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Mexico II

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players only. backdated. takes place shortly after Alfonso and Christos arrive in Mexico City.

Christos isn't sure about walking. From what he's seen so far, pedestrians are apparently fair game on the streets of Mexico City. Of course, the people in cars don't look much safer... "Is there a speed limit here?" he asks, sidestepping a street vendor selling roasted corn.

Alfonso laughs. "There is. It's fifty kilometres," he says. "But no one pays any attention." He grins at Christos. "Don't worry though. I'm taking you to one of the pedestrian sections."

"Okay." Christos looks back over his shoulder once more but then gives his attention to his lover as they walk. "How far are we from where you grew up?"

"About a forty minute drive from here," Alfonso says. "This is the historical district. We lived in Polanco, which is a colonia of Mexico City, like an arrondissement in Paris?"

Christos nods. They're beginning to see street art as they proceed deeper into the cultural well, fascinating to the eye. "These murals are wonderful," he says, tipping his head back to take it all in.

"Do you like art?" Alfonso asks, as always amazed by the things they haven't yet talked about, their relationship so far made up of stolen days and weekends.

"I don't really know," Christos muses. "I've never thought about it before. It's just always been background." He glances aside at Alfonso. "You?"

"The same," Alfonso admits. "I love seeing these murals and I like going to art galleries sometimes but I know very little about art. I took an art class in secondaria, high school, but I was too busy with my friends to pay attention."

Christos grins. "Were you very popular in secondaria?"

"Very," Alfonso admits. "I was one of the cool kids," he says with a soft laugh. "But I wasn't an asshole. I'm glad I can say that."

"That is good. I was very quiet. Shy, you know," Christos says, his eyes darting everywhere.

"Really?" Alfonso's surprised.

"Yeah. With two older brothers, I never got a word in edgewise at home, anyway, so I guess I was just used to not saying much." Christos steps closer to Alfonso, edging his lover past a gaggle of tourists.

"How did you overcome that?" Alfonso asks, watching Christos, aware his lover is acting differently than he has in L.A. or Vancouver. "You don't seem shy now."

"Still pretty quiet, though. I usually only speak up if I feel it's really important," Christos explains. He glances at his lover. "Like that day in the Citadel shop. That was important."

"You told me you didn't plan to be alone that night," Alfonso points out. "Are you telling me you wouldn't have spoken to someone?"

"Sure, I would have. But it's easier to speak to employees than real people," Christos says without thinking how the words might sound. Then he rolls his eyes at himself. "I mean... you know what I mean."

"I do," Alfonso nods, stopping himself from reaching for Christos's hand. "So what made you talk to me? I can't imagine I looked very easy to approach."

"No, but... god, you were so beautiful," Christos murmurs, glancing at Alfonso in a flash of memory. "And not like you were trying hard to be, either. You just... were. As soon as I saw you, I knew I had to get you to smile. And as soon as you smiled, I was done for."

Alfonso blushes at that. "I'm glad you went against your nature," he says softly, surreptitiously brushing his fingers against Christos's.

Christos grins, a crooked quirking of lips. "Me too." He gestures at the colorful bustle surrounding them. "Dare I say, it changed my life."

"I'm not sure I would be as daring," Alfonso admits, smiling, pondering the enormity of Christos's sacrifice once again. Hoping, when it comes down it, that his lover finds he's worth it.

"You're daring enough," Christos assures him, lifting his hand to the small of Alfonso's back to shift him out of the way of a jogger. An instant later he drops his hand, bemused. "Sorry. I'm treating you like..."

"Like what?" Alfonso says with a smile, equally amused.

"Like a client," Christos murmurs wryly. "Like I'm your security." It's a difficult instinct to resist, especially in such a crowd.

"My bodyguard?" Alfonso teases, kind of liking the idea.

"Yeah. Hired muscle, not really sparkling in the conversation department," Christos confesses with a snicker, shifting close enough to brush Alfonso's shoulder for an instant before he puts space between them again.

"We should roleplay that sometime," Alfonso suggests, the thought making him fight not to squirm.

