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Warning: Slight Non-Con. (It's up for debate where it lands on the non-consensual scale, but it's there.)


by sistersleep

The first time Miguel hit him, it was hotter than his kiss. More intimate. Miguel's lips, his hands, his dick -- there was no emotion for Torquemada behind them, no connection. But Miguel's fist...that was pure passion. He'd finally given Torquemada a real part of himself.

Anger and disgust...for Torquemada, for himself. Fist smashing Alonzo's face with inescapable emotion. His love was a boxer. His love hated him. Hated his own life, and this was proof that Torquemada was a part of it now. He'd finally gotten under Miguel's skin.

The sex, that was a haze, an escape completely contained in Miguel's head. Alonzo wasn't really allowed in. Miguel's eyes full of sadness, looking right through him, didn't see him at all.

But when he'd made Torquemada bleed, he meant it. It was the truth, and Alonzo cherished that as much as any caress. Those eyes had finally focused on Torquemada. Alive and here.

He'd pushed and pushed until he got a reaction.

Now he just had to keep it alive and directed at him.

It had started with...nothing. It wasn't the trigger that mattered, it was the build. And Miguel had been building towards an explosion for a long time. He could only play dead and numb for so long. Torquemada had been worried that the spark he wanted he was gone.

That fist and those vivid eyes were a sight to behold. A reawakening.


The night had been mostly the same at first. Always was. Long day of buzzers and business, Miguel floating in a haze at his side. Lockdown. Light's out.

"You're certainly tense tonight." Alonzo remarked, amused, as Miguel paced after the lights went out.

Miguel had spent the hours until then leaning on the glass, restless and staring. Miguel watched Emcity, while Alonzo reclined on the top bunk and watched him.

He hadn't seen Miguel restless like this in a long time. He wanted to soak up that energy. Miguel had been a shadow, losing himself in popped pills because he hadn't been able to bear the fight anymore. Coma or death? Alonzo was starting to see a renewed pulse, buried there.

"You have a bad day, my love?" Mild inquiry, Alonzo showed concern in his voice. He didn't like anyone messing with Miguel, not even Miguel himself. On the other hand...if the bad days were finally getting through again, bringing a spark back, Alonzo had new appreciation for them.

"Stop fucking calling me that shit." Miguel countered gruffly, his strides bringing him beside the bed.

Miguel still didn't get it, didn't believe, didn't understand. Alonzo gracefully hopped out of the bed, landing close. Watching for a flinch, he was met with nice hard stone that didn't back away, even as his close presence was obviously undesired.

"I say it because it's true, I love you." It wasn't some weighty declaration, just a simple statement said with a shrug.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Those eyes focused on him, finally, with the words, tone carrying the slice of warning.

Torquemada loved plowing through Miguel's warnings just as much as he liked slithering around them and defeating them. He decided Miguel's tension meant he should pick the harder way this time. Pick a fight.

He'd been watching this energy build. So slow, over time. Until even the D-tabs couldn't reign it in anymore. It was Miguel's need for rest, for oblivion, that had let Torquemada catch him, but Alonzo knew it wasn't the same as having everything he loved about Miguel, everything Alonzo wanted to have of his -- all that burning, painful strength -- alive and well.

Maybe his Miguel was done with numb escape now and it was time for something new. Alonzo was not going to let Miguel leave him behind, though, oh no. He would change, be whatever Miguel needed, even if what he needed was something to hate, something to destroy. Something he could fight against and actually defeat. So he could regain some sense of control.

The trapped always needed something to lash out at. Something to keep their fight alive. The only time they stopped needing that was when the were defeated, dead inside...or actually happy. And there was no happy here without chemicals and altered reality.

"Do you really want me to shut up, or are you wanting me to do something more pleasant with my mouth?" Brazen proposition, just like always.

"I don't like anything you do with your mouth. Ever." Miguel declared coldly. A little of that zombie still lurked in his voice.

Alonzo decided it was time to shock it back to life. Miguel was ready, the itch was obvious under the skin. Miguel couldn't abide the fog any longer, as much as he wanted to stay there where it was easier.

"Mmm...you're lying, Miguelito." Miguel hated being called that, and Alonzo usually avoided it. It wasn't his endearment, it was an old wound he had noticed. Rare times he liked to pick at it, make it bleed. Like now. "Do you think I go deaf when I go down on that hot little cock of yours? I hear you begging for it."

Mostly a lie. Miguel made lovely noises, yes, but they lacked real passion. And he never begged. Too good for that. Hated Alonzo too much. But he knew what to say to piss Miguel off.

Miguel backed up a step, face setting into the tough denial of stone.

That's when Alonzo really saw it. Violence. Passion. Emotion. All hiding there. Sleeping, not dead, after all.

"I've never begged for shit from you."

