naaacho

Domingo.

The boy who had been his best friend, his ride-or-die, since that very first day of kindergarten. The boy who he shared crayons, toys and memories with. The man who he now shares love with.

Domingo. He's the reason Nacho's in this position, on his knees, licking the boots of Lalo, his boss and cartel don. It's stupid, it's embarassing, it's downright demeaning, the things he would do for Domingo.

He hates the way he always has to look out for him. A puppy among wolves, that's what he is. Unable to defend himself against the big, bad ones like Eduardo Salamanca.

And so that's how Nacho finds himself cleaning the don's boots with his tongue, begrudgingly dragging it up and down the dirty leather. He can taste blood in his mouth, and he doesn't want to think about who's it might be.

Domingo, quite unknowingly, is being held at gunpoint. His life is being threatened, and for what? So Nacho can degrade himself to this? It's ridiculous, he thinks, that Lalo would go to these lengths. Nacho would probably do it if he was the one at the firing end of a gun.

Nevertheless, he's on his knees, glaring up at Lalo, smug and grinning with a devilish glint shining his eyes, and cleaning those boots like his life depends on it. And it does, in some ways. For who is he without Domingo?

"Going to go any faster than that?" He doesn't need to look at Lalo's face to see the leering grin surely spread across it. He nudges his boot into Nacho's teeth.

Furiously, Nacho speeds up, pushing his tongue harder and faster against the stupid blue loafers he had come to hate. He glowers into the spit-slick leather, no longer daring to even look at Lalo wrong in fear of what might happen.

It felt stupid now, dedicating all his worry and devotion to his father, when it was obvious Lalo would never go for him, not as long as he still believed that "la familia es todo", not as long as he still believed himself respectable enough to not threaten Manuel. So, of course he would turn to the next best thing; Domingo. Not technically family, but close enough to spark real fear and obedience into Nacho.

Despite his wishful thinking, he can't tun back time, no matter how hard he prays. He's just stuck like this, Lalo's lackee, Lalo's plaything, maybe even Lalo's fucktoy, until the day him and Domingo can escape, run away to someplace far and safe, away from all of this.

"Dear Lalo,"

Nacho was in the bathroom when he picked up the fated call. The one instructing him to open the gate at 3am sharp and allow assassins in to murder his boyfriend.

"I am so sorry that it has come to this."

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't let the assassins in, but he equally couldn't disobey Gus's orders.

"I want you to know I love you more than anything."

He had to decide between killing the love of his life or his father. Neither option seemed feasible.

"Please, please don't hate me for this."

He returne back to the car that Lalo was still working on and pretended everything was fine. It was all he could do until he decided.

"Fring left me with no choice. It was you or my father."

Later that night, Nacho found himself unable to sleep. He paced his room, tears stinging his eyes and dropping to the floor.

"I couldn't let them in. But I couldn't tell you, either."

Eventually, he found himself at the desk, penning a letter for his love. He had to explain.

"No matter what I could've chosen, I would have lost somone I loved."

Once the letter was finished, he folded it and wrote another message in large letters on the back. He slipped it into his back pocket and left the room. He needed to to outside to clear his head.

"I can only pray you forgive me, amorcito."

To his surprise, Lalo was sat by the fire outside, staring at him. Nacho was welcomed over and the pair sat with comfortable banter.

"This choice was not an easy one. I know you will be angry at me for choosing it, but I promise it's the best thing for us."

Lalo asked him to get the Louis XIII. Nacho, spotting his opportunity, acted confused enough by the instructions that Lalo ended up going to get it himself, leaving him alone.

"Don't hate me. It's all I ask."

Nacho pulled the letter from his pocket and laid it on the table.

"Protect my father. Keep him safe, please."

Nacho takes the gun out of his waistband and stares at it heavy in his hand.

"Always remember, amorcito, I love you more than anything in the world."

He raises it to his temple just as Lalo comes back out of the house. He hears glass shatter and Lalo yell something, but his ears are ringing too loudly to understand.

