"You want a party, baby? Keep those D tabs coming.”
There was something about the way Miguel said those words that brought goose bumps to his skin. Alonzo Torquemada usually welcomed the experience the raised points of skin gave him. The heightened sense of touch made him feel alive. This time he was left feeling empty.
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He had wanted Miguel. He wanted-no, needed-to run his fingers over his muscles. To trace the angles of his face. To stroke the scar that ran across his skin. To taste Miguel.
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It had come to him one day while in the gym. Salt. Just the thought of it made his mouth water. He was standing over Miguel, watching him as he lifted the barbell.
“What?” Torquemada just smiled and looked into Miguel’s eyes. “What the fuck do you want?”
“That hurts, Miguel. I thought you knew me.” He leaned toward him and placed his hand over Miguel’s. His thumb skimmed over Miguel’s knuckles, tracing every ridge and valley. Miguel watched his finger run over his hand then yanked his hand away.
“Whatever you want, I won’t give.” He threw the barbell by Torquemada’s feet and walked away.
Torquemada ran his thumb along his lower lip then slid it into his mouth. He closed his eyes and savored the taste in his mouth. Miguel. He flicked the tip of his tongue along the pad of his tongue. Miguel. He swirled it around his entire finger, replacing it with Miguel in his mind.
Miguel.
Salt.
Miguel.
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Miguel was addictive. Much more potent than any drug he manufactured or sold. Just one taste, one lick and you are done for.
For many drug dealers, the drugs they sell are just another part of life. A means for profit. Torquemada was not like the majority of drug dealers. Destiny was not made for a profit - that was an added perk. Destiny was made out of love. Love for freedom. Love for self-expression. Love. Pure and simple. He was sharing the love he felt as he moved along the dance floors of his clubs. It was an extension of himself, of his love for the night. Destiny was his baby.
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Destiny. D-tabs. Pump. Spark. Different names, same drug, same experience.
Pupils dilate. Skin sensitizes. Any touch, however slight, sends wave after wave of pleasure throughout the body. The heart races, blood flows like a torrent through the veins, skin flushes. The mind processes every experience at an astonishing rate and craves more. And it takes just one taste. Just one taste and you are hooked.
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“Just one taste, Miguel,” Torquemada whispered to Miguel as they sat in the computer room. Using his tongue, he traced the curve of Miguel’s ear and flicked the lobe gently. “Just one taste and you’re done for.”