He’s fully naked like me, all his colorful tattoos on full display.
“I don't think he needs to be restrained right now. He won't be moving anywhere for a while,” he says without a single hint of remorse in his voice.
Reaching down low, he curses under his breath and grabs the dead man's arms. “Any longer and he'll be falling to pieces before I can get him outside.” He drags the body into the hallway and shuts the door without locking it. He really trusts Ignacio won't be going anywhere.
I scoot toward him and sweep a hand through his hair, singing one of his favorite songs he used to beg me to play while we all ate dinner. He and his mom both loved music. It was the only way they were similar. Where she was calm, he was restless. She had dark brown eyes while Ignacio had hazel like his dad. Her hair was also a light brown and nothing like his black curly locks. He dyed it dirty blond before his first year of college and I never thought it fit him as well as his natural color.
Even his features are different from hers—they’re more defined and unique. His nose is bent a little at the tip, and it’s something you only notice if you are close enough. It’s hard not to be with Ignacio. He's an in-your-face type of man and it's nearly impossible not to put your focus on him when he's talking.
He whines and wiggles against the concrete. Lifting his head carefully, I slide it into my lap and brush my thumb down his tear-stained cheek. “Shhh… I'm here. I got you.” I sing the chorus of “All You Need” by Radiohead repeatedly, not stopping until his breathing evens out.
I resonate with the end of this song too well. Our situation is fucked up, but our skin touching and our breathing coming together is more right than anything I've ever experienced, making this feeling all wrong.
Five
Ignacio
Coming in and out of sleep, I rub my face into the warmth beneath me. I'm not sure if Everett singing to me was a dream or not. I hated how comforting it was and how it settled me more than anything else has in a long time. A hand rests on my head and my fingers slightly move over cold metal. The familiar scent has me breathing in deeper. Everett.
As much as I hate him, I still can't stop craving him. His voice, his light touches and the feel of his skin against mine. I slide my face higher up his leg, my eyes struggling to fully open because of the drugs still partly in my system.
He doesn't move and his limp hand only shifts down my neck when I bring my nose closer to his crotch, pressing the tip into his pubic hair while inhaling deeply. He wiggles a little beneath me, small snores coming from him, and I can't stop rubbing my face into his groin, my lips trailing to his soft cock. I move my head up and down, teeth grazing his foreskin.
He makes a few unintelligible sounds, scooting back. I follow him, needing to be closer. Always. My head is fuzzy and my body is heavy as I try to lift it. I stop trying and my face falls into his lap again, my mouth parting as my teeth graze his long length, tracing the large, bulging vein running down it.
“Iggy,” he says from above me. “What are you doing?”
Nothing but mutters escape my lips as I continue to taste his salty skin, getting lost in the intimate moment between us. Being here feels too right to pull away. It's a force so strong, it draws me in and holds me hostage. I stick my tongue out, licking at his hair and hardening cock. He likes it. In my dreams he always does.
My eyes are half lidded and hints of drowsiness sweep through me as I lazily lick in longer strokes, working my way to his leaking tip.
“Stop. You need to wake up now.”
“Mmph,” is the only thing I manage to say and he pushes my head away. My arms have a mind of their own and wrap around him. I tighten my grip as he tries to move away.
“Open your eyes, Ignacio. You're sleeping. This isn't right,” he whispers, fighting against my hold.
I like it here too much to leave. My face moves sideways before settling between the underside of his long length and balls, my lips forming suction as my tongue flicks in and out.
He groans, his fingers tugging at my hair and hips rocking upward. “I—”
I whimper, my sounds muted from my mouth being full of him as I suck each of his balls into my mouth. Gah, his taste. I've imagined it many times. My dreams could never compare to the real thing. He struggles against me and I tighten my hold, running my tongue over every sensitive nerve. He yanks at my strands, his body convulsing, and his cum covers my face as I continue sucking on every part of him I can reach. “Oh,” he says. “Fuck. What did we just do?” he asks, his body growing tense. I drop my arms and I bury my face in the indent of his folded knee.
“Iggy, are you awake?”
“I don't want to go to work.”
“What?” he asks, his voice laced with confusion.
“I'm sleepy.”
“Yeah…okay.” His words come out broken and his fingers move against my scalp as his heavy breathing fills the room.