"Yeah?" Christos brightens; that just puts a whole new spin on things. "Do I get to take advantage of my client at the end of the day?"

"I'm fairly certain that's one of the perks of the job," Alfonso says with a soft laugh.

Christos grins. It's an overcast day, but now he takes his shades out and put them on anyway. He falls into step just behind Alfonso, at his shoulder, and for once does his best to loom.

Alfonso hadn't necessarily meant now but since Christos has picked up on it and with the way he looks in his sunglasses, his face so serious... Alfonso closes his eyes for a moment, calming himself, certain he'll give them away if he looks at Christos, if he thinks about where this is leading.

3 o'clock, pair of giggling teenage girls. Threat level: high, maybe. Depending on if they notice... 2 o'clock, gaggle of tourists, and Christos leans in to subtly steer Alfonso around them. 6 o'clock, drunken football fans, and it's a relief to have them well in the past before they notice anything's amiss.

"How do you decide what's a threat?" Alfonso asks over his shoulder, genuinely curious.

"Who pays you the most attention," Christos explains in a murmur, keeping it between them. "Do they notice you, and do they notice you're you? Are they likely to cause trouble just in general?" They pause at a street crossing, waiting for a break in traffic, and his breath ghosts over Alfonso's ear. "And no one gets to touch you."

Something flips low in Alfonso's belly and it's all he can do to bite back a moan. "And what if they did?" he asks quietly, surprised he can even get the words out.

"I'd break it up. Get in between you," Christos answers, his eyes on his lover. "That's too dangerous, dealing with that many variables at once. My job is to keep you safe, even if it's from screaming fangirls." He quirks a smile. "It's your job to charm them."

Alfonso laughs, his cheeks heating just a little at the thought of Christos protecting him. Which really makes no sense. He's a grown man, physically fit, able to handle confrontations on his own. "Have you ever been lovers with one of your clients?" he asks, suddenly curious.

"No. That would be unprofessional," Christos answers.

"Have you ever wanted to be?" Alfonso asks. "Ever come close to it?"

"No." Christos grins at him. "This is a new experience for me. Trying not to check out your ass while I'm working." And because they're in a huge crowd, but still.

Alfonso laughs. "You're much more fun than other bodyguards I've had," he says, grinning back.

"Yeah?" Christos has to take a moment to study the beauty of Alfonso's smile, though he nearly stumbles. "Were you attracted to any of them?"

"One," Alfonso admits with a small shrug, "but I never acted on it."

"And why didn't you? I've never seen you as short on courage," Christos says, shouldering past a small group of tourists and subtly guiding Alfonso around them.

"I was younger and I was still heavily closeted," Alfonso explains. "I was worried we might get caught or he might talk and it was here in Mexico."

Christos sighs. "Unrequited love. So romantic." His eyes sparkle with mirth, though he manages not to smile.

"Not love, lust," Alfonso corrects even though he's equally amused. "And it wasn't unrequited. It was..." he sighs, struggling for the right word. "Unfulfilled?"

"What does that mean, he liked you too?" Christos asks, uncertain of the English. Then he rolls his eyes at himself. "What am I saying? Of course he did. I don't know how he resisted you."

"I think you have a far greater belief in my magnetism than anyone else," Alfonso says with a smile, suddenly wanting to kiss Christos. "Which I appreciate very much," he adds.

Christos laughs and shakes his head before putting his serious face back on. But he just can't help it, his lips keep quirking up. He's too damn happy. "That's stunning," he says, pointing at a fountain made of an intricate glass sculpture.

"It is," Alfonso nods, pulling out his phone. "Let me take your picture in front of it," he insists, their roleplay forgotten for the moment.

"Really?" It's kind of beyond Christos why Alfonso would want a picture of him, but he gamely goes to stand in front of the fountain anyway. He even smiles.

Alfonso takes the picture, checking to make sure it's a good one. "You look happy," he says, showing Christos when he rejoins him.

"I am happy. And hungry," Christos says, sniffing the air. "Something smells delicious." He looks around and spies a street vendor up ahead. "What is that?"

