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A simple guide on how to seduce your lieutenant, as told by Eduardo (Lalo) Salamanca
The idea is irresistible once Lalo realizes how far Nacho Varga will go with the right motivation.
Lalo is normally as chaste as the Virgin – women are a petty inconvenience and men too much of a risk – so it is very, very special for someone to break through his usual skepticism. What Ignacio will do when pushed is both intriguing and dangerous. Best to keep him close. To control him. To wring out as much of that chaotic drive that he can by any means necessary.
So Lalo tells himself. Motivations matter less than what you actually achieve.
So Lalo tells himself.
1) Earn his interest with your interest.
The game is simple: silence; all in the eyes. Lalo still engages with Nacho, of course, but Nacho lives on a wavelength of nonverbal communication on his best days. He meets Nacho where he's at, and throws him simple glances, a flicker of interest behind his eyes, the faintest smile turning up his mouth, and the slightest tilt of his head, his shoulders to indicate where his thoughts must be going.
It works within two days. Nacho watches him as he speaks to Bolsa, nerves clearly sparking like fallen power lines. Lalo can't laugh – there is a time and place – but he's pleased down to his bones. A smile tilts his mouth, never reaches his eyes, and he finishes the meeting with a flourish.
"Things to do, people to meet," Lalo declares. "I can't imagine you have anything more for us? No?"
"No," Bolsa says, and the way he watches Lalo is very, very different from the way Nacho does. Lalo fucking loves it. Fear and frustration just fuel him to work harder, to prove that he's more than whatever monster they think he is. There's never a shortage of fuel. "Remember what I've said."
"Always," Lalo assures him, gives a short, deadpan bow, and slings his arm around Nacho. "Come, Ignacio. Leave the grownups to their very important talk."
Nacho is jumpy at Lalo's touch, but doesn't shift away from the contact until they're closer to the exit where the car is parked. "Was that a good idea?" he asks, very rhetorically.
"Ay, you worry too much," Lalo chides Nacho. Nacho looks wrung dry anyway. "Oh, Nachito," he teases, painfully wry. "Don't you think I know what I'm doing?"
Nacho stares at him, a storm brewing behind his eyes, then opens the car door and gets inside. Lalo can't help but laugh, then climbs behind the wheel and starts to drive, and chatters to a helpless Nacho as he goes.
"Do you ever think about the future, Ignacio?" Lalo asks, musing, percolating.
"No," Nacho says, to the point but not rude. What's fascinating about this man is how he is so direct, so clear, no bullshit, but with something brewing behind his expression that betrays so much more than the plain, measured sentences and idle expression he presents to the outside world.
Lalo contemplates that. "If you did," he needles Nacho, "what do you see?"
Nacho glances at him, a knowing expression on his face, and composes himself. "The business goes," he says finally. "I go with it."
Lalo grins. "Incredible," he declares, and nudges Nacho's shoulder. "Do you know what you are? You're crazy, man. Just the right kind of crazy."
Nacho's gaze goes askance, but he seems somewhere between amused and bothered. It's a fun microexpression to get out of him, really. "Thanks."
It pulses through Lalo before he can handle it more precisely, and he grips into the steering wheel as he thinks about acting too quickly, too rashly.
Nacho sits there in silence, wondering what he's thinking, and Lalo can only hope beyond hope that his mind is on the same track as Lalo's. If not – well. All in good time.
2) Stay distant; make him question his own feelings.
After two weeks of this – touching, eye contact, affection at just enough of a distance – Lalo pulls back, suddenly, without any warning.
Lalo has made it so natural for Nacho to expect this warmth that even the most casual, acquaintance-level communication is abandonment in the cold of the desert night. He doesn't consider himself a master manipulator, but there are a few things he knows how to do, and one of them – without question – is hurting another person.
This is, of course, hurting him for his own good. Nacho will be happier when he's conceded himself over to Lalo. He's clearly miserable and bothered as he currently is. Things are too boring for him. Once he breaks in that very special way, the one Lalo always treasures, Nacho will find happiness on the other side.
