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Ignacio Salamanca wakes up in squalor. At least compared to what he is used to. He rolls over in bed, feeling thick cotton blend sheets scratch against his skin. It isn’t the linen fabric he is used to, instead some kind of cheap half-polyester crap.
“Amber!” he calls out, not very loudly since he’s now face down in the pillow.
The pillow smells kind of weird, too. He lifts his head, blinking at the sun coming in through the window. Amber or Jo must have pulled the blinds up when they got up. He swears under his breath as he rubs his eyes.
It’s weird for him to wake up alone. He doesn’t like it. He’ll make it known to his girls. It’s not like they have any good reason to get out of bed. Unless it’s to make him breakfast.
He calls for Amber again. Then for Jo. It takes him another minute to realize he isn’t in his own bed. He’s not even in his own house.
For a moment he just sits there, staring out into the room, eyes wandering from the striped duvet to the window with broken blinds to the bedroom door, standing ajar. There are clothes on the floor. A pair of jeans with the belt still in them, a patterned shirt and a pair of underwear.
The shirt looks weirdly much like the one Lalo wore yesterday. He tries to remember what they did last night…did he follow Lalo home when poker night was over? No, no he didn’t. He left Domingo’s house with him but Lalo dropped him off at tío’s place.
Finally, he looks down at himself. His hands feel weird, bigger than usual, somehow. Oh, and he has a tattoo now? That is…really fucking weird. It looks just like the one Lalo has, in the same spot on his forearm too.
He slowly climbs out of bed, still looking down at his arms. Stepping out through the door he finds himself in a small apartment, a kitchen right in front of him and a larger living area to his left. It’s not his style of decore, but it looks homely, in a bachelor-way. Which is to say there’s dishes in the sink and a pair of dirty socks on the living room carpet. He stumbles around and has to put his hand against the wall to stay on his feet until he finds the bathroom door. Stepping into the bathroom he’s immediately met with a mirror.
At first he just laughs. He’s not sure what else to do. What kind of fucked up dream is this?
He’s woken up in Eduardo Varga’s body.
He looks himself over, wondering what his mother’s friend who insists she can interpret dreams would say about this. On his own he can figure out that he apparently thinks highly of Lalo, since his subconscious has given him an impressively large cock. It’s easily bigger than his own, which makes him feel both emasculated and horny.
Touching it feels strangely real, not the way dreams usually feel, where you don’t really feel anything. He’s not unfamiliar with sex dreams and they tend to be strictly visual for him, nothing like this.
Nacho allows himself to be pulled along towards where this seems to be going, spitting in his hand and wrapping it around his - Lalo’s - cock. Why else would he be naked? The sight of it hardening in his fist sends a shudder down his spine. He can’t wait to forget about this when he wakes up. Dreaming about this annoying old man naked, dreaming about waking up in his body, about being him.
About his cock. Ew.
But it’s kind of hot. In a very heterosexual way, Nacho assures himself. Okay, maybe he’s not entirely straight, maybe he’s fucked around a bit, so what? He’s always topped so it’s not really gay.
When he hears himself moan, he blushes. It’s Lalo’s voice. How the fuck did his subconscious figure out what Lalo sounds like when he moans?
He stops touching Lalo’s cock for a moment just to close his eyes and say a few of things he would like to hear him say.
“I’m a big stupid fag who should understand that I’m supposed to do what I’m told.”
It brings a little smile to his face.
“I look fucking stupid with this ugly mustach, I’m sorry for embaressing you Don, I’ll shave it off!”
If dreams weren’t always so short he would have spent some time to actually do that. It would be really funny to see what Lalo looks like without it.
A frankly disgusting idea creeps into his head. He puts a hand on his cock again, stroking himself slowly.
“Fuck me, Igancio…I want you to fuck my stupid faggot ass,” he whispers, biting his lip at the shot of arousal the sound of those words in Lalo’s voice sends down his spine. “I want you to fuck me, wanna bend over for you and let you- let you fuck me until I come so hard I have a fucking heartattack!”
He keeps talking dirty, grunting louder and louder until he comes with what is almost a shout. A few drops of cum still hang at the end of his dick when he opens his eyes back up. He wipes them off with his finger, bringing his hand up to his mouth to lick them off without a thought.
The taste of cum is incredibly realistic. He savors it for a moment before swallowing. Fuck…he’s…he’s into Lalo, isn’t he? There’s no other reason for him to have a dream like this.
Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration. He’s had sex dreams about a lot of people. Several people that he really shouldn’t have had sex dreams about, like, people worse than Lalo to have had sex dreams about. Most of them he doesn’t actually wanna have sex with.
The dream doesn’t change after he steps back out of the bathroom. Nothing in the apartment really looks that weird, or even dreamlike. He walks back into the bedroom and decides to get dressed. Leaving the clothes on the floor where they lay he opens Lalo’s wardrobe. There’s nothing there that really draws Nacho’s eye but he grabs a pair of dark jeans and a dark blue shirt - the closest thing to black he can find.
If he has to be in Lalo’s body for the rest of the dream he might as well have some fun with it. He’s halfway into the pants when he hears a phone dinging. It’s coming from the bedside table. Lalo’s phone is going off, alerting him to several messages coming through. He lumbers over as he zips the jeans up.
The screen displays a message telling him he’s received twenty seven pictures. All from a contact named Salamanca brat . Nacho opens the first one and he can’t believe his eyes. It’s a picture of himself, standing naked and flexing in front of the mirror in his own bedroom. The next few pictures are of his dick. Some close-ups, some more holistic.
Okay, now he understands what girls mean when they complain about unsolicited dickpics. But it’s especially uncomfortable when it’s pictures of his own dick, though.
He keeps scrolling through the photos and soon enough there’s another one taken in the mirror. Of him on his knees with one of Jo’s dildos halfway inside his asshole. Despite the outrage and disgust and humiliation of seeing himself like that he can feel his - Lalo’s - cock twitch in his jeans. Faggot cock knows what it wants, apparently.
His first instinct is to just bash the phone against the wall, maybe break it in half and flush it down the toilet. His second is to keep going through the pictures. There are another couple of him taking the dildo, until all that can be seen of it is the pink suction cup that holds it to the floor. Then there are a few closeup shots of his wet, stretched asshole. It looks like someone has fucked him, even though it is obvious that it is lube and not cum leaking out of him.
Nacho isn’t sure what to do. Is…is this turning into a nightmare? He doesn’t understand what is going on. He’s had nightmares that have centered around being blackmailed before, about people knowing things he’s done that he’d prefer to forget. But it’s always been so abstract, so ‘I know what you did last summer’, never as concrete as getting sent nudes that he’s never even taken.
He clicks off the photo and finds he’s been sent a text message as well.
5.9 long 4.7 circumference.
What the. Fuck.
No. No, this just…it can not be a dream. What the fuck is going on? Why the fuck is he getting these weird text messages?
He clicks the call button on the phone.
“Yes?” someone says in his own voice.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He manages to keep his voice below a shout.
“N-Nacho?” responds the person on the other side.
“Yeah, of course it’s me, why the fuck are you sending me those pictures?!”
“I- oh, oh no, I- I- meant to send them to my phone but I guess- holy shit, I’m so fucking stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Ignacio, I didn’t mean to-”
“What the fuck is going on? Are you- you’re- you’re Lalo, right?” It is the only reasonable explanation and to be honest, who else would be horny enough to wake up in another man’s body and immediately jerk off to it? Oh…goddammit.
“Yes.” His own voice sounds meak when Lalo speaks in it.
Nacho grits his teeth, reaching up to rub at his eyes.
“You’re still in my house, right?”
“Mmh.”
“Stay there,” Nacho orders, “I’m coming to you. Where do you keep your car keys?”
*
The first thought that goes through Nacho’s head as Lalo lets him into his own home is that Lalo is much taller than him. Well he, in Lalo’s body, is much taller than Lalo, in his body. And Lalo cowers, defiling Nacho’s face with a look of shame.
They stare at each other for what might be several minutes before Nacho speaks up.
“I should kill you for that,” he hisses.
Lalo lowers his eyes. God, does Nacho really look like that when he grovels?
“Look,” he sighs, “just…let’s just get this over with, okay, I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life in your gross, old body.”
He’d thought about it in the car on the way over. Going through every nightmare scenario he could imagine. Lalo has his body , and everything that comes with that. His influence, his connection, his money. If they can’t go back Nacho will be stuck in Lalo’s one bedroom apartment being his servant for the rest of his life.
