Chapter Text
Domingo was spending way too much time at Lalo’s house lately. Any time in the lion’s den was probably too much time, but he knew he wasn’t in a position to turn down the invitations. He was nervous at first. But after a few weekends of coke, liquor, and card games, he started to feel like maybe he was one of the guys. Plus, Lalo’s cushy McMansion was certainly more luxurious than Domingo’s current apartment.
This weekend’s card game was smaller than usual, but they had somehow gone through more bottles and baggies than ever. Lalo was feeling extra generous, apparently. Domingo had lost count after the fourth round of shots, but he always tried to go easy on the coke at these parties. He didn’t like feeling wired or paranoid around the other guys.
He felt himself sink deeper into the leather couch he was laying on. He slowly opened his eyes and looked down at his watch. 3:30 am.
Damnit, where did all that time go? He thought. He needed to get out of here soon. Most of the other guys had probably left by now. Domingo rubbed his eyes, wondering if it would be a terrible idea to call a cab to pick him up. Everyone else definitely seemed a lot more comfortable with drunk driving than him. But he didn’t think Lalo would appreciate him leaving his car in the driveway all night.
Domingo suddenly felt the couch shift beside him. He took his hands off his eyes, and looked over to see Lalo, who was pointing a remote at the TV. He used his other hand to place a half full glass of whiskey on the coffee table. Domingo sat up from the couch a bit, trying not to act like a lightweight. He marvelled at how high of an alcohol tolerance other guys had, especially Lalo.
“Had a nice nap?” Lalo said, still looking at the TV. Domingo didn’t remember falling asleep. He looked around the room and realized they were alone together.
Shit, is he gonna be pissed I passed out on his couch? Lalo didn’t seem mad, but he wasn’t an easy guy to read. Domingo had yet to see him really blow up at anyone or use the kind of violence his cousin Tuco had, but he definitely wasn’t as easy-going as he seemed. As much as Domingo might enjoy the partying, he had been snapped at by Lalo for much smaller offenses than sleeping on his boss’s couch
“Sorry, Lalo,” he’d learned to stop calling him Don Eduardo a long time ago. “I’ll head out.”
Domingo’s voice came out a bit raspy. He tried to get up from the couch quickly, struggling a bit to pull himself out of the deep wedge he’d formed in the couch cushions. Lalo had started playing some slow Spanish song on the TV now. He put the remote down on the coffee table and put his free hand on Domingo’s shoulder. It wasn’t forceful enough to physically keep him in place, but the gesture stopped him in his tracks.
“Relax, man. You’re not the first guy to crash here. You can stay and sober up a bit. You want some water?” Lalo sounded genuine, but Domingo didn’t know what to make of this situation. He would never imagine asking Lalo to fetch him a glass of water. He felt himself sinking back into the couch. Lalo kept his hand on his shoulder, waiting for an answer. Domingo nodded hesitantly. Lalo put his drink down and walked over to the kitchen.
Domingo shook his head, rubbing his eyes again. He needed to think clearly. He sat up again and looked towards the kitchen, the bright light made him realize how dark it was in the living room. The lights must have been turned off while he was asleep.
He could hear Lalo in the kitchen still, so he pulled out his phone to see if anyone had been texting him. He realized he had slept through quite a few messages from Nacho. He’d been asking him if he’d gotten home yet with an increasing sense of urgency as the texts went on.
Domingo frowned. Nacho usually didn’t act so concerned for his well-being. They hadn’t talked much at all since the time he came up short on his payment, and Nacho had dragged him into the kitchen of El Michoacáno.
He replied. Still at the house. Drank too much.
Nacho replied immediately. I’ll come pick you up.
Domingo quickly shut his phone as Lalo walked back into the room.
“Who were you texting?” Lalo asked, handing Domingo a glass of water.
“Nacho,” Domingo replied, taking a few gulps of water. “Offering me a ride.”
Lalo laughed. “He lives so far from your place. Tell Nacho I’ll just give you a ride in a bit.” He sat back down on the couch, noticeably closer to Domingo this time. “Just relax.”
Being told to relax was rarely relaxing for Domingo, but Lalo’s laugh somehow put him at ease. The slow music coming from the speakers, the alcohol still in his system, and the cold water down his throat were all helping too. He put his glass down and opened his phone again.
Lalo’s giving me a ride.
Bad idea. Let me drive you.
He frowned at his phone again. Before he had a chance to formulate a response, Lalo reached over and took the phone out of his hands. He leaned back on the couch and started casually scrolling through their conversation.
Domingo’s hands didn’t move for a moment, his reflexes still slowed by the alcohol. He looked over at Lalo, who was giggling at their messages.
“What’s he so worried about? Doesn’t he know to stay out of other people’s business?” Lalo shut off the phone’s ringer, then closed it and threw it onto the coffee table. “Ignacio is such a buzzkill,” he groaned.
Lalo took another drink from his glass, keeping his eyes on Domingo. He leaned back and placed his hand on Domingo’s thigh with all the confidence of someone in a long term relationship.
Domingo stared back at Lalo for a moment, just feeling confused. This wasn’t what he thought it was, right? He’d imagined these kinds of dynamics existed in the drug world, and had even suspected that Lalo might be gay. But he assumed someone so high up in an important family probably wouldn’t want those kinds of rumors out there.
Lalo’s hand crept further up his thigh, and he leaned in closer, one leg folded on the couch between them. Domingo’s mind felt hazier, struggling to keep up. His heart started hammering in his chest. Nacho was right, this was a bad idea.
Without thinking, he pushed Lalo’s hand off his thigh and jumped up. He turned towards Lalo, who seemed slightly taken aback.
“I think I’ll drive myself home,” Domingo’s voice sounded strange in his head. He turned on his heel, still unsteady. He went to take a step forward, but felt something tug on the back of his pants, and turned his head around.
