Title: The Touch of His Hand - Part 2
Beta: ozsaur, my hero and shit
Pairing: Alvarez/Maritza, Alvarez/O'Reily
Spoilers: None as of yet; eventually, through Season 4, episode 7: Secret Identities
Summary: Miguel Alvarez spends the night in the Infirmary, as he tries to sort out his mind and emotions.
Word Count: 1886 words
Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, not making any money off 'em. Dern it.
You can find Part One here: The Touch Of His Hand
Alvarez awoke slowly, by degrees. He heard sounds: the ticking of a clock, someone else’s breathing, an odd mechanical whirring. The sharp scent of rubbing alcohol combined with that crap they'd used to clean his head wound filled his nose. The air didn’t smell like what he was used to, the closed-in smell of men’s bodies and old sweat. He opened his eyes, wondering where the hell he was. This definitely wasn’t his pod. Looking around, it came to him. It was dark, but he could see the empty hospital beds on either side of him. He was in the infirmary. His headache reminded him of why he was here; Dr. Nathan had insisted he stay here for the night.
He couldn’t see that it mattered where he slept, just ’cause he had a concussion, but if it meant he got to stay away from that damned pod overnight, he wasn’t gonna complain. O’Reily had pushed him out of the way of that flying chair. He’d been dreaming about that, hadn’t he? He knew his dream had O’Reily in it somewhere, because he could remember his smile. That crooked grin he gets, when things are going his way. Alvarez saw the smile in his mind’s eye, wondering why he’d been dreaming about something crazy like that.
He had a sudden flash of that chair flying through the air, the leg pointed right at his head, just before O‘Reily had shoved him. Alvarez closed his eyes, shaking his head at his close call, and gasped as a sharp pain pierced his skull. He held his breath, forehead creased, waiting for the pain to ease. He was gonna have to be careful of that. The rest he could deal with, mostly just a low, pulsing headache, but he didn’t want that sharp, jabbing pain back. He decided to think easy, peaceful thoughts for now. He felt light-headed and he wondered if that was from the pain meds they‘d given him earlier.
So he tried to think about something else for while. If O‘Reily was right, they‘d be getting that shipment in tomorrow. That was good. No more unhappy customers, some dinero in his pocket. Yeah, these were good thoughts. And he’d save a couple of hits for himself. That’d be real good. Maybe he and O’Reily could celebrate getting the shipment in - drop a hit or two, and just hang out for a bit. That’d be alright. O’Reily wasn’t someone he usually thought about spending time with, but it’d be nice to hang out with someone with no ties to El Norte for once. Not like he could trust O’Reily any farther than he could throw him, but they were partners now. He’d have no reason to wish Alvarez ill.
At the moment, O’Reily was probably one of the few people Alvarez knew that would give a shit what happened to him. He wouldn’t want anyone messing with Alvarez, as long as they were working together. And O’Reily could probably use someone to watch his back these days, too. Who the hell has O’Reily got he can count on? Cyril? Yeah, right. Although Alvarez wouldn’t want to mess with Cyril in a fight, he couldn’t really be counted on to watch his brother’s back. O’Reily needed a sharp eye - someone who understood what was going on, and would know how to act to take advantage of the situation.
This had potential. Having O‘Reily on his side could be a very smart move. The worry was would O’Reily be willing to deal with all the El Cid crap Alvarez has to put up with? Maybe he could convince El Cid that it would be handy to have someone in O’Reily’s camp, to keep an eye on him. El Cid was not O’Reily’s friend, he didn’t trust him for shit. It would be tough to convince him he needed that much watching, though. He‘d have to think that one through. He yawned suddenly, grabbing his head, briefly. “Mierda!” (1) He drifted slowly back towards sleep, trying to think pleasant thoughts of money in hand and having someone else worry about his back for a change, instead of having to grow eyes in the back of his head because his own hermanos couldn‘t be trusted to watch it for him.
Alvarez was flying. Well, at least it felt like it. But it always did when he was speeding down the highway in his beautiful ride, with one of the prettiest girls in the city rubbing herself all up next to him. He loved the feel of the car’s engine growling as he sped up. She was a powerful car, she demanded attention and respect. Alvarez knew her well, he knew how to take care of her. And she gave it right back. He ran his hands along the steering wheel, feeling her purr, loving that sense of flying he got on these long stretches of highway.