Now, that was a lie too. Miguel had never begged in words maybe, but his need had called out to Alonzo just the same.

Alonzo could be polite and overlook this, not point it out. But he wanted to see what that tension would do when it snapped. He wanted to make Miguel do *something*.

"We both know that's a lie, sugar. You need me. More than you need my D-tabs. You want me here." He held that gaze, speech equal to all the cocky ego and confidence Alonzo had wanted to taste, to be, when he first saw the ghost of it living in Miguel.

It was around then that Miguel snapped and swung that glorious fist right at his provocative mouth.

Beautiful connection, slamming into him with heat and pain.

He was strong enough that he didn't go down. He'd been braced for it for a long time, too. His head just snapped cleanly to the side. And he laughed. Joyfully.

No more punches followed. The tilt of Alonzo's gaze, face still stinging wonderfully from his boy's passion, showed him that Miguel had backed off further. Surprised at what he'd done. Trying to reign himself in. Thrown and falling like he'd been that first night, just in a completely different way. A phoenix rising in flames from cold ash.

Alonzo looked up, delicately touching the corner of his mouth. Wet. Miguel had broken the skin. Alonzo stared at the smudge of blood on his fingertips, smile forming on his lips. The sting brought by the movement of his lips was an immediate reminder. His memento.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" The words left Miguel's stunned lips at seeing his grin.

"You want to hit me, sugar? Do it." Alonzo said confidently. Now was no time to back down. He was finally getting what he really wanted. "I want all of you." He reached out to stroke Miguel's face with red stained fingers.

Miguel flinched away, eyes tinged with horror and disgust.


He could tell that Miguel thought that he was a masochist, that he got off on the pain. The revulsion was there in Miguel's eyes. But that wasn't it at all. He had no preference for the pain. It was the emotion behind it.

He'd made Miguel feel something.

He would have preferred that Miguel love him, touch him and feel it pulsing in his veins, but that was not to be. Miguel would never kiss him and mean it like he did that punch. And Alonzo was fine with that. He had no choice but to be.

You couldn't make someone love you, but you could make them feel *something*. Even if it was hate and disgust. Negative emotions could carry the same strength as positive ones. All just different types of passion. It was the passion that mattered, whatever forms it took. Anything that would keep Miguel tied to him, keep him in Miguel's head, make Miguel see him. Keep him near. Let Alonzo have a piece of him. Alonzo wanted nothing more than that.

Fire -- life -- sparking in those big brown eyes just for him. Beautiful. So fascinating and glorious that Alonzo wanted to fall to his knees right that second and take Miguel into his mouth. Inside of him.

He didn't think Miguel would be amenable to that at the moment. It might earn Torquemada another punch.

That was almost enough to make him do it. Alonzo carefully considered whether that would push Miguel too far, locking his amused eyes with Miguel's eyes of fire. He weighed it...realizing they were locked down and Miguel couldn't run from it even if he wanted to. By the morning...who knew what things would look like, his immediate disgust and rage would've cooled. Such was the way of his Miguel. Miguel couldn't keep the fire alive on his own anymore; that was why he'd turned to Alonzo in the first place.

Alonzo was close enough to losing him anyway, whatever he did now wouldn't matter.

Alonzo stooped with grace, keeping his eyes locked on Miguel, watching that disgusted anger lacing finely with confusion...

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Alonzo bit back his smirk and just basked in that heat. His Miguel was repeating himself again. Alonzo just moved into that heat, eyes closing with it, head dipping to nuzzle --

-- head and neck suddenly grabbed in a painful grip, shoved and held away, that focused force pulling his gaze back up. Alonzo reached up and locked Miguel's restraining wrists in his own strong grip. Stared with his intent, all his feeling, until he felt Miguel shudder. That was probably disgust as well.

"Get the fuck away from me." The demand was as low and even as that stone face, as Miguel moved back, his harsh grip leaving Alonzo.

But Alonzo didn't let go, holding tight and turning Miguel's restraint against him. "Where do you want me to go, my love?" He gave a wry glance around the trapped dimness of the pod.

His clench on wrists turned into a struggle at the words, clashing strength bringing Miguel to his knees as the other man tried to break free, off balance and worked up with that confused anger. Torquemada just held on, powerfully lean muscle flexing under his grip, as Miguel shoved him back. Colliding with the cold stone, Alonzo was thrown on his back on the floor. Alonzo's hold on him dragged Miguel along with him, until his hold broke with the impact.

Miguel was still glorious, filled with all that *emotion*, looming over him, crushing his arms into the ground. Holding him there.

"Fucking stop! I don't get off on your twisted shit." The steadily vehement words were thrown at him.

But Miguel didn't move away, just gusting hot heavy breaths across Alonzo's face with the hiss of the words. Oh, his poor boy was so trapped. That bruising grip on Alonzo's arms didn't back off, not matching its owner's words.

