Page 94 of Raspados & Regret

“No shit.” He wraps his hand around me, careful of the piercing, and strokes once. The metal shifts, dragging sensation through me like a current. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“When you fuck?”

My brain short-circuits. “I—what?”

“When you fuck,” he repeats, thumb brushing the frenulum where the bar exits. “Does it feel like—” He tugs gently, experimentally, and I slap my hand over my own mouth to muffle the sound. “—like that?”

“Elías.”

“Because I think,” he whispers, leaning in, mouth against my hip, “that if you fucked me with this, I would feel every inch. I would feel the metal.”

My knees actually buckle, and I have to grab his shoulder to stay upright.

He looks up at me, eyes dark, glasses fogged, mouth wet. “Is that why you got it? So someday, when you finally let a man touch you, he’d have to pay attention?”

“I got it because I’m masochistic.”

“Good.” His tongue flicks the metal, just barely, and I see stars. “Because papi… I’m about to make you suffer.”

He stands and kisses me, and there’s no rush this time. Our bodies are bare except for my sweats around my thighs and my slides still on, like an idiot.

Elías glances down.

“Shoes, papi.”

“Right.” I kick everything off, almost trip, and he slaps a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Shut up,” I whisper.

“Can’t,” he snickers. “You’re very sexy.”

“I almost died.”

“It would have been a very sexy death.”

I grab him and throw him onto the bed. Not hard, but enough to make him bounce once and bite back a laugh.

“Quiet,” I remind him.

His grin flashes. “Make me.”

The words hit like a match, and I crawl over him. He opens for me, thighs spreading, hands reaching. I settle between them and kiss him until neither of us is laughing anymore. His room is small and hot, the fan doing almost nothing. The bed creaks under our weight—a long, haunted-house groan—and we both freeze.

Outside the door, nothing.

No footsteps.

No mom.

Elías turns his face and breathes against my ear. “Slow. The bed is loud.”

“Your bed is a snitch.”

“Third spring from the left. Avoid it.”

I press my forehead to his shoulder, trying not to laugh too loud. His hands slide down my back.