Watching over Sands has become far more of a full-time caretaking job since the curse began. It hasn't been all that bad in comparison to other things the agent has gotten himself into, though. In fact, if he'd admit it, some of this has actually been enjoyable for El. The effects of the curse have dulled the sharp edges of Sheldon's personality
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Most of him though- is much too busy thinking 'Lets lick him all over and then suck his dick!' It's exhausting being in his brain.
He kisses back thankful El wants to do it so often. Now he knows it's okay sometimes. At least when El is in this friendly of a mood. He goes through a mental list of all the things he's jerked off to that had starred the mexican. Pretty much of of them are crossed off immediately.
Though just thinking them is having an effect. Now the wriggling he's doing is more out of a need for friction. The kissing and hands in his hair along with the realization that El really does not plan to stop this suddenly has him bursting out of his skin.
All he can do is nod at El's request and lean back away from the kiss. His hand goes behind to find El's cock underneath him. Making a long line out of his body a small sound escapes him as he sits up and then back down impaling himself.
Because he's a liar. And one so practiced he was still nodding his understanding as he was doing the very thing he was being asked not to.
Sands knows well enough that El's never taken it and only given. The lack of lubricant or a hand to loosen him first is painful. But he's never done it any other way with the mariachi and he doesn't plan to change that now. It's one of his favorite parts.
The look on his face is angelic in it's pleasure. The sounds soft and without a hint of pain.
Because he's a good liar as well.
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El's strong hands run firmly over Sands' back. The mariachi begins to trail kisses over Sheldon's neck, collar, shoulders and chest. His hands slide down and grip under Sheldon's thighs, using them to lift the man up and lower him again in slow, smooth movements.
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"I wish I could see you like this."
He grinds down harder then. To keep El from putting a stop to this. Sands is afraid any loving admissions will change the man's mind. He's being careful.
"I've always wanted to see your face when you fuck me. The first time we met I was off my game. You were so beautiful."
He moves back to El's lips kissing him with a steady and lingering need.
"I rubbed one off in the ally after you left." He smiles then as if bragging about some sports trophy he won as a kid. Something that happened in another lifetime.
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Though he had slowly, and very intensely become aware of Sands' interests in him, a lot of this is news to El.
"Beautiful?" He matches Sheldon's town in a dark and breathy whisper and gives a soft laugh to the word. "And you thought so so quickly? I had no idea..."
It slowly begins to sink in that Sands might actually love him and that is a thought both comforting and terrifying.
When Sheldon's fingers brush against the mariachi's cheek once more, he catches that hand and brings the fingers to his mouth, sucking at them slowly and softly and kissing each fingertip. El then guides that hand over his features, making sure they feel enraptured smile that's such a slight thing on gently parted lips and the easing of the tension that usually creases his brow. Then he frees that hand so his own can slip back into tangles of dark chocolate brown hair and pull Sands in to another tight kiss. El kisses deeply and with a long denied hunger as he begins to thrust deeper.
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"You just brushed me aside. I would have killed anyone else for it. But I wanted you so bad."
The finger sucking shuts him up. Now when his mouth opens it stays that way. The sounds aren't words but tiny noises a man only makes when no more blood is rushing to his brain. His face lowers pressing into the side of El's hair as the man leads his hand. And that smile. The one he's never seen. Sands sits back again to face him. He doesn't have the words. He's unwilling to say the things running through his head. Sands is learning. His need to say everything out loud is finally being muted. El isn't silent. He's telling Sands everything he needs to know but the agent isn't hearing it. He swears to himself to learn the maraichi's quiet language. It took Sheldon this long to trust that. It will wear off. Later he'll think that El can only be happy with him when he's this calmer selkie thing who seems to understand much better then he when El wants to be touched and when he doesn't. But for now he's so happy.
Sands leans into the kiss without the timidness he had before. His hand goes to his own dick between them matching El's movement inside him.
Though he's no longer talking the man's ear off he's still a vocal person. Not bothering to break the kiss he moans into El's mouth.
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He runs his cheek along Sheldon's, kissing him softly at the temple and whispering into his ear.
"You couldn't have killed me... You said it yourself.. I..I was 'already dead'."
Fingers tighten in Sands' hair as El comes closer to climax. He kisses and pants against the hollow of his lover's throat. El may have been dead when Sands found him, but in this moment, he is very much alive and free of the loneliness and loss that he lets bind him.
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His thin frame flutters with quick breath and spasming muscles as he milks El's cock inside him.