Lalo does miss the conversations and warmth a little, but it is what it is. Nacho needs to suffer out in the cold to figure out what he's missing, or he'll never realize what it is he's accidentally forged with Lalo after all.
One week is simple cold; the second is frigid. Lalo feels Nacho watching him as he handles a situation with the usual flippancy, and Lalo barely glances at him as the door of the restaurant closes, tilting his head to prompt Nacho to speak.
"So?" Nacho asks abruptly. "What's up?"
This is about as confrontational as Lalo's ever seen Nacho get with someone who hasn't crossed the cartel or fucked up somehow. Lalo is a little bothered, stupidly, but mostly delighted to see the upset.
"What do you think?" Lalo returns, a little smile playing on his lips. "What do you say, Nachito? Do you want to dance?"
"What?" Nacho's totally blindsided by that one.
"Ay, poor thing," Lalo says, unable to contain himself much further. "What's going through that head of yours?"
Nacho stands there, still, his expression blank but a nasty fire burning behind his eyes. "Nothing," he says. "Should there be?"
Lalo grins outright, and gestures with his head for Nacho to follow him out to the car. Nacho obeys. Nacho burns.
3) When it's time, take him. He's yours.
Wooing him back is easy. Nacho falls into the pattern not out of weak compliance but in full knowledge of what Lalo is doing. He's not stupid. He's far from stupid. He just knows he's been caught, and he's slowly trying to allow himself to give in.
Lalo sees Nacho sitting in his apartment, drinking his beer, and sees the thoughts flowing through Nacho's mind, written as they are across what passes as an expression on his face. Lalo contemplates him, knows Nacho burns the longer that Lalo considers him. He deliberately stands, sets his empty glass aside, and moves to sit beside Nacho on the couch.
Nacho tenses fractionally, but doesn't otherwise move, and Lalo slings his arm around Nacho, calm and friendly. "It's good to have you," he says freely, honestly. "True company is hard to find in our business."
"Yeah." Nacho scoffs a little, but something unsure is in his expression now, something nearly spooked. Lalo touches his cheek, contact that sends a sudden emotional jolt through both of them, then slips his hand around to the back of Nacho's neck to bring him in for a kiss on the mouth. Nacho sits still, his breaths shaky, but Lalo kisses him again, draws his mouth open. Nacho breaks, the tiniest trembling going through his body where it's pressed against Lalo, and he pours himself into the kisses, the faintest emotion breaking through.
Lalo is so turned on in a raging, sudden rush that he shoves Nacho back down against the couch and straddles him. Nacho makes a sound, but he shifts into a better position, and puts his hands on Lalo's hips. Lalo keeps kissing him until Nacho makes a very attractive sound that almost sounds like approval, and he arches his cock into Nacho's thigh as he breaks to press a kiss to Nacho's cheek.
"Ignacio," he murmurs. "Do you want it?"
Nacho looks like he's having ten thoughts at once, totally scrambled, then he runs his hands up Lalo's sides, tipping his head up to indicate he wants to keep going.
Lalo isn't having it. "Tell me you want it, Nachito."
Nacho loves this, whether he realizes it or not, already getting hard under Lalo. "Yes," he whispers, and Lalo teases him with an almost kiss. Nacho realizes what he's missing, holds Lalo's gaze, makes him burn so hard inside he could rage, could murder, could taste blood. Lalo fumes in the best possible way, then Nacho says, deliberate and provocative, "I want it."
Lalo loses it. He presses Nacho down, kisses him in confused fury and lust, then he undoes Nacho's pants and slips his hand inside to tease him. Nacho's breath catches, and Lalo strokes his cock, brings him slowly to Lalo's level. "Oh," Nacho says apparently involuntarily, and Lalo brushes kisses along Nacho's neck as he gets Nacho as hard as he can.
"I want you," Lalo murmurs into his skin, then pulls his hand away from Nacho's cock to outright pull Nacho's pants down far enough to give him access. He nudges Nacho to his side, kisses him a few times on the mouth to reassure him, then strokes Nacho's cock outright once or twice just for fun.