Lalo will probably get himself killed, too. It isn’t as easy to be a Salamanca as Nacho has made it out to be. You have to keep your shit together, keep appearances up. Lalo might think he knows most of their business but really, he has no idea. Competition is tough, whether among rivals, friends or family. ‘Ignacio Salamanca’ will get skinned and bled dry the second someone smells weakness on him.
And Lalo reeks of it.
“I don’t- I don’t know how this happened,” he mumbles as Nacho passes him, headed to the kitchen.
Lalo watches him make them coffee. Lalo really fucked up, didn’t he? How could he possibly be so stupid that he didn’t realize that Nacho would be in his body if he is in Nacho’s? God, what is he going to say when he finds out Lalo kicked his girlfriends out?
Nacho pours them both a cup. Without bothering to ask if Lalo wants anything in his, he takes them to the dining room.
Once they sit down he has a sip, wanting to avoid talking for a few more seconds. The coffee, the same coffee he’s been drinking for months, tastes different in Lalo’s mouth. Fuck, he hates it. It still tastes good but it’s just fucking weird. A little harsher, like he can’t taste the mellowed sweet notes of it any longer. On the other hand, he watches Lalo lick his lips and immediately have another sip from his cup.
“So. What did you do to make this happen?” Nacho asks as he puts his cup down. He watches his own face contort into an expression of insulted shock.
“I- I didn’t do anything!” Lalo huffs.
“Then why-” Nacho stops himself. If Lalo did something it was because he wanted this outcome. And if he wanted this outcome it was probably because he wanted to do what he had sent Nacho photographic evidence of him doing.
“Lalo. If it wasn't for our situation you would be hanging from your ankles with your severed dick in your mouth right now for what you did to my body.”
Lalo blushes, heavily. He is aware he is in a bad spot, entirely at the mercy of a Salamanca. It isn’t his fault his stupid gay heart is so utterly enamored with this one.
“So I suggest you think really fucking hard about what you might have done.” Nacho doesn’t bother to conceal his anger, watching Lalo shrink in his seat.
“I- look, I probably phrased it wrong, okay? I…” Lalo groans at his own inability to explain what he's done. “I made a wish. After I dropped you off last night I saw a falling star…”
“A- a falling star? Don't fuck with me, Varga.”
“A falling star! And I…I wished for something but I guess…I thought it would be awkward to wish for a chance to…you know…so I wished to be… inside of you for a night.”
“That's worse ,” Nacho spits before Lalo has a chance to lower his eyes again, “god, you're so…”
Now he is blushing too. At least he knows how they have ended up in this situation.
“I'm- I'm really sorry about the pictures,” Lalo mumbles as he reaches for his cup again.
“Forget them. You're gonna need a new phone, though.” Nacho bites his lip, thinking about the scattered pieces of the phone's plastic casing still lying on Lalo's coffee table. He'd deleted the pictures, then he'd taken it apart and smashed the circuit board. After that he had broken the memory card into as many pieces as he could, flushing a few of them, throwing some in the trash and the last two out of Lalo's window.
“I guess you want this,” Lalo sighs.
He reaches into his pocket to grab Nacho's phone and slides it across the table.
“I- I haven’t touched it since you called,” he promises.
That doesn't exactly put Nacho's mind at ease. It means he has to see the pictures again, if only to delete them. He groans as he flips it open.
The pictures aren't any less humiliating when seen on his own phone. They had probably been a bit compressed when they were sent to Lalo's because he could swear they are of higher quality now. Or maybe his screen is just better. Whichever it is it means he gets a better look at his own asshole stretched around a plastic dick.
“Did you- did you enjoy this?”
Lalo sits with his hands folded in his lap, glancing up when Nacho addresses him.
“Um…you- you've never done it?”
“What? Ew, of course not.” Nacho's finger hovers over the delete button as he looks at the photo of his own cock.
“I just- I mean you have the dildo? Sure, you're tight but-”
“Don't!” Nacho interjects. “Don’t fucking talk about my asshole!”
“Sorry, sorry!” Lalo's hands flies up as if he expects Nacho to throw something at him. “I’m just- yeah, it felt good.”
“I’m guessing you’re used to it,” Nacho mutters as he deletes the photo. He reaches for his cup again.
“It feels better in my own body,” Lalo admits before he can stop himself.
Nacho fixes him with a look as he has a drink of his coffee and Lalo can’t help but feel a little hot under his clothes. Sure, it’s his own face, his own eyes, but it’s very obviously Ignacio Salamanca’s stare.
