latino_menace | OOM: Bogotá on fight night

Rico groans again, probably because she's wrapped Ramon's shirt around his thigh and is twisting it tight to stop the flow of blood. This means she's covered in his blood now.

"He'll live. But I hope your uncle knows a good surgeon."

She looks down at her tunic and sighs.

'My father and Raul know everyone useful.'

This is probably not much of an overstatement. Ramon guns the engine and pulls a quick U-turn to get the hell out of here. He knows this city backwards and takes as many backstreets as possible to avoid traffic but it still takes thirty minutes or so to get back to his father's house. As soon as they're there he jumps out, pausing only to say,

'Stay with him. I'll call the doctor and then we'll get him out of the car - Hector, come on.'

Five minutes and he's back with two guys to help.

'We'll put him in the kitchen.'

She gets out of the way, completely unselfconscious about wiping her hands on her jeans.

"Want me to wait outside?"

Ramon gives a look that clearly says she's a freak.

'Not unless you want to go out to dinner covered in blood. Come on.'

He forgets that she has no idea he has rooms in this house as well - and it's a pretty damn impressive looking house. Rico is half supported, half carried around the side of the place and through the back into the kitchen, which is a room that looks far to nice to have a man bleeding all over it. No one gives a damn about that though, it has a big enough table to let him lie down. People start getting clean towels and water; Ramon ignores them and gets a couple of beers out of the fridge, handing one over to Fi and watching the scene dispassionately.

'The doctor won't be long,' says a voice and Fi will have no trouble being able to surmise who this is. Apart from being bigger and taller, the man looks very like the older version of Ramon. 'And Raul is coming over.'

'Henri is dead, papa.'

'...oh.' Ramon shows no special respect for the man but there is an easy familiarity, far more like equals than father and son. He doesn't look at him while this news is imparted and Salazar the elder doesn't look at his boy, choosing to muse in the direction of the window instead. 'I'll tell him. He'll want to talk to you obviously but perhaps it would be better if he didn't see you until tomorrow anyway.'

'I'm going out after I clean up.'

'Who's she?' Emanual nods at Fiona as if she can't hear him speak.

'She's with me.'

Beat.

'She killed about four of them and kept Rico alive in the car so don't give me shit, alright?'

His father closes his mouth, looks amused (for unclear reasons), then winks at Fi with an expression she'll probably be quite familiar with. 'Go out then. But I expect you here before lunchtime tomorrow.'

Ramon just shrugs (he'll be late, he always is) and jerks his head towards Fi, indicating the stairs so she knows to follow him.

She waits until Ramon is a few steps ahead of her and turns to look back at his father, an impish grin on her face. The resemblance is uncanny, and maybe she lets a little of the fire in her eyes shine through, who can tell?

She has to tear her eyes away, lest she be left behind though.

The house must be huge, for as long as it takes them to get to Ramon's rooms.

"You live here too?"

It's probably a good thing he didn't see that. He would hate to be jealous of his father. Or maybe he'd offer to share, who knows?

'No.'

He unlocks the door, revealing a very large bedroom and en suite bathroom, with another two rooms through an archway - a sitting room and what appears to be a games room. It has a pool table in it anyway and a setup for a cards game.

'They're just left here from before I moved out - what are my parents going to do, let someone else move in? I stay here sometimes if I'm nearby or if I need to be around for work.'

Basically, if his place is closer to whatever club he falls out of at 4am, he comes here rather than making the trip to his place. Or if there's a threat and the family need to be kept secure. The two houses are interchangeable for him, he comes and goes as he pleases.

'I don't have any women's clothes obviously but if you take yours off, they can get cleaned before we go. Or borrow some of my mother's, I don't know.'

This may be just a ploy to get her naked (he's sure she won't notice his sly cunning there) and he's not shy about kicking his own clothes off. But then, he never is.

She takes a little turn around the room, and heads into the game room, running one hand down the felt of the pool table.

"You have someone who can get blood out of these jeans?"

Game room scoped out, she heads for his closet, pawing through his shirts until she finds one in silk. Red? Blue? Something jewel-toned and sharp looking.

"You attached to this?"

He shrugs.

'It's a shirt.'

He doesn't get attached to clothes. As for the laundry, he simply goes to the door, opens it and yells a name. He picks up his own jeans and holds them out to the maid that appears.

'Get rid of them. And clean up hers. We're going out as soon as they're done so hurry up.'

He really wants to be out of here before his uncle shows up and before his father realises how much danger Hector was in.

She pulls the shirt out and throws it on the bed, skinning out of her jeans and tunic, palming something before handing them to the maid.

"Gracias, señora."

Standing there in her bra and panties, she shoots Ramon a look. The knife in her palm unfolds and she deftly cuts the sleeves off the shirt. A little tuck here and there, and voilà! A sexy little dress that goes down to mid thigh.

'Clever.'

He wanders over and touches the hem, running the thin material between his fingers.

'Flimsy though. You never know when it might just fall off.'

She slits her eyes at him, but she can't help but grin back at him. She slips it off again, hangs it back in the closet.

"Shower?"

'Yeah.'

