My words are greeted by road noise. Shame washes over me, my own words pummeling me for the failure I really am.
Finally, Nacho breaks the silence.
“That’s why…everything. Isn’t it? You think you can stitchmeback together.”
The neutrality of his statement gives no hint as to his feelings on the matter. Once again, I’m left with a raw truth.
“Yes. And no.”
“Explain.”
I let the road roll under us for a few moments before answering.
“You respond well to direction. For all the things you won’t tell me, I know you’re a fighter.”
“You know my record, Dr. Barlowe. That Nazi motherfucker was the only fight I ever had on the inside, and he came to me.”
“But you were prepared. You knew exactly what to do. You took him out of the fight before he could do serious damage.”
“I dunno, Doc. Getting stabbed with a shiv felt pretty fucking serious to me.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
We hadn’t gotten very far in our therapy sessions, but I knew the first time I met Ignacio Rivera that he’d kept his sexuality well hidden. It was evident with the way he acted in those few moments before deciding he was interested.
Based on his record of good behavior and lack of violent interactions, I doubt he ever let anyone see his queerness. Not the way he showed me. When I think about how hard he would get for me…fuck. I loved that his arousal was for me and for me alone.
After a few seconds of riding along in silence, Nacho answers, gripping the steering wheel tight, “My father always said, ‘Never start a fight, hijo. But if someone brings the fight to you, make damn sure you finish it.’ Didn’t want to disappoint my old man.”
Sadness, deeper than I thought him capable of, crosses Nacho’s features as he stares out at the road ahead.
“It’s the way you liked being directed,” I explain softly, hoping to bring him back into the now. “That’s why it’s so satisfying. I can tell a brick wall to sit up straight, but what good would that do? To soothe and appease a fighter like yourself, to be the one person you are willing to take direction from…”
I let out a shaky breath as blood pulses in my cock, causing it to swell. Even Nacho shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.
“Yeah, I can see why we never talked about this,” he says, shaking his head. “Not exactly easy to admit how much I like your direction.”
I clear my throat and will the lower half of my body to calm down.
“And do you like that we naturally slipped into this? Or does that bother you?”
His silence makes my stomach drop. We’re already almost to Canyon Lake. He turns onto the next ranch road, going back toward home via a different route.
“Both,” he finally admits, his voice quiet.
I look over, horrified. “Nacho, I am so sorry. I—”
His irreverent eye roll stops me in my tracks.
“I like that you knew what I needed without asking.”
“Okay…”
“But…I’m always a little worried you’ll ask for something I can’t give you, and I don’t know what happens if I say no.”
I slap my hand to my forehead, staring at him. “Nacho, you canalwayssay no.”
The withering look he gives me tells me it wasn’t as obvious as I thought. His words seal the deal.