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His breath is hot and rapid as he makes long, deep, and deliberate thrusts to ride out his own orgasm. When the last of his climax is spent and he's left with only small aftershocks, El moves both arms to wrap tight around Sheldon's body as he lays back, bringing the man down with him to feel his weight on his chest.
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The urge to start yapping is strong. He wants to tell El everything. How it felt, that he's happy, what he wants to do next time, what he wants to do for the rest of the day...
He instead whispers a 'thank you' and hushes up. His plan is to stay here in their sticky pile until El has had enough of him.
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He nods and kisses Sands in return for the thanks. For now, he's rather grateful as well. As the minutes pass, a smile spreads slow on El's lips and quirks into more of a sly grin. He tilts his head a little towards Sheldon and brushes a few strands of hair form Sheldon's face. "It's very quiet. I'm impressed... So, how much longer until you die from it?"
He breathes a laugh and kisses Sands' forehead. The attempt to keep silent is appreciated by the Mexican, but it seems far too unnatural.
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"I'm not sure I only go that long in my sleep."
This is untrue because Sands talks in his sleep. A lot.
"But there was a moment there- man, lets just say I know I'm going to Heaven cause I spent my time in Hell."
With the continued petting and kissing Sands snuggles his head closer so his face is near the mariachi's neck.
"The way you smell makes me hungry." Sands licks his neck. "Salty."
Now comes the flood. "I like your room more then mine. It smells like you and it's always warmer somehow. Our apartment was like that before you moved out. And no matter how many times I call and force you to come over it's never warm after you leave. I get tired and hungry when I come over here. It's nice because I'm never hungry and want to sleep but here it's..." He sighs and shrugs, smiling.
"I don't want you to move back in. I just like it here."
"But I like cooking at my place. I should really learn to cook something other then breakfast. I hardly ever make dinner. I just really enjoy doing the eggs and having the toast pop up at the perfect time and everything synchronized. That's a lot of it. I got tired of scrambled eggs years ago."
*Short pause to get breath*
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When there's a pause, he knows very well he has to take the opening while it's good.
"I've never locked you out, you know. And I'm glad you don't need me to move back in. I like having my own space. I'm not just trying to get away from you." It's more a 'getting away from everyone'. "You should make dinner more. Eggs get old after a while, no matter how much I like watching you make them." The silk robe and cigarette while cooking are both ridiculous and endearing.
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"...Nice to have you with us. Today we're talking about Mexican'ts and the agents who love them. If I came over and said, 'El, after a long day of making you miserable do you think we could lay around naked in the sunlight?' or 'Hey, can I just take a nap on your couch? I just want to be near you. Teehee.' you would give the 'you want me to shoot the cook?' face and then go in your room until I took it upon myself to wander out of your space.
So instead I just... made up reasons for you to come over. If I kept knocking at your door what kind of example would that set for the others?"
The fact that his only other real employee is Murdoc does not fit into his reality.
"I like my space too. I just like my space with you in it." His tone of voice says 'See? Now is that so hard to understand? Silly muscle'.
"You hate my mexican food." He shrugs helplessly sounding bewildered.
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"Oh. I see. Better that we continue with you making up reasons for me to come over and pretending you don't want me there. That works so well, after all."
He sighs, but it's less annoyance and more 'I have been forced to accept this kind of madness as normal.' The more he learns about what Sands actually means when he says things, the more El has to rethink every moment they've ever spent together. It's like reading a book first and learning the language it's written in after the fact.
"Mexican food? Oh is that what you were trying for?"
He smiles, but the laugh is kept entirely inside.
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Sands blindly stares at him holding in his own laughter. Then he jumps up to straddle El and 'hold him down' pretending it's physically possible.
"I'm sorry? No Habla. Did you say something to me?"
With a grin he pinches El's side.
"I want you to try my pork, El. I want you to take a bite out of my big fat sausage."
Sands emphasizes every other word with either a poke or pinch on any part of torso left undefended.
"I'll cook for you. I'll cook some big hard meat up just for you."
Sands is like those little dogs nipping at a large labrador. They seem to have no idea how much smaller they are or how silly their playing looks to the bigger dog.
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El grins and shakes his head, catching one of Sands' hands in each of his own before bringing them together to wrap one hand around two thin wrists. El's free hand stretches up to pull Sands down to him.
"Sheldon? Shut up."
He grins and kisses that sweet, sarcastic mouth and quiet the agent for just another few moments.
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