"Goodbye."

Nacho pulls the trigger.

"Love,"

Lalo feels as if his soul has been ripped out.

"Nachito."

Lalo drops to his knees. He screams. Lights turn on. Assassins past the gate start to fret.

"(There are assassins outside the hacienda."

Lalo falls to the floor. He's still screaming. His throat is hoarse. He pulls together the last of his energy and stands up.

"Fring sent them. He told me to let them in."

He reaches out for his lover. He feels his neck for a pulse long gone. He closes Nacho's eyes.

"I couldn't let them kill you. I also couldn't let him kill my father."

He hears gunshots past the gates. Nothing hits him. The assassins are dead. He might as well be.

Nacho pushes Lalo down onto the chair and falls to his knees.

He doesn't say anything, just slowly trails a hand down Lalo's clothed stomach, and down to his boxers. Nacho slips his fingers past the material and stares up through his lashes. He's good at seducing Lalo with an innocent look.

"Just get in there if you're going in." Lalo growls and slides his hands to the back of Nacho's neck.

He doesn't need telling twice. Lalo's pants are unbuckled and pushed down his ankles before he can even think. Nacho stares in awe at Lalo's thick, rapidly hardening cock. It's not the first time he's seen it - far from it - but by God, he is hung.

Nacho starts with kitten licks to the tip, taking the rest of the length in his hand. He looks up to make eye contact again as he slowly, very slowly, drags his tongue down Lalo's shaft.

"Fuck..." Lalo groans, tipping his head back. His breathing shakes as he struggles to not buck his hips into Nacho's face. "Eh, faster, puto!"

Eager to please, Nacho takes the cock in his mouth, not too deep, but enough to ease a moan out of Lalo. He bobs his head in a systematic rhythm, maintaining his pure-bunny look all the while.

Lalo curls his fingers around Nacho's chains and tugs on them, pulling him down to the base of his cock. "That's it, amorcito... you're doing so well."

Nacho fights back on his gag reflex as it hits the back of his throat. He's hard just from how he's getting treated. He tries to focus on looking up at Lalo still, but it's difficult when his eyes are watering and tears are dripping down his face.

"Come on, mi muñequito..." Lalo pants as he face-fucks Nacho, his cock going painfully deep. He thrusts his hips and pushes Nacho to his limits, shoving it down his throat without mercy.

No matter how rough it is, Nacho isn't going to complain - all he wants is for Lalo to be happy, and if rough is how he wants it, then that's just how Nacho's going to have to take it. He hums around Lalo's cock, drawing out a string of mumbled curses from the older man, whose pace only increases.

Lalo suddenly bucks his hips, hitting the roof of Nacho's mouth. "I'm close, amorcito, I'm close!" He moans, pulling harder on Nacho's chains with each thrust.

Nacho can feel his heat in his own stomach, and he squeezes his thighs together to try and relieve the pressure.

Lalo pushes his head away and pulls out. Nacho, knowing what to do, wraps his hands around his cock and jerks him off. His pace is quick as he pleasures Lalo, biting his lip and blinking innocently.

"Fuck, fuck..." Lalo closes his eyes and tilts his head back. His hips push forward, cum splashing over Nacho's face - over his nose, mouth and even his throat.

Nacho slows his hands as Lalo comes down from his high, and stays there, waiting for instruction, a doe-like look on his face.

Lalo's eyes are open again, and he's staring down at Nacho with a mischievious look. "Stay like that for papi." He orders, grabbing his phone from the table.

Lalo laughs as he takes photos of Nacho, still teary and covered in cum.

Nacho, now slightly disgruntled, starts to lick the cum off his face. "May I be excused to the bathroom?" He asks dryly, throat hoarse and painful.

Lalo's too used to being alone in his house.

It's 2am, and his TV is still blasting at full volume, some Mexican telenova filling the space. It's occasionally punctuated by his uproarious laughter or an exclaimed comment about the show.