Her back is given an appreciative look as she turns to hang the dress up and he waits until she turns back around before pointing the way, following behind her.

It's not some poky, cramped, stuffed-in-a-corner en suite. It's a proper bathroom, complete with large tub and seperate shower. Ramon pushes his shorts off and lobs them in the direction of the laundry basket (missing by a mile) then turns the water on and holds the door open for her.

'After you.'

"Gonna wash my back?" she drawls over her shoulder at him, stepping into the enclosure.

"Fine with me, but I told you -- no shagging until you've bought me dinner and we've actually had a conversation first."

That doesn't stop her from reaching for him, her fingertips following the water as it runs down his chest. She looks up an him from beneath her lashes, green eyes dark and a little wild.

It didn't occur to him for a second that she might have been asking to use the shower on her own. She was in her underwear in his bedroom - that only means one thing to him.

'You never said anything about a conversation before.'

Once the door closes the glass steams over immediately and it's a wonderful thing to be able to raise his face and feel the hot water ease some ache out of his muscles. The fight seems a long time ago now.

Not as good as stepping into her space and running his hands down her sides though. And she looks at him like that, he kisses her. It's just the way it is.

It's the way it's always been between them, even the way his hands follow down to curve around her ass. She doesn't even give the pretence of resisting this time.

It's different, kissing this younger man. Hot water is washing away the sweat and blood and the smell of gun powder, and his scent surrounds her. It is very much his scent.

She sinks into him, and maybe he can feel something in the way she touches him. Maybe he's just too caught up in the hot naked guapa in his shower. She doesn't know. And right now, she tells herself it doesn't matter.

He's here. He's touching her.

He's hard before twenty seconds have passed and would be even without the adrenaline this evening has brought. She is beautiful even if he doesn't know what she expects of him, even if she seems ridiculously complicated most of the time.

'You looked good with that gun,' he murmurs, pressing his erection against the base of her abdomen. 'Really fucking hot.'

Her breasts press against his chest, and one hand skims down his side, down the hollow of his hip before curving around his shaft, her palm stroking down that hard ridge.

"Damn right I did. You don't still think I'm one of your throw away pieces of ass, do you?" She fondles him, nibbling along his jaw.

He's rather taken aback by that question though the hand on his cock is distracting enough to not let him really think about it.

'You don't act like a random puta, I'll give you that.'

He picks up the soap and starts running it over her back, feeling himself hot and heavy in her hand.

'And you obviously know how to handle yourself.'

She hums, loving the feel of his hands moving on her back.

"You don't know the half of it, Ramon. Dinner will get you a lot more than this," she squeezes his cock just under the head, sliding her grip all the way to the base, "in my tight pussy."

He groans without meaning to, taken by surprise.

'This isn't fair,' he points out a moment later. 'You already know what I like. Unless my tastes have changed in thirty years.'

He tilts his head to kiss her again, hard and hungry.

'I've only got your word for it that it's tight though. Why don't you just let me try it out for myself?'

So close, so close. He'd just have to pick her up and put her against the wall, slide in and find out if she's telling the truth. Seconds is all it would take.

She meets that kiss, just as fierce, rocking him back. When she speaks, her voice is low and hungry, almost a growl.

"Because. You have no idea what I like, and you don't care. And as much as I want you, and make no mistake, I want you," she brings that point home by quickening her stroke, her hand strong and sure, "I want you to care. Trust me, baby, I'm worth the wait."

It feels so good. He lifts his face to the water again for a brief moment, letting her work him, the muscles in his abdomen tensing a little in time with the stroke of her hand.

'So buying you dinner will make me care what you like in bed?'

Well. Stranger things have happened. He just has no concept of waiting for something you want, he doesn't understand how she can hold back if she really does want him. He looks at her, grins winningly and kisses her once more.

'You could always just tell me what you like. If I do it, everyone's happy.'

Simple. With the added bonus that she could tell him that right now and he wouldn't have to wait any more.

She laughs, groans, kisses him back, thrilling to the feel of him towering over her.

"You don't strike me as someone who takes direction very well, baby."

And he's getting there, she thinks. His hands have stayed in one place, and he hasn't gone for her tits yet. She switches her grip, focusing on that sensitive spot just beneath the head, wanting to feel him spill on her skin, wanting to see his face twisted up in bliss.

"Is that good, hmm?"

That pulls a moan from him that sounds more like he just lost his breath, once more taken by surprise. His eyes close and he presses forward towards her hand, wanting more.

'Could...give me the benefit of the...doubt. Maybe I'm...really good at...listening.'

The tightness of his voice and the way his (very obvious) muscles are flexing with every touch she gives him should let her know that he's close. He's not considerate enough to give her a heads up.

She breathes him in, knowing exactly where he is, exactly how far he has to go. Her motions slow, drawing it out for him.

"Yeah? Maybe you just know what you want and you take it, like you own it, like it's yours, hmm? Nothing wrong with that," she croons. "Nothing wrong with that at all. It's one of the things I love about you. But you don't know me, yet. And you want to know me."

She eases him up, catching the sounds he makes against her lips, kissing him, holding him close.

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