"Seriously," Nacho murmurs as Lalo moves his hand away again, but he ignores that, shifts Nacho so he can spread him open and calmly spit to start with a single finger. Nacho doesn't react how Lalo expected; the breath goes out of him in a rush, and he relaxes. Interesting.
Lalo is going to lose his fucking mind if he doesn't fuck Nacho soon. Everything else in his brain is graffitied out with the red of lust. He fucks with Nacho anyway, presses a second finger inside of him, makes him shift and ache and release faint sounds until he speaks again, the word soft against Nacho's cheek.
"Now?" Lalo whispers.
There's something new in Nacho's tone – something unsteady. Lalo's broken through. "Yes."
Lalo could fucking scream with the power behind each of his heartbeats right now. "Yeah. Good." He keeps it understated, wry, but he spits again to press his cock slowly inside of Nacho. Nacho takes it so well, flutters in just the way that Lalo likes, and this is all so much better than it should be. Was this a good idea?
Lalo shifts Nacho so he can kiss along his neck, jaw, mouth, as he starts to fuck him. Nacho is trying not to give it away, and he's trying not to give away that he's trying not to give it away, but the flush along his skin, the shortness of his breaths, the few sounds he lets escape; he's just as hot for this as Lalo is. He feels good, but Lalo is enjoying Nacho's cock, too, stroking it, appreciating its size. Later.
Lalo hums, so aroused he thinks he can taste it in the back of his mouth, and Nacho releases a ragged, breathy sound that almost makes Lalo come on the spot. "Very good," Lalo murmurs, and jerks Nacho's cock harder as he fucks slower, deeper. Nacho arches, moans, and Lalo is a fucking mess, tangled up in two ways too many. Lalo tries again. "You want me to come inside you?" he asks softly.
Nacho has a tremor break through him, his hips jerking his cock forward into Lalo's hand. "Yeah," he says, and Lalo knows he's broken through because even Ignacio fucking Varga has emotion in his voice. Lalo grips into Nacho's throat, fucks him as he just barely chokes him, and Nacho takes it, rides back into Lalo's cock and forward into Lalo's hand.
"Come." Lalo fucks him in firm, sharp strokes, and bites just a little into his neck. "Come," he hisses, knives in his tone.
Nacho makes a weak sound and comes, and Lalo grips hard into Nacho, hard enough to bruise, and fucks him into oblivion, into oversensitivity, until Nacho makes a desperate sound that sets Lalo off and makes him come hard inside of him. Lalo bites into Nacho's neck again, a pointed, territorial thing he can't resist, and Nacho gasps into the pain, his breaths evening out just barely as Lalo kisses along his neck.
"How are you?" Lalo whispers.
"I'm fine." Nacho looks at the come on his hand. "I should – "
"By all means." Lalo can't resist a smile as Nacho gets up, pulls his pants up, and disappears to the bathroom.
There's no going back from here, and that's exactly what Lalo wants.
How to seduce the man who can keep your father from being killed, by Ignacio (Nacho) Varga
At this point, Nacho doesn't have a lot to live for.
For as long as he can remember, the only thing that mattered in his family was doing a hard day's work that resulted in something to be proud of. The store was never going to be a raging success story, but it's well-respected and does good work, and Nacho is extremely proud of his own work and investment in the store itself.
As far as reasons to live go, the existence of a shop is kind of grim, but it's better than nothing. Joining the cartel was a walk down a steep hill, only needing a single stumble – one single key to sell on his own – to send him right to the bottom of the moral pit that is working for the cartel. Then it's a matter of pride. Of doing your work well. Having something to be proud of.
It all got fucked up. Now his dad's pissed, upset. Now his dad's one Salamanca or Fring situation from getting capped, when his only crime was raising a fucking idiot.
Nacho won't be a fucking idiot. Not when it comes to this. He can be dangerous. He can go too far. He'll go as far as he has to.
No one – no one – touches his dad.
1) Let him believe what he wants to believe.