It's loud, it's obnoxious, and it's driving Nacho up the wall.

☆★☆★☆★☆★

After a few hours of tossing and turning, he decides he can't take it anymore. His head is still throbbing from drinking so much at poker, and the TV playing at this ridiculous volume is not helping in the slightest.

Nacho forces himself up and out of the bed and drags his feet over to the door. "...why aren't these rooms soundproofed?" He opines, pushing the door open and stepping into the hallway.

He doesn't really want to talk to Lalo. Not after almost passing out in front of the guys at poker and having to be carried to the spare room by his boss, still annoying and giggly. He doesn't really want to face that.

But still, he'd rather get some sleep, and that's not possible at the moment with the racket Lalo is creating. Does he not understand that they both have to work tomorrow?

Before he knows it, Nacho finds himself standing outside of Lalo's room, peeking through the crack in the door at the man, still fully dressed, relaxed on his bed and clearly captivated by the bullshit on TV. He stands there for a few seconds, building the courage to knock, when Lalo starts the conversation for him.

"If you're going to stand there and watch, Nachito, you should be a little more discreet about it!" The man laughs, without even flicking his gaze off the programme.

"Too late to back out now." Nacho cavils, and steps inside the room. The TV is even louder from in here, and he can feel his head being split in half. Still, he maintains his somewhat-calm composure and just stands there, hands clasped behind his back as if he's at a drop-off.

Lalo pats the space next to him on the bed. "Ah, come on, don't be like that. If you can't sleep, come lay with me and watch this!" He gestures to the screen. "La Usurpadora, it's a classic!"

"Uh, about that..." Nacho rubs his nose and avoids looking at the bright flashing screen. "It's pretty loud..." He dodges asking what he actually wants to in fear of annoying Lalo again.

"Exactly!" Lalo's smile widens, and he's looking at Nacho now. "Just how I like it! Now, come sit." He taps the bed again, as if Nacho might not have noticed the first time.

He steps over to the bed awkwardly, still walking weirdly from the alcohol. He just wants to sleep in peace, not watch... whatever this is. Nevertheless, he finds himself laying next to Lalo, squinting at the bright screen.

"So, this one..." Lalo points at the lady on the screen. "...she's pretending to be her evil twin sister! It's reaching the climax now, eh?"

Nacho almost jumps when he feels a casual arm on his shoulder. "Oh, uh, yeah..." He shifts uncomfortably and tries to swallow the pain down.

Lalo notices his discomfort and stares at him with beady eyes. "Ay, Nachito, what's wrong? ¿Estás bien? You don't like it?"

"It's just..." He gulps. "...loud. And bright?" He glances over at Lalo nervously and exhales. The pain is blinding and he doesn't think he can take it any longer. "Could you turn it off? Please?" Nacho stares into his eyes and prays for mercy.

"No." Lalo says shortly and looks away, back at the TV. "I'm enjoying it, conejito tonto. Go back to your room if you don't want to watch." He hums and twirls the remote in his hand enticingly.

"Conejito tonto?" Nacho glares at his lap so angrily he could almost start a fire. "Who does he think I am?" He growls and reaches over Lalo to snatch the remote.

Lalo tries to push him off, but to no avail. "Maldita vibora! Get off!"

The two men tussle on the bed before Nacho comes out victorious, switching off the TV and chucking the remote somwhere behind him. He grins triumphantly at a pissed-off Lalo, his headache already lightening up.

"You're gonna pay for that." Lalo smirks, a glint of something dangerous in his eye.

All of a sudden, Nacho finds himself pinned underneath Lalo, their faces barely a few inches apart. His heart is hammering against his ribs, and fuck butterflies, there's wasps in his stomach, stinging him with nervousness and tension.

And then their lips connect, and it's nothing like Nacho's ever felt before.