“So what do we do now?” Nacho finally asks after a few moments of silence.
“I- I asked for a night …maybe we’ll be switched back tomorrow?” Lalo reaches up to scratch his mustache, surprised to find it so short. He isn’t entirely comfortable in Nacho’s body. It is weird to have to think about his movements so much, to suddenly have what used to be at chin-level at eye-level.
“Fuck me,” Nacho groans.
Lalo holds his tongue, despite the obvious layup.
“So…you’re not gonna…kill me because of the…?” he asks, nodding to the phone Nacho has left on the table.
Nacho looks like he considers it for a moment, then he chuckles.
“Am I gonna wake up with a sore ass tomorrow?” he asks.
“I know how to treat a virgin,” Lalo huffs. He smiles a little when Nacho rolls his eyes. “You know, you might wanna give it a shot, it did feel really good.”
Nacho shoots him a look that Lalo, for a moment, fears could kill him.
“I- I mean, if you wanna- I could- or- of course you don’t-” he’s not sure what to say, pinned to his seat and unable to take his eyes off his own face.
He watches Nacho lick his lips, clicking his tongue as he revels in Lalo’s embarrassment.
“You wanna fuck me,” Nacho finally says, ready to crush Lalo between his jaws after toying with him for long enough, “that’s why you made your stupid wish, so don’t try to pretend you don’t.”
Lalo swallows drily. He was hoping they would just skirt past that without fully acknowledging it. He anxiously reaches for his cup, having the last gulp of coffee as Nacho continues to talk.
“Does it…does it really feel that good?”
“Hm?” Lalo blushes, feeling a shiver travel down his spine.
Nacho sighs, reaching up to itch his nose. His hand blocks Lalo’s view of his mouth as he speaks.
“Look, I’ve fucked men before. I know how they sound when you get the angle right, but I don’t get it.”
“Do you…want me to show you?” Lalo asks after fumbling for Nacho’s intention for a moment. He’s still not sure he’s understood.
“You’d know your own body, right? You could…fuck me like this and…you could do it…right?”
Lalo feels like his body suddenly looses half its mass, like he could float up into the air and get stuck on the ceiling. He stares at Nacho without saying anything for longer than he should.
“Right?” Nacho reminds him, looking like he’s starting to regret mentioning it.
“I- I guess?”
The silence that follows is probably the tensest that Lalo has ever experience. Maybe even worse than the quiet that had filled their home for a week after his dad had caught him kissing another boy when he was in highschool.
Nacho finally lets out a soft chuckle. He turns his eyes away, looking down at his crossed legs.
“ Yes , I mean,” Lalo clarifies, feeling like he’s going for a hail mary, “I could make you feel better than you’ve ever felt before.”
“You can try,” Nacho grins slyly.
There is a very real challenge in his tone and Lalo has to grip onto the seat of his chair not to reach out for him across the table. The things he would like to do to this spoiled little brat of a boy. It’s such a pity Nacho is his boss.
He lets Nacho make the first move, watches him closely as he gets out of his chair and steps around the dining table. Maybe he looks his own body up and down as Nacho stands in front of him. Maybe the idea of fucking himself excites him a bit more than it should.
They end up in bed together, Nacho underneath him as they make out. Their clothes lay in a trail from the bedroom door to the bedside. Lalo runs his hands down his own sides, feeling his own erection press against his thigh. He pulls away and kisses a line down his own torso.
“Fuck, you gonna suck your own dick?” Nacho chuckles in Lalo’s voice when Lalo nuzzles his nose against the side of his cock.
Nacho’s laughter dies in his throat when Lalo takes it in his mouth. He struggles to take him fully, choking around him. He’ll need to get used to having a gag reflex again. Nacho’s fingers scrape over his head and it occurs to Lalo that he doesn’t have any hair.
“Just- mm… you gonna fuck my ass or not?” Nacho groans.
Lalo quickly finds the lube he’d left in the bedside table. Nacho rolls over on his stomach, spreading his legs a little to give Lalo a good look at his own ass. Before opening the bottle of lube Lalo grabs a a pillow, urging Nacho to lift his hips off the bed to squeeze it in underneath him.