"It's elote, grilled corn," Alfonso says with a smile. "We can get some," he adds, starting towards the food cart. "It's roasted over an open grill and they coat it with salt, chile powder, butter, cotija - which is a kind of cheese - and crema fresca."

"That sounds amazing. I stopped listening when you said butter," Christos confesses with a laugh, and follows his lover to the vendor. "Of course," he says wistfully, "I don't eat when I'm on duty."

Alfonso nudges him. "We'll do that another time," he promises, smiling, "I just want us to enjoy today. I won't get a lot of days like this once I'm working."

It's not hard to convince Christos. "All right," he says, ducking his head on a smile. God, Alfonso just makes him gooey sometimes, and he suspects his lover doesn't even know the power he has over him. He buys them each a cob of corn, hot off the grill and dripping with butter and cheese. Christos blows on his to cool it before taking his first bite, then coughs a little as the chili powder catches him wrong.

Alfonso grins. He can't help it. "We'll get your spice tolerance way up by the time we leave," he promises.

"Am I getting laughed at by a local? Already?" Christos grins and takes a swig from his water bottle. God, he loves this man. The feeling is still so new, so precious.

"Just a little," Alfonso assures him, eyes sparkling as he takes a bite of his own corn.

Christos sighs and raises his free hand in surrender. He nibbles at his corn more cautiously now, sneaking glances at his lover whenever he can. There's something simply effortless about Alfonso -- he's gorgeous, and happy, and doesn't look like he's trying too hard at any of it. It's enticing.

"Si?" Alfonso asks, noticing Christos watching him, wondering if there's something his lover wants to say.

"Hmm?" Christos blinks and falls back a step, and comes as close as he ever does to actually blushing. "No, I-- I'm just having a really good time. With you."

Alfonso smiles. "Me too," he says. "I like seeing my city through new eyes. Your eyes."

Christos grins and licks his fingers, tossing the cob into a rubbish sack. "Is there a fresh market? I'd love a few more vegetables to add to what Marisol laid in for you."

"There's a huge one," Alfonso nods, still busy eating his corn. "We can visit it before we head back."

"All right." Christos purses his lips in thought for a moment. "When do you think I'll meet your family?"

"My father, this weekend, my mother and brother, maybe the weekend after," Alfonso says, finishing his corn and tossing the cob in the bin, his fingers wiped clean with the last of the napkins. "You'll never get my parents in the same room if they can help it."

"Mine, either," Christos says with a shake of his head. "I don't think they've crossed paths since I was a boy. Families can be such fun, no?" He smiles wryly, thinking of his older brothers. "I'm honored that you're letting me meet yours."

"You might change your mind after you meet them," Alfonso quips, smiling, watching Christos, wishing they could touch. "So... did you want to see the market?"

"Yeah. I'd like to get some fresh herbs in, if we can. Maybe some fresh fish," Christos answers, tilting his head back to catch the sunshine for a moment.

Alfonso pulls his phone out and takes another picture of Christos. "We'll get some of us together too," he promises, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

This time Christos has to ask. "Why do you do that?" he chuckles. "I'm not that pretty to look at." He shrugs. "I'm also not going anywhere, so you won't have to remember me."

Alfonso shrugs. "I like having pictures of you, especially where you're happy," he says with a small smile. "You look very serious a lot of the time, even when you're not."

Christos has to laugh, although he tries to follow up with a straight face. "Life is very serious business," he insists. But god, being with Alfonso just makes him happy.

"Not always," Alfonso insists back, smiling, nodding for them to continue their walk. "And you know you're serious when I feel like the carefree light-hearted one," he teases.

"You should be." Christos reaches for Alfonso's free hand before remembering himself and aborting the move. "You're meant to be happy. Leave the silly overthinking to me."

"What are you overthinking?" Alfonso asks, pointing out various pieces of art and graffiti along the way.