It's been a week since Lalo fucked Nacho for the first time, and Lalo is satisfied in the most casually smug way, like he's released a breath he was holding for longer than Nacho was even aware. The smile still never goes completely to Lalo's eyes – if it did, it would probably scare Nacho even more than the missing element actually does – but there's a more genuine, sincere tilt to his tone when he talks to Nacho. There's an affection that scares the fuck out of Nacho, because he's not a fucking idiot and he knows what Lalo Salamanca is.
He's a Salamanca. Lalo can't be trusted. He's a monster. Nacho came up with Tuco, he knows Tuco as well as the Salamancas do, or nearly, and all of the fucked up shit that Tuco and Hector do is echoed completely in every movement of Lalo's fucking face and the weird fucking tinge that comes into his voice sometimes. Even if Lalo has a crush, or more, Nacho is only safe as long as he stays on Lalo's good side. Nacho's dad is only safe as long as he stays on Lalo's good side.
So. Let him believe what he wants to believe. Make a new normal. He lets Lalo take him back to his place after a meeting, and Lalo comfortably pulls him into making out as though this is totally normal and real and some kind of genuine connection. It's a joke. But Nacho kisses him, threads himself in with Lalo, stitches a part of him against Lalo's mind with as tight and perfect a seam as he can imagine.
Lalo hums with pleasure into the kiss with Nacho, then draws back, touches his face, looks fond and wry. "Do you want to?" he asks simply.
It's a challenge. Maybe. Nacho stares at him, his heartbeat stammering, and seconds stretch out way too fucking long. "Please," he murmurs, instead of anything else, and Lalo breaks in front of him, seizes Nacho against him with a hard grip by the side and the back of the neck and into a hard, pointed kiss.
It triggers something in Nacho's brain that he absolutely can't afford, the way Lalo manhandles him against the wall and uses points of pain, teeth and harsh grips and too much pressure. Nacho's body takes it like the fucking Konami code to his cock and mind that it is, and he gasps during the break, way too fucking hot with it. Lalo laughs softly against his skin, digs his fingernails into Nacho's side and shoves him up against the wall, his cock hard against Nacho's body. Nacho shudders, wants before he can stop himself.
"Again," Lalo murmurs again, presses soft, barely-there kisses to Nacho's neck, and Nacho's brain is barely working. He arches against Lalo, his instinct to want the pressure of his cock, but Lalo tuts at him and whispers another time. "Again."
Nacho puts it together a second later, and a shiver breaks through him as he realizes what the hell is going on.
He has to do this. He wants to. He absolutely fucking can't.
"Please," Nacho says softly, and Lalo laughs just as softly against his neck. Lalo drags him by the wrist through the apartment, and without any conversation just bends Nacho over the edge of the bed with the ease of someone who's done this way too often. Nacho can't believe he's doing this, but he also knows his own dating history. This is definitely a huge mistake, but he's never been good at picking a good idea. Ever.
Nacho knows instinctively that he's not supposed to move, but Lalo pulls down his pants and shifts him so he can stroke his cock from this position. Nacho's breath staggers out, and Lalo makes a satisfied sound as he continues to tease Nacho. "I like this," Lalo whispers. "Don't you, Nachito?"
Nacho doesn't want to answer that, so he doesn't, then Lalo's hand slams against his ass and he grinds forward into Lalo's hand. "When I ask a question, you answer," Lalo says, conversational about it. "So? Do you like it?"
"Fuck," Nacho manages, so hard and in the most fucked up headspace he's been in for a while. Only a few people have ever gotten him this desperate for a fuck. "Lalo, please."
"I'll take that as a yes," Lalo decides, grandiose about it, then strokes his hand down Nacho's back. "Oh, I think I know what you like. I think I do."
Nacho feels dread try to soak through him, but he's too turned on to let it fully register. It doesn't get much of a chance, anyway, because Lalo's got some kind of lube on his hand now and starts to jerk him off. Nacho groans, wishes he had the guts or the brains or the sanity to get away from this, but he's massively overruled by how good this feels. "Don't come," Lalo whispers, breath hot against his ear. "If you come, I won't fuck you."