It's not gentle, like his kisses with the girls. It's not soft like the last, and only, time they kissed. It's passionate, maybe a little anger-fuelled, but in a way that leaves his sleepy brain needing more.

He can feel Lalo's teeth on his, his tongue running over Nacho's lips, invading and taking over. Owning him.

Lalo's kisses move downwards, and soon enough, he's sucking and biting Nacho's throat, bruising the sensitive skin and drawing blood.

It's rough, it's painful, and it's all Nacho wants.

He runs his hands through Lalo's hair, gently at first, but soon tugging him up to join their lips again, clashing their teeth and leaving spit everywhere.

They pull apart just long enough for Lalo to speak. "You look... so beautiful." He pants, trying to catch his breath.

"Run out of stamina already, old man?" Nacho teases, reaching out a finger to touch Lalo's cheek.

"Oh, now you're really getting it..." Lalo growls, and Nacho feels his hands being moved and pinned above his head as they start to kiss again.

This time Lalo goes harder, faster and more ruthless. He bites Nacho's lips until they bleed. He forces his tongue into Nacho's mouth. He brings down a hand to choke the man.

Their hips rut against each other and Nacho feels his mind go numb as he suddenly wishes they were both wearing a lot less clothes right now.

Lalo squeezes his throat even tighter as he thrust forward, worsening Nacho's headache and making his vision go blurry. He barely manages to mumble a warning into Lalo's teeth before his hips spasm and he comes in his boxers.

Lalo lets go of him and pulls them apart, though they stay connected by a string of saliva. They're both panting now, Nacho rubbing his sore neck with a bruised hand.

He can barely keep his eyes open now. God, he's so tired...

Nacho rolls over, on to his side, and just lays there, letting sleep take over. To his surprise, he feels large, warm hands wrap around him, and pull him into a hug.

"Are you... spooning me?" Nacho mumbles, half-asleep.

Nacho wakes up in Lalo's bed, alone. He tried to sleep for a few hours, but he knows he won't be able to rest tonight.

He has no idea what the time is - seeing as Lalo barely sleeps, him being up and about doesn't mean anything. He checks the clock on the bedside table. 2:46am.

Nacho swings his legs off the bed with a groan. "Lalo?" He calls out, voice still thick and slow. Carefully, he stands up and tried to ignore the wave of dizziness he feels.

"Games room!" He hears a faint response from Lalo, inviting Nacho to join him.

***

When Nacho walks into the games room, he is greeted by the sight of a completely cleared-off poker table, save for a clean plastic sheet and some tools. Squinting through his tired eyes, Nacho can just about identify the 'tools' as tattoo guns. What on earth is Lalo doing?

"Ay, Nachito!" Lalo turns around with an aloof grin. "Come, come, sit!" He pats the chair next to him.

Nacho sits at the beckoned seat apprehensively. He's still not sure what Lalo is planning with all this equipment.

"Arm." Lalo instructs, taking Nacho's left arm and laying it on the plastic sheet. He picks up a tattoo gun and turns it on.

"Hey, what?" Nacho frowns and tries to pull his arm away, to no avail. He tilts his arm away from the needle, but is firmly pulled back into place. "Lalo, what are you doing?"

Lalo laughs, a genuine smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Isn't it obvious, Nachito? I'm giving you a tattoo! Now... hold still..." He ignores Nacho's yelp of alarm and focuses on holding him tightly.

The needle starts just above Nacho's elbow, a delicate scratch against his muscles. To his horror, it leaves behind a striking, black outline as it moves further up.

He's thankful for his high pain tolerance. Years of getting into fights, getting shot... it all adds up. Nevertheless, he finds himself crying - maybe less so from the pain, but more from his helpless situation.

"Nachito?" The buzzing on his arm pauses. "¿Estás bien?" Lalo's hand reaches out to wipe anyway the tears staining Nacho's face. He puts down the needle and pulls Nacho into a hug.

It's all Nacho needs to break down. The weight of everything - being so deep in the cartel, his father being threatened, what Fring wants him to do...

