Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127201 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He only hoped the missionary extravaganza at the cemetery would not fuck up his tattoos.
Miguel rinsed his mouth but stilled when he reached for the towel hung behind Nero. “Fuck! No. Oh, fuck. Why didn’t you say I was hurting you? Jesus Christ.” He wet the towel and dabbed it on Nero’s stinging flesh.
"It’s no big deal. Just some scratches.”
Miguel shook his head with a frown, working his way over Nero’s back with the towel. “I hope my dick was worth it,” he grumbled.
Nero grinned and wiggled his brows at him in the mirror. “Come on, I was so into it I didn’t realize I was getting scratched. Don’t be so serious,” he said and spun around to kiss Miguel with his equally minty lips. He then put his toothbrush back in to distribute the paste over his spiky teeth.
Miguel sighed, moving his hand to Nero’s hip. “I just… I want you to be safe and happy. Do your teeth hurt a lot?
Nero hummed, brushing their sensitive edges but eventually nodded, because they were often sensitive to the point of distracting him when it was inappropriate.
“I’m sorry,” Miguel said and kissed his nape. “They did save us from a Caiman serial killer though.”
The tenderness made the hairs on Nero's arms stand to attention.
Nero spat out the foam and washed his face, sinking deeper into dark thoughts involving a reality where he’d been too late and found Miguel’s body cooling on top of that empty tomb. He needed to make sure that would never happen. Miguel claimed he didn’t know how to live, but Nero would teach him.
They each took a brief shower in the small stall at the back of the bathroom, but once Nero was dry, all he wanted was to roll onto the beds Miguel had pushed together in the meanwhile. “I was thinking—”
“Yeah?” Miguel asked, so beautiful in his nakedness Nero eagerly sat in his lap. The pressure of warm flesh against his hole made it feel tender, but he relished the sensation every time he remembered the storm of emotion passing through him as they’d fucked.
“Your mom. You still haven’t contacted her.”
“Oh.” Miguel’s shoulders sagged, and he hugged Nero, placing his cheek against Nero’s pec. “I’ve been thinking about it, but I just don’t know how to approach it. I wasn’t sure what would happen once we got to Lima, so I kept putting it off.”
Nero picked up a black marker from the nightstand and opened it, looking for a bit of empty space between the tattoos on Miguel’s shoulders. “And now?”
Miguel didn’t question Nero sliding the felt tip of the marker over his skin and even moved his head to the side to give Nero's hand more room. “Now I have you, and you don’t actually intend to start fucking your way through the locals, so… I don’t know yet how to introduce the subject of you. Let’s just say, I haven’t been very kind when I told her about you before.”
Nero stilled, pulling the marker away from skin to keep it from making too big of a dot. “You told your mom about me? Aww.”
Miguel slid his hands to Nero’s buttocks, kneading them softly. “My contact with her was sporadic, but I shared very little, she already hated the Caimans, and you have them etched all over your skin. If we ever go back to my hometown, she’ll know who you are.”
“Oh? And where is home?” Nero asked, returning to the little parachuter coming into existence in confident strokes of the marker.
“Giro. Not far from the US border. Not exactly a paradise for gay men.”
The name rang a bell, but it wouldn’t have been the first time a town shared its moniker with many others. “What’s gonna be worse? The gay thing or the Caiman thing?” Nero asked, trying to hide a growing sense of unease. Maybe he shouldn’t have reminded Miguel about his mom? Because if they moved there, what would his life become in a place that hated his kind and where he couldn’t possibly melt into the crowd? Would Miguel even come out to his mother, or keep Nero as his friend, only allowing himself gestures of tenderness behind closed doors?
“I know,” Miguel said despite Nero not uttering a word. “The situation’s far from perfect, but I lost so much family that I don’t want to discard the one living relative I have.”
“Maybe we could… live someplace else and just visit her from time to time?” Nero asked.
When Miguel looked up at him, his eyes shone with vulnerability. “I still can’t quite understand that there’s a future for me now. At some point, I stopped thinking about anything beyond Raul Moreno’s death, and now, I guess I’m… a little lost.”
Emotion squeezed Nero’s chest, and he pulled Miguel’s head close. “That’s okay. You’ve been through a lot. And I—I shouldn’t have pushed you earlier. From now on, we’ll take things at your pace, okay?” he asked as the terrible memories Miguel had told him about stabbed his abdomen like poisoned needles.