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Summary
Nacho’s breath caught in his throat as Lalo’s fingers ghosted along his jawline, the razor dragging slower, more deliberate now. He could feel Lalo’s chest brushing against his back, and the air felt thick, too thick, with something unspoken. The blade moved carefully along his cheek, and Lalo’s other hand slid down, resting on his shoulder, squeezing lightly.
"Lalo—" Nacho started, his voice a little rough, but Lalo cut him off, the razor pausing for just a second.
"Shh," Lalo whispered, his lips barely grazing Nacho’s earlobe. "Trust me. You do, don’t you?"
Series
- Part 12 of Kinktober 2024