He sobs into Lalo's shirt, leaving the man's clothes soaking with his tears. "I'm... I'm sorry, Lalo..." Maybe a tattoo is what he needs. It can ground him. "I... we can continue with the tattoo... please?"

"Okay, mi conejito! Let's get back to it!" Lalo picks up the tattoo gun and holds it back over where his previous line had ended. He's already back to his smiling, enthusiatic self.

The buzzing continues, the two of them sat in silence. After a few minutes, it stops again, and Nacho can feel Lalo's eyes on him, even without looking.

"You're too tense, Nachito, relax a little!" Lalo's left hand, gloved but not holding a needle, gently rests on Nacho's arm. "You're nervous, huh? Something you wanna get off your chest?"

Once again, the scratchy buzzing continues, and Nacho waits for a while to say something. "Maybe, yeah." He's already regretting this. "Something important?"

Lalo doesn't stop the tattooing, and his lack of response pushes Nacho to keep talking.

"It's... I'm not sure if I should tell you..." Lalo raises an eyebrow at this, but doesn't look up from Nacho's arm. "It concerns you... and me?"

Nacho stares at the top of Lalo's head awkwardly. "I don't know how to say it. Or if I even should..."

Finally, Lalo turns off the tattoo gun and sets it down. He looks up at Nacho with a grin. His cheeks look a little more flushed than normal. "It's okay, Nachito. I already know what you're talking about. It's okay."

"Wait, what?" Nacho blinks in surprise and looks into Lalo's eyes. "You already know? What? How?" He splutters, slightly panicked.

Lalo just chuckles. "You certainly make it obvious, Nachito..." He almost purrs. "I could tell what was going on from the beginning..."

Now Nacho's really freaked out. Has Lalo been reading his messages? Listening to his calls? How, and why, is he still alive if Lalo knows?

"So, you know I'm working for Fring and... you don't care?" Nacho asks, incredulous.

Lalo's face drops and his eyes darken. He stands up. "You're... what? You're working for the Chicken Man?" His expression is radiating pure anger, nothing like the coy, playful expression he was wearing just a few seconds ago.

Nacho's growing more confused by the second. "Wait, I thought you knew? What were you talking about then?"

Lalo ignores his question and pulls him up by the shoulder, which is still slightly painful from the fresh linework. "You're working for Fring." It's a statement rather than a question. "What the _fuck_ are you doing in _my_ house, drinking _my_ alcohol, sleeping in _my_ bed, getting tattooed by _me_?"

"Hey, hey, wait! Lalo, I was only working for him because he's holding my father at gunpoint..." Nacho's doe-like eyes are fearful again. "I'm only telling you now because Fring won't find out!"

There's a pause of intense eye contact. "He's... planning an attack tomorrow night. He wants me to let assassins into your home to kill you..." Nacho's shaking a little now. He's seen Lalo angry like this before, but he's never been at the receiving end of it before. It terrifies him.

"And you're telling me this... why?" Lalo asks slowly. Why would Nacho risk his father's safety to tell him this?

"Because... because I ca-" Nacho cuts himself off and corrects his words. "Because I would never betray the Salamancas." It's not the real reason and Lalo knows it, but decides not to push it.

He lets go of Nacho's shoulder and looks away. He's less angry now. Still more serious than before, but not so rage-fuelled. "Tomorrow night, huh? Thank you, Nachito." Lalo sits down again and picks up the tattoo gun. He looks up at Nacho expectantly.

"So you're... not mad then?" Nacho frowns, wanting to test the waters before letting Lalo near him with a needle again.

"No." Lalo replies shortly. "Did he hurt or threaten you in any other way?" The question is asked off-hand, without Lalo, even looking up, but it still surprises Nacho.

He pauses before answering. "He... killed Arturo in front of me. Colon? Ponytail guy?" He elaborates at Lalo's confused look. "He, uh... also beat me a few times. And that whole rival gang attack thing? Where I was shot twice and almost died? It was staged..."