Miguel missed having passion too.

And Torquemada gave him everything he could, gave it back with the same force, echoing and feeding on Miguel's fire. Even if it wasn't the kind of passion and connection either would have preferred.

They were stuck in that stalemate of Miguel's disgust at what he had come to. His repulsion always holding him just an inch away from Alonzo. Like that first time, when he had smoothed the path with honey words, promised relief, and D-Tabs. Torquemada had to drag Miguel over the line to giving in.

Alonzo's struggle died, as he went purposely lax under Miguel's hands...and that calmed things just enough for Miguel to relax his grip at the lack of resistance--

--Surging up, Alonzo took advantage of it. Unexpected and with matched strength, renewing the fight for who would regain control. It was tipped in Alonzo's favor by that surprise, as he switched their position. Tackling Miguel to the ground with it, pressing him back until he was the one trapped.

Torquemada had the advantage now, using everything to keep Miguel pinned, his steal grip trapping strong arms this time. His body weight crushing that writhe.

And this was not his love's idea of foreplay, so Miguel's body went defiantly stiff. Hard as stone, calming that writhing chaotic struggle into pure concentrated resistance. He was readying to buck up, try to throw Alonzo off.

But Alonzo knew Miguel's body better than his own. He rubbed down into heat, friction all along that tight strain, feeling the tension and the fast rise and fall of rushed breath. Miguel stopped any sign of struggle completely with it. Going still as death.

"Stop." Danger sparked in Miguel's voice, rough and deep.

But Alonzo never stopped. If he played things that way, he wouldn't have gotten Miguel in the first place.

Every second with his love was a fight. One he was drawn into. Playing with fire. A moth to flame.

All Alonzo wanted was that heat he didn't have within himself. To be consumed by it.

The two of them together.

Alonzo shifted, careful not to give Miguel the option of escape, taking that hard decision away from him. Giving Miguel what he needed, without making him ask. Didn't want to make Miguel have to take it. He wasn't in that place.

Alonzo pressed one long arm across Miguel's collarbone to hold him down. Bruising strength to hold him in place, to give Alonzo a free hand.

Heavy steady breath under his forearm, holding carefully against the resistance of muscle and bone. Cloth sliding under his other hand. Touch just firm enough to matter. Wouldn't be ignored.

Shiver against his palm, sliding up the inside of Miguel's thigh, body trapped between Alonzo's legs.

Those eyes burned into him. For him. Pure and focused.

Cupping Miguel, limp in his hand, not looking away for a second.

He wasn't hard. No, this was not his boy's idea of foreplay, at all. But Miguel still wanted to feel. Needed Alonzo to make him. Miguel stayed still, except for that delicious tremble along their bodies. Disgust, maybe.

Need, definitely. Made clear by the lack of struggle, by all that blistering focus. All the times Alonzo had been permitted to take that cock in his hand, in his mouth, deep inside, Miguel had never *looked* at him like this.

This was different. Miguel was here. Fully present. He could feel *this*, with no Mardi-Gras or numbness in his head.

Which was why he was fighting. Struggling with himself. But struggle was just a promising sign of life to Alonzo.

Massaging the worn cloth, wanting what was underneath, feeling Miguel come to hardness in his hand automatically. Miguel knew how good he could feel. Wanted it. Miguel's lips parting with his breath as he responded against his will.


Pain and desire roiling in those deep brown eyes. Right there.

All for him.

The crush of Alonzo's arm slipped, letting up, couldn't help it when those hips shuddered up into his touch.

Miguel was here. With him.

Miguel's fuel was the desperate need to feel, anger, and loathing, fighting himself and the world, but Alonzo didn't care as long as he could feel that burn.

Miguel didn't shove him off when Alonzo's restraining arm slipped away. Stroking hardness through his pants, running a hand down his side, taking him all in slowly. Worship that always made Miguel glower, but that he couldn't turn away from anymore.

Miguel's touch was harsh. Sparse. But it was there. That was all that mattered. Feeling as hot and lovely as anything gentle and caring would have. The hard grasp around his bicep, the dragging clench of fingers across Alonzo's shoulder.

Alonzo pushed Miguel's shirt up and out of his way to taste skin. Learning what this body was like when it was really alive. Alonzo's own hard ache was ignored, feeding on Miguel's heated twitch under his hand instead. Salt and sweat on his tongue. In his mouth. The accompanying coincidental brush of his own dick against that body as he slid down was just an echo.

Hips pressing up into him. Strong grip on the back of his head. Cock chasing the sensation in his mouth. He let it slide over him, swallowing Miguel, fire and all.

Eyes kept open through it all to see the glimpses of heat and strain.

The ragged groan that wasn't his name was for him anyway, and it was all he could ever want.

* End *

Translation: "hermoso" = beautiful
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