(spoilers! Do not read before Guns n’ Boys Book 6)
Miguel’s heart beat fast yet steady. The sneakers he was wearing made barely any sound as he skirted along the wall, delving deeper into the innards of Toro’s disgustingly opulent house. The farther away he got from the windows, the darker it was, with the electricity turned off, but his eyes had already adjusted to it. A series of rounds from a machine gun tapped a rhythm somewhere far away from the building, and he froze, listening for any sounds nearby, any footsteps, breath, or voices.
There were none.
Dom had been quite detailed in his instructions, and as Miguel moved up the stairs, into an elegant corridor with guest rooms, he immediately went for the one in the back. The one where the freak would be hiding away, far away from the danger that had no meaning to him personally. Miguel knew men like Nero Moreno, and he was positive Nero would not risk his neck for someone else’s benefit.
Miguel kicked the door open, with the gun firmly planted in his hand, but he couldn’t spot anyone in the darkness mildly lit up by a small screen. Muted sounds were coming from the same source. He didn’t recognize them at first, but when he focused on the small laptop on the bed, his blood froze. Porn. Gay porn. Moaning, panting and the slapping of skin against skin that made Miguel’s skin crawl and his balls climb closer to his body.
Blind fury coursed through his veins, melting all the ice, and he shot the damn thing. It shattered into pieces and even fell to the floor. Miguel let out a satisfied huff when the sound died, but peace didn’t last long. Something dropped on top of him, heavy, hot, and breathing. Strong hands grabbed his wrists, keeping his hands stretched out as they both crashed to the floor. The heavy sack of skin, bones, and firm muscle squashed Miguel against the wooden panels with such finality that for a moment his head spun, neck aching as if it were on the verge of snapping and silencing him forever.
Miguel screamed out when the man twisted his hand back, taking away the gun that still smelled of gunpowder. He tried to turn the tables by using his superior body weight, but something slammed against the back of his head, sending his forehead against the floor so hard he saw galaxies far away.
He yelped, scrambling to twist around and throw off his opponent, but it was no use, the fucker was strong and Miguel’s head was spinning after several hits. Three deep breaths later, he was still alive, which did count as a win in his book.
The sense of relief was cut short when the cold steel of the gun pressed against the crook between his ear and jaw, and then something rubbed against his buttocks through his jeans.
“That was mine,” whispered Nero.
Miguel froze to the floor, wishing he could melt into it instead. His mind became a tumble of memories he wished would never surface again, but he had to fight the impending nausea, gather his thoughts. He was still alive and didn’t have a death wish just yet. Not before Raul Moreno died.
“W-what?” he choked out with such emptiness in his head he couldn’t think straight. Had he been caught by Nero? Again? How even…? Did Nero… jump him from a wardrobe?
Nero’s thick fingers sank into Miguel’s hair and twisted in it, pushing Miguel’s cheek against the wooden panels even harder while the gun slowly trailed up, with the muzzle pushing against the inside of Miguel’s ear. “The computer. Are you here to help me relieve the tension in place of the movie?”
Miguel’s stomach clenched, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get his erratic breathing under control. He was now getting a glimpse of Nero, but he wished he didn’t because the man was naked save for all the caimans on his skin, and he sported an erection that so insistently kept reminding Miguel of its presence that answering was becoming too difficult.
“Like father, like son,” he rasped and clenched his teeth. If this were to be his end, he would not just take it.
Nero hummed, staying still, as if he were watching Miguel. “What is going on down there? Someone let you out?”
Right. This was an advantage. Nero might have no idea what was truly going on. It had to be the case if he was sitting in his room and jerking off instead of fleeing like the rat that he was.
“Why don’t you go out and check? Or better yet, shoot me, and see what happens then.” Miguel attempted to make it sound like a threat. He might still get this situation under control.
Nero exhaled, but just as Miguel expected the gun to go off and fill his skull with fire, Nero only rocked his hips against his buttocks. “Those are hard as chestnuts,” he said.
Only now Miguel realized he was clenching his ass and silently swore at himself. He was a grown man, and he would not be intimidated this way.
“Go hump a donkey!”
Nero snickered and tugged on Miguel’s hair even harder. “I don’t enjoy them that hairy. I like how fierce you are. A shame we didn’t get to fuck when we didn’t yet have all this bad blood going on. Is your cock as hard as those buttocks?”
Miguel had to force his brain to reconnect with that part of his body to make sure what was going on. No. Soft as cotton. “I would never fuck you. Why are we even having this conversation?”
Nero sighed. “Such a pity. We don’t have time for this now. I need to dress.”
Miguel stayed silent. This would be his moment to overpower the bastard. He would look for an opening and strike when least expected.
“Do not try anything, Miguel,” Nero said, moving the barrel of the gun to the back of his head. “Or I will shoot without hesitating. If you think this is the first time someone tried to kill me, think again.”
Miguel swallowed. “Just get your fucking dick off me already.” He would aim for distraction, pretending that this wasn’t a life and death situation just yet.
“Remember, Miguel. If you want to leave this house alive, do as I say. Are we clear?”
Miguel gave a curt nod. This was bullshit. How could he possibly have gotten caught by this fucker twice? The shame of it was burning Miguel’s insides. “Stop saying my name.” How did the bastard even remember it?
Nero laughed and slowly rose from Miguel’s back, still keeping the muzzle pressed hard against Miguel’s head. There was no room for risk yet. “It’s your own fault. You’ve made quite an impression with that face, and that hot accent,” Nero said, as if they were flirting.