Admittedly, Lalo’s ass looks good raised up in the air. He leans in and places a kiss on his own ass cheek. Nacho grumbles a little, shaking his ass as if to tell him to hurry up. Lalo bites his lip for half a moment before he makes up his mind. He reaches forward and grabs Nacho’s ass, spreading it wide before leaning in and putting his lips to his hole.
Nacho yelps quietly. He’s kept in place between the pillow and Lalo’s mouth. Lalo licks over his hole, knowing just how he usually likes it. He hopes it is gonna feel the same to Nacho.
“Ah- fuck, fuck , don’t- don’t put my tongue up your asshole,” Nacho mumbles as he pushes back against him.
It takes a few tries but eventually Lalo manages to work his tongue into Nacho, feeling him tighten down around it. He pulls away, hearing Nacho sigh in relief and disappointment at the same time.
“You have to relax. Take a few deep breaths, okay?” Lalo suggests, watching Nacho’s shoulders rise and fall with his breath as he gradually sinks into the mattress.
“You gonna put your fingers in me now?” Nacho asks. He sounds a little tired, as if he’s had a few drinks and needs to sleep the buzz off. Lalo guesses the experience is just a little overwhelming. God knows he feels like his brain has been fried after he’s had another man’s tongue in his ass.
“Not yet,” he smiles as he leans back in.
Nacho’s hole is a little more pliable this time, taking Lalo’s tongue as far inside as he can reach. Lalo tonguefucks his hole until Nacho’s toes curl and he arches his back just a little. It’s not perfect but it’s good enough to get him wet and ready for more.
Lalo covers his fingers in lube as he pulls away. He presses two against Nacho’s hole, knowing his body can take it. Nacho whines when they slip inside. It’s an amazing sight to watch his own body from this angle. He reaches down to take his - Nacho’s - cock in his hand as he pumps his fingers in and out of his own hole.
“Fuuuck, Lalo,” Nacho moans, pressing his face into the pillow. He rocks back against Lalo’s fingers.
A shout rings against the walls of the bedroom when Lalo curls his fingers, finding his prostate. He circles it, keeping the pressure light and teasing the way that always makes his eyelids flutter when he does it to himself. Nacho’s thighs shake a little, just enough that Lalo knows he’s on the right track.
When Lalo pulls out again to add a third finger Nacho immediately pleads with him to put them back in. He’s happy to oblige and Nacho gives him a reward in the shape of high-pitched moans every time he brushes over his prostate. Lalo watches him clutch at the sheets, trying to fuck himself on his own fingers.
He stops jerking himself off to put his hand on the small of Nacho’s back instead, pressing his thumb into his spine. Nacho’s feeble squirming and pleads for him to continue tells him his body is still the same body, still sending overwhelming waves of pleasure through the same nerves to the same brain. That could mean Nacho might be into some other things too, but Lalo won’t push his luck. At least not right now.
“L-lalo,” Nacho mumbles into the drool-stained pillow, “you’ll- you’ll have to teach me…how…”
“Shh, just relax.” Lalo can’t keep a smile off his face when he pushes against Nacho’s prostate again, spreading his fingers slightly to make sure Nacho could feel really full of them.
Nacho has to bring his hand up to his mouth, biting down on his knuckles in a failed attempt to keep himself quiet. He still is not used to Lalo’s body and the new sensations Lalo is inflicting on him are so unfamiliar he feels like he might as well be a completely different creature.
“Lalo,” he whines as he pushes back against his fingers, “please, Lalo, wanna- wanna feel your dick in me!”
His own voice sends a shudder through Lalo. It is embarrassing to hear it so clearly, to suddenly know exactly what he sounds like when he lays underneath another man desperate to be fucked. He has to bite his tongue not to say anything stupid.
Nacho wiggles his hips when Lalo pulls his fingers out of him, even rising to his knees to make sure Lalo can really see. It is enticing, the idea of fucking himself the way he likes to be fucked - face down ass up getting pounded until he is too out of it to remember any of his worries - but he doesn’t think Nacho will appreciate being mounted like a bitch and fucked until he cries.
“Turn over, I want your legs over my shoulders,” Lalo orders as he grabs Nacho to roll him onto his back. He throws the pillow over the side of the bed.
“You just wanna look at your own face,” Nacho huffs. He lifts his legs to place them on Lalo’s shoulders, looking his own body up and down between them. Lalo decides not to tease him back.