Before he could react, Lalo yanked hard on his waistband. Domingo stumbled and fell back onto the couch, falling between his legs. He tried to sit up, but Lalo’s hand was already making its way up under his shirt.
“C’mon, don’t be like that, I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Domingo seriously doubted that.
He tried to pry Lalo’s hand off his chest, but it was no use, and his other hand was already working to undo Domingo’s belt. He started twisting to get out of his arms, eliciting a laugh from Lalo.
He finally stilled when he felt fingers reach his throat. Lalo was still being surprisingly gentle, just running his hand slowly over his neck.
“Are you still drunk, Domingo? I’ve never seen you act so feisty,” Lalo said, low in his ear. He went back to undoing his belt. Maybe Domingo could still talk his way out of this one.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, y’know, if someone were to find out-” his voice started to waver.
“Relax, no one’s found out so far,” Lalo said, taking his hand off Domingo’s neck and tracing his collarbones. Before he could dwell on the implications of the statement, Lalo’s other hand was down the front of his pants.
He heard a pathetic noise escape his throat as he started to struggle again. It was a much weaker attempt, just trying to keep Lalo out of his boxers. Lalo ignored him, slipping his hand under his waistband. Domingo realized with horror that he was somehow already getting hard. He pulled his hips back, only ending up wedged even further between Lalo's thighs. He felt the handle of Lalo's gun press into his back.
Lalo pulled his hand from Domingo's pants, and took the gun out of his waistband. He must have felt Domingo tense, because he laughed before tossing it onto the coffee table with a loud clatter.
“I said I wasn't going to hurt you. It's okay if you're nervous, but quit moving around so much”
“Lalo, I don’t think I want to do this,” Domingo whined, but made no effort to remove Lalo’s hand as it moved up his thigh again.
Lalo chuckled in his ear. “I got that impression. But listen, I’m not gonna make you do anything. I told you already, just relax. You want the rest of my drink?”
Domingo was feeling pretty perplexed. Lalo definitely struck him as the kind of guy who would expect reciprocation. What, he just wanted to give him a hand-job and then let him go? He turned down the drink, shaking his head as Lalo tried to hand it to him.
“Maybe you’ve had enough anyway, passing out on my couch like that,” Lalo put the glass back down on the table. “You looked so cute sleeping there. But I was nice enough to wait for you to wake up.”
He was wasting no time now that Domingo was being compliant. He shimmied his pants and underwear down just enough to leave him exposed. Domingo's breath hitched in his throat as Lalo started to stroke him slowly.
“I knew you'd be smart about this,” Lalo took his other hand out from under Domingo’s shirt and tilted his head to the side. He pressed a few kisses into his neck, eliciting a shiver. “Some guys, they forget their place. I gotta help them figure it out. But you're a good kid, Domingo, so I’m not expecting anything in return here.”
Lalo was certainly operating under some strange logic. Apparently, the actual reason Domingo wasn’t face first in the couch cushions right now was that he was too much of a pussy to provoke it. In some ways, getting fucked might actually be less humiliating than his current situation. More painful, sure, but at least he could tell himself that he fought back, and maybe he wouldn’t have started to enjoy it.
Domingo was definitely not inexperienced, he’d had plenty of girlfriends, and Lalo would sometimes even invite prostitutes to his larger parties. Those girls had also wrapped their arms around him and kissed his neck, but they didn’t seem to engulf him the way Lalo did. Their hands were much smaller and softer too, but Lalo touched him with the same level of gentleness. They smelled like cherry blossoms, Lalo smelled like whiskey and cologne. Something about him was starting to get to Domingo in a way he couldn’t put into words.
“See, pretty good, right?”
That was probably the worst part, he was good. Domingo was having a hard time biting his tongue now, breathing heavily as small noises escaped his throat. Lalo took Domingo’s chin in his hand, and turned his head to face him.
“Are you crying, Domingo?” His voice was full of fake concern, his other hand still stroking his cock. “I thought you were enjoying it.” He hadn’t realized he was crying. He tried to pull his face away, but Lalo held him still.
Lalo leaned in and kissed him on the lips. Domingo’s eyes widened and he tried to pull back, but Lalo grabbed the back of his head and kissed him again. He chuckled against his mouth as Domingo continued to resist.
Lalo broke the kiss, but kept Domingo’s face close to his. He took his hand off his cock. “What, you don’t like kissing? You want to use your mouth for something else?” Domingo shook his head frantically. “Then behave.”
Despite the threat, Lalo’s kiss was much gentler this time. He kept his hand on his head, but started to run his fingers through his hair. Domingo let his eyes shut as Lalo's hand returned to stroke him again.
Lalo was picking up the pace now. He was clearly very into the kissing. Still gentle, but greedy. It was dizzying. Domingo could taste the whiskey in his mouth now as Lalo began to make out with him.
After a moment, he broke the kiss, letting go of Domingo’s head. Domingo barely had a moment to breathe before he felt Lalo’s mouth on his neck again. He started sucking lightly in the crook of his neck. Domingo involuntarily winced away from the sensation, but knew better than to try and pull away.
Domingo was breathing heavily and his face felt hot and flushed. He gripped onto the fabric on Lalo’s thigh, and realized with panic that he was getting close to coming. How could any of this possibly be doing it for him?
“Lalo, stop, I-” he felt like he could barely speak now.
Without warning, Lalo bit down hard on Domingo’s neck, pushing him over the edge. He came hard, whining in pain, and his load fell onto his stomach. Lalo took his mouth off his neck, seeming surprised, and Domingo’s hands flew up to cover his mouth. What the fuck was that?
Before either could speak on the matter, there was a loud knock at the door.