Lalo's expression deepens with anger again. He lets out a badly concealed growl. "He'll pay for that." He says matter-of-factly. "He won't get off easy for hurting you."

The needle is back on Nacho's skin before he can properly process what Lalo just said. Does he really matter that much to him?

They sit in comfortable silence again, the hum of the tattoo gun the only thing audible. They must have been there for about an hour before Nacho speaks again. He's leaned back in his chair, occasionally whimpering as Lalo shades the tattoo. It's a meticulous snake design, wrapping around his upper arm and curling round his neck and up behind Nacho's left ear. He can't see it all properly, but he can tell it's beautiful.

"What did you think I was going to say earlier? You said you knew what I was talking about and that I made it obvious." Nacho looks down at Lalo through the corner of his eye.

"It's... nothing." He's never heard Lalo so awkward and shy before. "Really."

Nacho pouts. "Come on, just tell me. Please?"

"Fine. I thought..." Lalo suddenly presses the needle a lot harder into the skin, making Nacho yelp. He's tensed up, and for once, he's the nervous one. "I thought you were gonna say you loved me."

It's barely audible, but Nacho hears it anyway. Time seems to stop. Everything is reeling around him. What the hell is going on?

He realises his mouth is open and he probably looks like a fish. He closes it and screams mentally.

"I..." Nacho gulps, and it feels as it he's swallowing his whole heart. "I do love you..."

Nacho's on him as soon as the last dealer drives off.

He marches over to Domingo's table, who is already standing in apprehension. He knew he messed up when he dropped a stack of bills he was counting in front of a dealer. He was nervous; weak. "What was that?" He growls in Domingo's ear, pushing him against the table, "Do you think they're going to be scared if you're as nervous as they are? Grow up or get out."

Domingo's lips tremble. He looks up at Nacho with his signature conejito expression.

"I... but..." He stammers, although his fear is mostly put on. He wants to rile Nacho up, after all. Get him annoyed. Get him angry.

Domingo continues, "I was trying my hardest, I... s-swear..." Tears well in his eyes, and Nacho can't tell if they're real or not.

"You crybaby." Nacho grits his teeth and leans forward, trapping Domingo's hips against the hot wood of the table. "I didn't fight for you to get to this position just for you to ruin our reputation."

_"Our" reputation?_ Domingo thinks, his mind wandering to all the time Nacho and Lalo spend together. Is Nacho a Salamanca now? The idea should probably concern him. It doesn't.

"At least I chose to join the cartel..." Domingo mutters, barely audible but loud enough to get the point across. He chooses his next words carefully. "You're only here because daddy needs your protection."

He glances up at Nacho and the fury in his eyes brings on real fear this time. Panic fills his brain as he scrambles to undo what he said.

"W-wait, no! Nacho, I swear... I didn't mean it! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry..." He blurts out, real tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. A year ago he wouldn't be so scared. A year ago Nacho would've played along. But this isn't a year ago, and he definitely isn't playing now.

Domingo feels his friend's strong hands, flat against his back, flip him around effortlessly so that he's squashed uncomfortably between Nacho and the table, hardening cock trapped.

"You're so useless!" Nacho growls, his voice twisted with rage. "You're so pathetic, aren't you?" He pulls Domingo's trousers and boxers down together, moving the fabric so his ass is exposed.

"Weak, pathetic crybaby." Nacho's hand hits Domingo's ass with a crack, making him yelp.

Domingo whimpers and wriggles in his degrading position, his face flat against the table. He's fully aware of the open blinds. Although it's dark both inside and out, someone could still see in if they tried hard enough. Yet another thing that should worry him that doesn't.

Another slap brings him out of his thinking. "Nacho... I'm sorry..." He immediately starts to apologise. "Please, anything but this..."

To his surprise, Nacho pauses. "Anything but this?" His voice still has the low tilt of anger to it, but there's a shimmer of excitement now too. One that Domingo doesn't like the sound of.