He has taken bigger cock’s than Nacho’s before, but he is jealous that Nacho will get to have his own cock before Lalo does. He wonders for a moment how many people Nacho’s had sex with. A little flare of jealousy warms his chest before he manages to tamp down on it. At the very least he will be the first to have sex with him like this .
Maybe it’s because Nacho is inexperienced and anxious, maybe it it’s because his fingers are thinner than Lalo’s own, but Lalo can swear his hole feels a little tight around Nacho’s cock when he pushes inside. He groans as he bottoms out, looking down to see a blank expression on his own face.
“How does that feel?” he asks as he runs a hand up Nacho’s chest.
“I-it’s good. Could you…could you start moving?”
Lalo can see him grasping at the sheets as he starts to pull back out. Nacho’s eyelids flutter and he sucks in a breath through his teeth when Lalo slams back into him. The slow pace has him whining a little and Lalo stops again to make sure he's okay. Nacho slaps at his chest and orders him to keep going.
Before long he can’t hold back any noise attempting to make its way up his throat. Lalo bends over him, pulling his legs down to wrap around his waist before he takes his face in his hand. He tilts his head back and starts kissing his throat, letting his teeth drag lightly over his skin.
“Fuck- fuck, fuck , Lalo!” Nacho howls. He reaches up to hold Lalo’s shoulders for a moment before his hands quickly run down Lalo’s sides.
Lalo can feel him exploring the expanse of his own muscular back. He wonders if Nacho is the type of man who would fuck himself if he could. Not to say that Lalo wouldn’t but in his case it’s not because he thinks he’s the most attractive man there is. As he has proven already, it’s because he knows how to fuck himself, he knows how to make himself feel good. Nacho doesn’t know, he wouldn’t fuck himself in hopes of the best sex he could ever have. He’d fuck himself out of curiosity. Or maybe he’d do it because the mere idea of sticking his cock in someone that pretty could make him come on the spot. Or perhaps Lalo is just projecting.
Nacho’s hands continue to fondle his own body and Lalo indulges him, flexing his muscles wherever Nacho touches. He smirks at him when their eyes meet and watches his own face turn bright red.
“Nothing to be ashamed of, you've worked hard for it,” Lalo reassures him, putting a hand over Nacho’s.
“Damn right I have,” Nacho huffs.
Lalo moans when he takes his nipple between his fingers. Lalo’s own aren't very sensitive, but Nacho's seem to be. He'll need to remember that.
“C'mon, viejo , use my body for what it's made for,” Nacho hisses as he tightens his legs around Lalo’s waist, “fuck me like you mean it.”
Lalo wants to throw caution to the wind. He doesn’t want to make Nacho regret telling him that, but at the same time, he can't imagine anything better than having him underneath him moaning uncontrollably as his body burns with pleasure.
He doesn’t speed up very much, just enough to get a few surprised groans out of Nacho before he adjusts to the pace. By that time Lalo has his hands pinned above his head, ready to fulfill his promise to make Nacho feel better than he’s ever felt before.
“Ah- ah- Lalo!” A few tears gather on Nacho’s lashes when he squeezes his eyes together.
“Is it good?” Lalo asks, still a little worried that Nacho might not actually like it.
Nacho just moans and squirms underneath him, held still at two points by Lalo’s hands around his wrist and by his cock fully sheathed in his ass. The rest of his body does its best to make up for it.
“Let’s see how loud you can get,” Lalo grins as he leans further over him to rest a bit more weight on his hands. He already knows he’s got the right angle when Nacho’s eyes roll back into his skull and his mouth falls open. When he quickens the pace further Nacho lets out a euphoric cry.
Seeing Nacho reduced to whining and babbling pleas for him to keep going, Lalo lets go of his wrists. He had a long-term partner a few years back, probably a decade ago, who'd figured out what he really likes. It has been a while since he's gotten to try it again, partially because they haven't seen each other since they broke up and partially because the whole cartel-thing makes it hard to be picky and demanding the way Lalo would like to be when looking for hook-ups.
Nacho's eyes, hazy and full of tears, follow his movements, but there is nothing he can do when Lalo grabs his legs to push them up against his chest. He can't move, especially not when Lalo wraps his arms around him. Lalo can taste the impending orgasm on his lips, feeling his nails dig into his biceps as he holds him tight.
“L-lalo-” Nacho sobs as Lalo keeps fucking into him. He squirms a little, too weak and desperate to try very hard.