As much as Miguel hated the idea, maybe flirting back could get his hands closer to Nero’s neck? Could his pride stand it though? He slowly rose to a kneel when Nero instructed him to, and at least Nero was behind him with all that predatory body. “Maybe we should be friends then after all?” The words barely managed to roll off his tongue. No. This was pathetic. He couldn’t do this. Saying things like that to another man made his skin crawl and his breath quicken. Never in his life had he flirted with another man. He’d allowed himself the indulgence of rubbing cocaine into Seth’s gums, but that was that. It had already awoken too much of a hunger back then.
“Go to the chair in the corner. Pick up my underwear and hand it to me,” Nero said calmly.
Miguel groaned, embarrassed by his own earlier attempt at flirting back. Maybe it was for the better that it got ignored. He got up slowly, not to provoke Nero’s trigger, and walked over to the chair, only now getting to grips with the humiliation of what he was doing. Underwear? Seriously?
“By the way, Miguel, I am perfectly fine with becoming friends as long as that friendship entails your dick in my mouth.”
The answer threw Miguel so off balance his fingers hovered over the neon green boxer briefs with an orange waistband that said ‘JUICY’. He looked over his shoulder, only to be reminded that Nero was naked, and still sporting a hard-on, so he was quick to get his eyes back on the underwear.
Miguel licked his lips, trying not to imagine the spiky teeth in Nero’s bottom jaw digging into his cock. Or would it feel nice? Would they drag along the ski— No. They’d fucking chew his dick off. “Maybe stop pointing your gun at me, and we’ll see what can be arranged.” Miguel sneered to himself. Wrong. Too fast.
Miguel turned around with the underpants in his hand, bracing himself to face Nero. Now that he was forced to look at the man naked, the difference between his broad, strong shoulders and narrow, wiry hips was striking. Miguel tried to ignore the flesh-eating caimans tumbling all over Nero’s skin, but unwilling to appear frightened, he glanced into the pale eyes instead as he slowly made his way across the room.
Nero smirked. “You didn’t come here for a blowjob. No chance until you become more agreeable.”
“Maybe I was attracted to the sound of gay porn?” As far from the truth as humanly possible, since he wanted to retch at the memory of those moans.
Did Nero make his pecs twitch?
“Did you see what they were doing?”
“What?” Miguel frowned. Was he so distracted because Nero had slammed his head against the floor?
Nero’s green gaze took him in with such intensity as if the man attempted to suck out his soul. “A hot guy in a sling and five cocks pounding him one after another. I can imagine that was a major distraction.”
The thought of penetration made Miguel both uncomfortably tense and sent a small jolt of arousal down his body. The last thing he needed or wanted. He wouldn’t shy away from Nero’s gaze though. That would have been a sign of weakness.
So Miguel looked on. Took in the sight of all that tattooed muscle, but he wouldn’t let his gaze slide any lower than the navel.
“Kneel,” Nero said.
Miguel’s body went rigid. “I’m not sucking your dick, motherfucker.” There were limits. He would not be fake-flirting anymore. He was done with this bullshit.
Nero’s brows shot high up his forehead. “Someone has a dirty mind. Put my boxers on for me.”
“Are you shitting me?” Miguel could hardly hold back a snarl, but Nero’s eyes turned cold, and he gently moved the gun, wordlessly ordering Miguel to follow instructions. No matter how much he hated the bastard, Miguel went down to his knees with the boxers in his hand, promising himself that Nero Moreno would pay for this humiliation.
He looked up the finely sculpted chest, but the closeness of Nero’s genitals, the musky scent of them, was already making him so uncomfortable he didn’t trust himself to speak. Nero shrugged, pointing the gun straight at Miguel. There was no doubt whatsoever he was not playing around and meant what he said earlier about shooting Miguel’s brains out at the merest sign of disobedience.
“Go on. Chop chop. We don’t have all night for this foreplay.”
The heat gathering in Miguel’s head was making it hard to breathe, so he settled on quickly proceeding to let Nero step into the underwear. The position he was in made every inch of his skin burn with rage. He would not look at the fucking thing between Nero’s thighs as he tried to be quick with pulling the boxers up Nero’s legs, but then something brushed against his forehead. Hot and slippery.
Miguel fell back to his ass before he could think, letting go of the underwear and looking up with crisp, scorching panic filling his veins at the sight of a large metal ring piercing the cockhead. Nausea rose in his throat, and he couldn’t help the tremble assaulting his fingers.
Nero’s chest sagged when he exhaled, making an impatient gesture with his free hand when another series of gunshots erupted somewhere outside. “Stop being a fucking man-baby. I’m a bottom, so just get on with it.”
Miguel gave himself two seconds to collect himself off the floor. He’d never wash this humiliation off his skin. At least there was no one else to witness it. With the ring at the head and its stiff, engorged form, Nero’s cock looked like a weapon prepared for use. Miguel was glad to see it disappear under the green cotton. What he didn’t expect though, was the static electricity snapping his fingers where they just-barely met Nero’s ass.
He watched on, shocked as Nero cocked his hips slightly, which made the fabric stretch against the still-stiff cock inside. “See? There’s a spark between us.”
Miguel hoped his gaze communicated all the hate that he felt right now. For Nero, for all the Morenos, and for that piece of him that actually craved to just fuck his pain away and forget everything. No. He didn’t want to communicate that part.
Nero chuckled, but not for a second did he lose focus. “Now, go get my jeans and let’s go find your cousins.”