Nacho's hands are off him once again, and he can hear the sounds of a zipper being undone and fabric being moved. Then, Nacho's hard cock at his entrance.

"You don't need any prep, do you?" Nacho taunts. "I think you've proved you don't deserve any, anyway." He spits on his hand and slicks up his cock before slowly, gently, pressing into Domingo.

Domingo yells and his struggle increases. "Nacho... please! Get off me!" Tears are dripping down his nose and pooling on the table. "I don't want this..."

Nacho scoffs. "Don't lie to me." Once again, Domingo feels himself being turned over by Nacho. Only this time, he feels a hand settle on his own cock. "Of course you want this. You wouldn't be so hard otherwise, would you?"

Gently, Nacho brushes his fingers over the tip, just enough to make Domingo whine and buck his hips.

"See?" Nacho's voice is low and dangerous again. "You're a liar. And I don't trust liars." He lines himself up and continues pushing in, his slightly wet cock facing resistance from Domingo's tight entrance.

"Please!" Domingo blubbers. "Stop! It hurts... I'm sorry..." He whines, looking even more pathetic than usual with how wet his face is.

Nacho groans in frustration. "Shut up, Mingo!"

Still, he continues to whimper, crying and begging as his best friend and fuckbuddy violates him.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" Nacho's hand connects with Domingo's face hard enough to make him quiet down and swallow blood. Somehow, Domingo being completely still and quiet pisses him off more than when he was crying. At least then it felt like fucking someone in the same room as him.

With a roll of anger and frustration, Nacho slams his hips forward, bottoming out into the crying mess underneath him. Domingo cries out and, even if just for something to get mad about, Nacho hits him. And again. And again.

Domingo is quiet again, his left cheek bruised and bleeding from where Nacho's cross bracelet caught it. All the while, he's still getting fucked dry at a relentless pace.

Just as Nacho brings up his hand to hit Domingo again, a voice from behind interrupts him.

"Ayy, Nachito, you're not trying to kill the puta, are you?"

Nacho freezes and looks over his shoulder to see Lalo sat on a chair not far behind him; feet on a table and Modelo in hand.

"Lalo..." Nacho greets him nervously and pulls out. "How long have you been there?"

Lalo laughs uproariously and sips his beer. "Long enough, Nachito... long enough."

Domingo stirs underneath Nacho. His ass is on fire with pain and his face is numb. "Don Eduawdo?" He lisps, cheek and tongue still swollen. "What?" He glances at Nacho, but he seems just as confused and scared as Domingo is.

"Now..." Lalo starts, swinging his feet off the table and on to the floor. "Why did you stop, Nachito? Just when you were giving me a good show!" He tuts mockingly and strides over to the two men. "What did he even do so wrong, anyway?"

Nacho stumbles for an answer. "He... he dropped money... in front of a dealer? Lalo-... Don."

The way Lalo stares at him in response send shivers crawling down his spine. He opens his mouth to speak and Nacho braches himself, but the words are aimed at Domingo. "Are you fucking stupid?" It's a question, but he doesn't feel much inclined to answer. "Are you trying to ruin our reputation?"

Domingo shakes his head hurriedly. "No, Don." He's still resting awkwardly on the table, his legs loosely hugging Nacho's.

"I agree with Nachito; you need a punishment." Lalo stalks closer towards Domingo's head. Not breaking eye contact, he removes his slacks and boxers, leaving his thick cock exposed.

Domingo's eyes widen staring at it. "Wait, Don... I'm sorry, please don't- I didn't mean to, it won't happen again, I swear..."

Lalo just scoffs and steps one foot over the table, leaving him straddling Domingo's face. "Are you going to start again?" He's looking at Domingo, but the words are for Nacho.

"Yes Don..." Nacho mumbles, re-slicking his cock. He's not angry anymore, not like he was earlier. Now he's just confused, and maybe a little aroused?