Lalo hasn’t fully acknowledged how good it feels to use Nacho’s body. He is stronger that Lalo, able to hold him down and keep him in place without too much effort. The idea of reversing the roles risks sending his mind adrift.
“I'm- I'm coming- I'm fucking-” Nacho groans, scratching lines across Lalo’s back.
He lets out a strained whine, tensing up underneath Lalo. His cum lands between them, on both of their stomachs. Even when Nacho quiets down Lalo keeps going, leaning back a little to sneak a hand in between them to cup his balls. Nacho makes a face, gasping for breath.
Lalo hushes him. He kisses him again as he does his best to hold back his own orgasm. It isn’t easy, he thinks. He can't believe his own ass feels this good.
Before Nacho goes soft again, Lalo wraps his free hand around him, eagerly jerking him off as Nacho shudders. He seems to struggle with whether he wants him to continue or not but makes no serious effort to push him away.
Nacho sobs loudly as Lalo buries himself fully inside of him. He shivers allover as a second orgasm has him leaking in Lalo’s hand. Lalo bends down to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as he comes inside of him.
Lalo collapses into his armful, panting for breath as Nacho clings to him. They’re both damp with sweat and sticky with cum, but Lalo couldn’t possibly be happier. Eventually Nacho pushes him away and gets out of bed. He stops for a moment, thinking, before he turns back to Lalo.
“We gotta shower,” he says.
Lalo hums in agreement. He waits for him to leave, figuring he'll go once Nacho’s done. Nacho grabs the duvet, pulling it aside, and yanks on Lalo’s arm.
“I'm not waiting for your fucking ass juice to dry on my dick, c'mon!” He pulls on Lalo again, displeased with how weak Lalo’s body is compared to his own.
“Okay, okay,” Lalo mumbles as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.
Nacho's house probably has more than one bathroom, but Nacho doesn't mention it. He grabs Lalo again, stuffing them both into the shower cubicle once he's happy with the temperature.
The hot water pulls a yawn out of Lalo and for a moment he feels like he’s going to fall asleep. Then Nacho’s hands are on him, moving him into the corner. For a moment Lalo wonders if it's an attempt at romance. Then he opens his eyes and sees Nacho scowling at him.
“I'm not trusting you to clean my body,” he says.
When he grabs a bottle off the wall shelf Lalo realizes why; there's at least seven of them. None are in ‘girly’ colors either, so they have to all be Nacho’s.
Lalo lets him do what he wants. Maybe he enjoys it a little. It's not his fault Nacho has a weirdly specific shower routine.
Nacho gets down on his knees once he’s deemed Lalo’s torso to be clean enough. After he's cleaned Lalo's legs he points to a bottle that Lalo grabs for him. The packaging proclaims it as ‘intimate’ soap and before Lalo can think about what that means, Nacho’s hand is on his dick.
Even though he's soft, Lalo can't help but moan a little when Nacho pulls his foreskin back to clean him up. Nacho reluctantly glances up at him, as if warning him not to show his enjoyment too much. To Lalo’s surprise he can’t really help it. Nacho’s body isn’t that much younger than his own, but his dick isn’t bothered by how recently he’s come. The thought that that might be why he has three girlfriends passes through Lalo’s mind as Nacho sighs in annoyance.
For a moment Nacho pretends like he can’t see it, lathering soap between his palms. He slides his hands over the insides of Lalo’s thighs, forcing him to widen his stance a little as he presses two fingers against his asshole.
“Fuck, how are you still loose?” he grumbles, face turning a little red. It’s still too tight for his finger to push inside but there’s just a little too much give for Nacho’s comfort. Lalo moans.
Nacho reaches up and turns the water on, washing the soap off them. When he shuts it back off he’s still stood kneeling right in front of his own hard cock. The curiosity takes over before he can stop himself and he leans forward to take it in his mouth.
It’s clean, still tasting a little like the mild soap but mostly just like wet skin. It fits nicely in his - Lalo’s - mouth, and he finds himself able to take it quite deep. Lalo huffs and groans above him and Nacho is embarrassed to realize that’s probably what he sounds like when his girlfriends blow him.
Suddenly, Lalo’s hips jerk forward, pushing his cock fully into Nacho’s mouth. Nacho expects to gag on it, but finds that he doesn’t mind. He holds his own cock in his mouth, tentatively pressing forward until his short pubes tickle his nose. It blocks his airways and after a few moments he starts to feel lightheaded. Still, he doesn’t want to pull away, rocking his head back and forth to feel his own cock fill his throat.