"Today?" Christos's gaze darts to the side. "Exit routes." He can't help it: decades in security work combined with an innate dislike of crowds... He flashes his lover a smile, reminding himself to lighten up. "Athens is very crowded, and it can be quite dangerous. Usually not to locals, though."

"Mexico City is very safe," Alfonso assures him, nudging their shoulders together. "There are neighbourhoods, like any large city, where you wouldn't go at night, especially alone, and you have to pay attention to traffic and for pickpockets, but there's really very little crime, surprisingly little given its size."

"Mm. Mm-hmm." Christos snickers. "You'll keep me safe?"

"Si," Alfonso assures him with a smile. "I'll protect you with my body." A sparkle in his eye.

Christos presses the back of his hand to his forehead. "My hero," he says, grinning back. "I'll follow you anywhere then."


"That was fun," Alfonso says as they let themselves back into his condo. "Although I wasn't expecting the mob at the market," he laughs, having been accosted by a group of fans who all insisted on having numerous selfies taken with him in numerous configurations. "Are you sure it didn't bother you?"

"Security nightmare," Christos replies, setting the grocery sacks down on the kitchen counter. Only now that they're safely away from the gaggle of schoolgirls does the tension begin to flow out of his shoulders. "I think that one girl wouldn't have minded a piece of you."

Alfonso laughs. "It blows my mind how precocious they are at that age," he says, starting to put things away.

"Precocious? I guess that's one word for it." Christos chuckles. He steps behind his lover and wraps his arms around his waist. "I would have said horny," he says, grazing his lips over Alfonso's nape.

"Maybe, but they're too young," Alfonso points out, shivering lightly at the touch. He smiles. "Were you jealous?" he teases.

"No. But I am happy to finally have you all to myself," Christos says with a smile. "And I'm happy those schoolgirls didn't leave any marks on you."

"They're mostly well-behaved," Alfonso says, leaning back into Christos's embrace. "But I do have a few stories."

"Yes? Tell me one," Christos invites, a last kiss pressed to Alfonso's nape before he steps away to deal with the fresh fish fillets from the market.

"When we were touring in Brazil, I woke up to find two young women in bed with me. They'd paid off one of the porters," Alfonso explains. "I swear, I was out of that bed so fast. Our manager was just down the hall and he saw them out but they were young, really young. Thank god it was before smartphones." He shakes his head. "And another time a woman flipped her skirt up and showed me she'd tattooed 'Poncho' on her coño, which was completely shaved."

"Tattooed?" Christos asks incredulously, his mind boggling. "She must have been very... confident. As opposed to crazy."

"I'm pretty sure she was crazy," Alfonso grins. "And I pity her partners. Can you imagine being her husband or boyfriend and having to see my name every time you fuck?"

Christos blinks, realizing at the picture that he wouldn't mind seeing his own name on Alfonso's body. Permanently. He shakes it off and tsks disapproval over the state of his lover's knives, digging through drawers until he finds one with a satisfactory blade. "Yes, that would suck. I never had a lover so devoted," he jokes. "You're a lucky man."

Alfonso shakes his head. "People are crazy," he says, folding the reusable shopping bags. "They think they know us because they've seen us on TV, seen our lives plastered in magazines, but they don't realize how boring we really are."

"Yes, boring. And not at all the ravenous sex beast I'm sure she was imagining," Christos murmurs, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Alfonso laughs. "You're awful," he says, but it's clear he's just teasing.

Christos smiles and sets the thick tuna steaks in a dish. "The Mercado was wonderful. I was tempted by the iguana, only I wasn't certain how to cook it." He gets out fresh herbs to chop for a quick marinade.

That gets another laugh. "You can't cook iguana in my condo," Alfonso says. "If you want to try it, we'll go out. It's easy enough to cook but the smell..." He shudders. "I know a place that makes really good tacos with it and another that just roasts the meat."

"Tacos sound good. I just need to satisfy my curiosity," Christos says with a nod. "Dinner will be ready in 20. Open that bottle of white Marisol stocked."

"I'm surprised you didn't decide to become a chef," Alfonso says as he gets the bottle of white from the fridge and pulls the corkscrew from the drawer. "You're so good with food."