Maritza’s dark red nails were scratching along the inside seam of his tight black jeans, slowly working her way up his leg. He moved around a bit, trying to adjust himself a little. He liked wearing these tight jeans, Maritza loved them, and he loved the way they felt when he was getting hard; the pressure they put on him was an extra bonus. She dragged her nails along the outline of his dick through the fabric of the jeans, a light touch that drove him crazy, wanting more. Maritza unzipped his pants, pulling out his half-hard cock and rubbing her hand up and down the length of him. “Mmmmm, that feels good, baby.”
He concentrated on the road, both hands on the wheel. That was the only way he could do this without stopping the car and he didn’t want to do that, he loved the feel of the engine rumbling underneath him while he got off. Maritza was barely touching him, running her fingers up and down so lightly he could hardly feel it. He pushed his hips up into her hand, wanting her to grab him, pull him hard; he knew she was just teasing him. She knew what he liked, what he needed, but she wasn’t ready to give it to him yet.
This had always been her hold over him, the thing that kept him coming back for more, no matter how mad they got at each other, no matter the angry words and vicious fights. She knew his secret passions, the ache that drove him for more, harder, rougher. She understood his need for *more*. She was so fuckin’ wild. No matter how hard he pushed her, she held her own, and came back even stronger. He’d never found anyone else who could do it, no one else who *would*. She’s the only one that ever understood that a little pain makes the pleasure sweeter.
She laughed in his ear and he shuddered as she squeezed his dick hard for just a second before going back to that loose, teasing stroke. Finally she picked up the pace slightly, squeezing his dick just a bit as she pulled her hand up and down. Occasionally a nail would scratch up against his dick and make him shiver with excitement. His cock responded to the bit of edge she was giving him, filling out and getting harder. “Yeah, Mami...you know what I like.” Her hand stopped up near the top and the thumb went around the tip, rubbing roughly over the head. Alvarez’ breath caught for a second, his hips jerked once, before he started to breathe again, slightly faster now. He put his head back against the headrest for a second or two, reminding himself to keep his eyes and thoughts on the road.
Her hand on his cock was stronger now, the grip tighter. He swelled into that hand as it rose and fell, jerking him harder and harder with every stroke. “Oh, yeah, baby...that’s it. Eso es bueno...muy bueno.” (2) Breathing faster, harsher than before, he could hear the blood pounding in his ears as he felt it pound in his cock. His jeans were tight around his balls and that felt good. He shifted down slightly in his seat, to pull the jeans tighter and increase the pressure. He could feel the engine purr beneath him and that vibration sent even more sensation up through his balls, right into his dick.
Now this was more like what he needed. His cock was straining as he felt blunt nails running up and down the length of the pulsing vein on the underside of his dick and he grunted as he pushed himself into the hand holding him tightly, so tightly it actually hurt. That was sweet, real sweet, and he pumped himself up into that fierce grip.
He didn’t think he could get any harder than this. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel and he blinked, trying to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead of him. He was gasping now, grunting with every tight stroke, pushing his hips up into that hard hand. His cock felt like it was going to explode at any second. The intensity of the grip around his dick was incredible; moving faster and more forcefully, dragging his come out of him with one last, powerful jerk. He couldn’t even cry out as he came, he just gasped loudly as each stream of come shot out, hitting the dashboard and the steering column with loud splats and dripping down onto the carpet and Alvarez’ black jeans.
His eyes closed for just a second, as he continued to jerk into the sticky hand holding onto his dick. He opened them quickly, glad there was no one within a mile of him on the road, as he realized he had already drifted halfway into the next lane. He eased back into his own lane and sighed, his breathing finally calming down and becoming more regular. He took a deep breath: “Baby, that was so fuckin‘ hot!”
“What the hell did you expect?” A man’s amused voice answered him. Alvarez jerked his head to the right, forgetting all about the road, and watched as Ryan O’Riley grinned at him and wiped the come off his hand onto Alvarez’ jeans covered thigh.
Alvarez jerked and gasped, wide awake now, sitting up in his hospital bed. He slowly lay back down, his heart pounding, his pulse racing, breathing fast. He told himself it was just a dream, Just a fucking dream! Then he realized his boxers were wet, his dick still pulsing and tingling from his orgasm. “Shit, man!” Mumbling to himself in Spanish, he cleaned himself up using his boxers as a rag, then wadded them up and shoved them in a trash can on the other side of the room. As he got back into bed, he closed his eyes, determined to not think about what had just happened. He rolled over onto his side, punching the pillow viciously, pissed at himself and that dream. Well, at least the meds were working, and he was feeling no pain. He yawned sleepily, and fell back asleep; that grin - that crazy fuckin’ twisted grin of O’Reily's - the last thing he saw before he fell.
(1) Mierda! - Shit!
(2) Eso es bueno...muy bueno. - That’s good. Very good.