Lalo moans above him, carefully putting a hand on his head to push him away when he starts to worry he’s going to suffocate himself. Nacho blinks at him when he comes off, eyes bleary and lips wet with spit.
“That- that felt so good,” Lalo pants, running his fingers through his own wet hair to keep it out of Nacho’s face.
“When we switch back…you’re gonna do this for me,” Nacho wraps his hand around him, “your throat’s clearly made for taking cock.”
Lalo isn’t given a chance to object before Nacho swallows him down again. His hand tightens in his own locks and he pulls Nacho down a little further. The feeling of his own mouth around him makes him want it just that much more. His stomach tightens at the thought of getting to suck Nacho’s cock when they finally switch back into their own bodies. He’ll have to do it a lot, he hopes.
“I….I, N-Nacho, I’m gonna- gonna come,” he stammers, steadying himself with a hand on the wall.
“You’re gonna do it all over my face,” Nacho orders, “gonna cover yourself in my come. I bet you’ll like that. You’ll probably jerk off thinking about it for the rest of your fucking life.”
Lalo can’t do much else than nod as his legs shake and he shoots a few ropes of cum over his own face. Nacho closes his eyes and holds his mouth open. He even holds his tongue out, just below his own cock as he jerks the last few drops out of him. Lalo stands breathless, watching him as he shows off the cum for a moment before he spits it out.
“ Fuck ,” Nacho mutters as he reaches up to turn the water on. He stays on his knees as he scrubs his face clean.
“Did you…did you mean that thing about making me suck you off when we switch back?” Lalo asks as he gets up on his feet.
“Why? You have a boyfriend who’s gonna be mad?” Nacho tilts his head to the side as he looks at him.
He has Lalo pressed into the corner of the shower still. The position would have been intimidating even if they were in their own bodies, but the fact that Nacho practically towers over him makes him feel all the more helpless.
“No, I just…” Lalo’s not sure how to say he would really like for Nacho to make his ‘threat’ into reality.
“You’re gonna suck me off whenever I want, I mean, you’ll have to, since you got rid of my girlfriends. You’ll be my new little fucktoy.”
“What? No! I- I didn’t-”
Nacho hushes him. “Their bags, their shoes, their jackets, all of them were gone and you thought I wouldn’t notice? What did you do to them?”
“I just…I gave them some money…told them to leave and not come back.”
“Or?”
“Or I’d…I’d kill them, I guess.”
Nacho shoulders shake as he laughs.
“Good thing you found a replacement for them.” He licks his lips as he leans in to kiss him.
Lalo stands frozen to the ground as Nacho’s hands run up and down his sides.
“You deserve this, though, for what you’ve done. You’ll teach me how to make myself feel that good and until then I’ll use you to satisfy myself. How does that sound?”
“Nacho…” Lalo mumbles as Nacho’s lips come to his neck, “it…it took me years to figure out how to- you know, I- I don’t think-”
“Think what? How old are you? You’ve got a few years still in you, right?”
Lalo worries he’ll pop another boner at the thought of being Nacho’s sextoy for the rest of his life. At the very least he feels a warm blush spread across his cheeks.
“Y-you’ll wanna use my mouth? Make me suck your cock?” he asks, already imagining himself bent over the gearbox in Nacho’s Javelin to take his cock to the base.
Nacho nods slowly, sucking on his tongue as he looks his own body up and down.
“Yeah, and I’ll make you lick my asshole like you did before, make you finger me until I come down your throat.” He smiles when he hears Lalo’s breath hitch. “Maybe, if you’re really good, I’ll tie you down and ride your dick. I’m sure I can get enough viagra to keep you going a whole night.”
Lalo nods. He’d agree to just about anything right now.
“Don’t forget your place, Varga. Or I’ll have to find someone else to entertain me. You’ve got a couple of cute guys on your crew.”
Nacho probably doesn’t intend to put images of himself getting bent over and used by just about every man he knows in Lalo’s head, but how was he supposed to know that’s where Lalo’s mind would go?
“By the way.” Nacho stops halfway out of the shower, looking back at Lalo over his shoulder. “No more ‘Nacho’. It’s Don Ignacio to you now.”