"I don't think I'd have the patience to work my way up under another chef," Christos says, searing the steaks. "Getting yelled at in the kitchen... That would really piss me off," he admits with a laugh.

Alfonso grins, setting the actual table for their meal. "Didn't you get yelled at in the military?"

Christos snorts a laugh. "Constantly. But I was new to it. I've been cooking for twenty-something years. I'd punch Gordon Ramsey in the balls."

Alfonso laughs too. "I would pay to see that," he says, coming back around the island.

"I think a lot of people would," Christos agreed with a chuckle. "Want to make a quick salad?"

"Si." Alfonso grabs the already washed greens from the fridge and slices some red onion, tomato and cucumber on top before mixing up a simple vinaigrette. It's one of the few things he knows how to do, along with throwing some meat on a grill or in a pan. "Do you cook like this when it's just you?" he asks, curious.

"Usually. Fairly basic, but quality," Christos answers, beginning to carve a mango for a fresh salsa. "I don't like putting crap into my body - I don't like how it makes me feel - so it's easier to just do it for myself." He smiles at his lover. "But it's much more fun to cook for someone else."

Alfonso smiles over his shoulder at that. "I will be happy to let you cook for me all you want," he declares, eyes sparkling.

"Then you'll eat well. If maybe a little healthier than you're used to. But we can always go out, in that case," Christos says, and plates up the steaks, topping the tuna with salsa. "Fresh ingredients are the best."

"Agreed, and I try to eat fresh, healthy, even when I'm ordering in," Alfonso says, watching Christos. "I've just never really learned to cook and after a long day of shooting, I don't have the patience."

Christos smiles a little and joins his lover at the table, topping off his wineglass. "Kali orexi. Bon appetit."

"Gracias. Buen Provecho," Alfonso returns, toasting Christos with his glass. "This looks and smells delicious."

"What can I say? You're a good customer," Christos jokes, cutting into his meal. "Plus I've got to earn my bed somehow."

"I thought you were doing that with sex," Alfonso kids back, putting a piece of tuna on his fork.

"A prostitute who can cook. I am quite a catch," Christos replies, completely deadpan. He sips at his wine and then snickers. "You're a lucky man."

Alfonso grins. "I am actually very aware of that," he says, grin gentling to a smile, a note of seriousness in his words and tone.

Shaking his head, Christos points his fork at Alfonso's plate. "Eat," he orders, "before I decide you've had enough."

"Yes, sir," Alfonso replies, ducking his head a little. He takes a bite and groans with pleasure. "So good. Muy buen."

"See that? Feeding you is good for me," Christos says, scooping up a forkful of tangy salsa. "Good for my ego. Unlike the horde of young women throwing themselves at you," he laughs.

"Except you're the one I'm coming home with," Alfonso points out, laughing a little as well but careful to keep eating.

"That's true. I'll keep it that way." Sitting back, Christos polishes off his wine, savoring the cool bouquet against his tongue. "I'd like to see the Mexico City Citadel. Not tonight, but maybe when you get a break from your play and need to blow off some steam. Have you been to this location yet?"

Alfonso shakes his head. "Not yet," he says. "Usually when I'm here I'm visiting family or working so much I can't find the time." Which applies to a lot of things. He smiles. "But I'd like to go with you."

"Great. We'll do that." Christos lets his gaze travel over his lover, and asks, "Do you want dessert?"

"Are we talking food?" Alfonso asks, a light shiver running through him at that look.

"We could be," Christos answers with a small shrug. "But I didn't prepare anything."

"Do we need to clean up first?" Alfonso asks, hoping like hell the answer is no.

"I'll take care of it in the morning." Christos glances at the stove to check that none of the burners are on, but his attention is really on his lover. He gets to his feet and crooks a finger.

Alfonso rises, stepping closer, a little nervous but more excited. He's been waiting to get his hands on Christos - and for Christos to get his hands on him - all day.

"Closer," Christos whispers, his lips quirking in a little smile.

Alfonso moves in, barely an inch between them, his eyes locked on Christos's, his body almost humming with anticipation.

Taking a fistful of Alfonso's shirt in his hand, Christos backs his lover against the wall, caging him between his thighs. He kisses him with all the pent-up lust of the long day sightseeing, when they were forced to act as nothing more than friends.

Alfonso actually whimpers into the kiss, his knees going weak. Dios... Hands clutching at Christos's shoulders, hanging on for what feels like dear life.

One-handed Christos unbuckles Alfonso's belt, pulls down his zipper. He takes hold of his lover's cock and strokes, root to tip and back, steady and demanding.

"Dios Mío," Alfonso moans, caught between the wall and Christos's body, his lover's grip driving him mad. "Por favor..."

"Do it," Christos growls, scraping his teeth over Alfonso's throat. "Come for me."

Alfonso cries out, his body reacting in an instant to those words, that tone, those teeth - that rough hand on his cock, demanding he obey. He comes and comes hard, painting Christos's hand with thick spurts of hot white.

Slowly Christos draws his hand up, tracing one wet finger over the pulse beating wildly in his lover's neck. "Come to bed," he says quietly, already linking their hands and leading him down the hall.

Alfonso holds on tight and lets Christos guide him to the bedroom. He's reeling a little, off-kilter from how quickly everything happened and the aftershocks of his orgasm which are still trembling through him.

They reach the bedroom and Christos undresses Alfonso in silence, then gives him a gentle push onto the bed. The gleam in his eyes is nearly predatory as he strips out of his own clothing.

The way Christos is watching him... it sends another shiver of what? Fear? Excitement? A messed up tangle of both? Whatever it is, it makes something deep in his belly go liquid, his spent cock giving a throb even as it softens.

Christos grabs a bottle of lube from the bedside table and covers Alfonso, their bodies aligned. He slicks his fingers and pushes one inside his lover, testing.

Alfonso groans, moving on that finger, already aching to have Christos inside him. "Mas..." he pleads, gaze locked with his lover's.

More. Christos is happy to deliver. Three slippery fingers now, and he corkscrews them deep into his lover, his cock burning with need. He pulls out only when he has to, rolling to snag a condom and sheathe himself. He makes room between Alfonso's thighs and drives deep.

Alfonso cries out again, wrapping both arms and legs around Christos and welcoming him in.

Christos slips his hand into Alfonso's hair and holds him in place while he feasts on his throat, licking and sucking in counterpoint to the thrust of his hips.

Even though he's already come, it feels incredible. Christos's mouth on his throat, cock filling him so completely. Alfonso curses in Spanish, begging for more, begging for Christos to use him, use him as hard as he wants.

He doesn't understand most of the words, but Alfonso's voice, his tone light Christos on fire. He picks up the pace, burying himself again and again. Bites his lover's shoulder and then laps at the mark.

Alfonso's cries fill the air and he doesn't hold back, doesn't even try, losing himself fully in sensation, in Christos.

The bed creaks beneath the force of Christos's thrusts. His mind whirls, everything down to this scent, this sound. This feeling as he uses his lover's willing body. When he comes he smothers his shout in Alfonso's mouth, dripping with sweat and shaking.

Alfonso shudders hard, ass clenching around Christos's cock, pleasure rippling through him even though his cock has softened between them. "I love you," he whispers, hands running over Christos's back. The words still so new.

At first Christos thinks he's only imagined it. Then he lifts his head and smiles down at his lover. "I love you too," he whispers back, and kisses Alfonso.

Chest going tight with emotion, Alfonso wraps his arms around Christos again, keeping him close. Pouring everything he's feeling into that kiss.

The level of emotion surprises Christos, and rocks him to his core. Surely he'd fall to his knees before this man if they weren't already lying in bed. "I love you," he whispers again, the words slightly smeared against Alfonso's lips, "and I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Alfonso whispers, unable to ease his grip for the moment. "I need you to stay." Here. Now. Forever. The last still something he dare not think about.

[feedback welcome. comments screened.]