The part of Nacho that isn't completely delirious thinks that sounds like a good plan, as though being jerked off by Lalo Salamanca is somehow preferable to being fucked in the ass by him, but that part of him stands no chance against the way Lalo keeps talking to him. Nacho is so hard, so sensitive, but the closer he gets the harder he strains not to give in. It feels so good, intensifies as he goes, almost hurts but in a way that makes his vision blur.
He's a sweating, panting mess, silent besides his breathing, and Lalo presses a kiss against his ear, a fond little gesture. "How do you feel?" he whispers, barely audible, as he jerks Nacho for what might be the fifth or twentieth minute as far as Nacho can tell.
"Fucking amazing," Nacho blurts out, and wishes it had been part of a plan. Lalo makes an intense, desperate sort of ground out sound, and within a handful of seconds he's lubed up and pressing his cock directly inside of Nacho with no prep. Nacho nearly buckles into the bed, but Lalo grips into his hips in warning, and Nacho breathes out harshly as Lalo goes just enough inches not to completely fuck up whatever kind of scene this is.
Lalo seems weirdly shaky up there. "Yes," he says, decisive, obsessive, and starts to fuck Nacho only a few merciful thrusts before fucking him hard against the bed.
Nacho loses his grip. He dissolves into the moment. He is this.
He can hate himself later. Right now, he just wants to come so hard he has a vision of the Virgin Mary. Call this place a shrine.
2) Play the long game.
Lalo executes someone within the first month.
Nacho isn't under the impression that some people matter less in the organization than others, but it's not like he pulled what Nacho did and took out a boss. Some random dealer mouthed off just the wrong way, Lalo was not happy, and nature took its course.
So, whatever, dumping bodies. It's fine. This is not the worst thing Nacho has done recently by a long shot.
He feels kind of badly for Gabe, though. He was a good kid when he wasn't letting his mouth write checks his ass couldn't cash. This isn't the kind of world where someone with the wrong name and the wrong attitude can fight their way to the top. This is the kind of world where you won't even make it into a bodybag if you try.
Nacho considers the grave they've dug before he gets back into the car with Lalo, and thinks about sharing one with his dad. It might not be the worst way to go into eternity, side by side with a father who doesn't completely understand why this happened but has never hesitated to eventually forgive.
Lalo claps him on the shoulder, and Nacho heads back to the car, stays quiet, lets Lalo fuck around with music, and is very relieved that Lalo lets him just sit and think. Lalo only speaks once they've pulled into the garage and the door is shutting behind them.
"You okay?" he asks Nacho, obviously checking in.
Fuck, he means it. Nacho stares at him in a little disbelief, and Lalo's smile goes wry. "Are you surprised?" he goes on. "What did you think?"
"I don't know." Nacho doesn't look away from him. "What are you doing?"
"Right now, I'm getting out of the car," Lalo says, that teasing little lilt in his tone, and he hops out of the car, in too good of a mood. Nacho steps out of the car, paces ahead, tries to cool off, and Lalo calmly reaches out to grab him by the shirt and pull him two steps closer. "What did you think?" he repeats, in Nacho's face and decisive about it this time.
"I don't know," Nacho repeats again, more pointed this time. "This is all – " He glances away, and Lalo taps his cheek, guides his gaze back. "This is fucked up," he tells Lalo outright. Fuck it. He needs to know the truth.
"Nachito." Lalo laughs, delighted and sardonic. "We have no hope of salvation. Why ask for forgiveness from a priest or try to stay – good, when everything, everything we do is a sin?" Nacho stares at him again, his heart sinking. "Aren't you enjoying yourself?" Lalo says softly. "One month, and you have been… fantastic. Just fantastic."
Nacho has no idea what this feeling in his chest is, this knot, this confusion and terror and awful, heavy despair with a kind of lightness taking away the reality of it all. "Show me," he whispers to Lalo. "I don't see it."
Lalo breathes, something intense in his expression, then he yanks Nacho into a hard kiss, manhandling him back against the hood of the car. Nacho feels the craziest, most fucking deranged bolt of arousal break through him, and he has to remind himself as firmly as he can by the time Lalo's sucking his cock as good as some of the best he's had.
This is a game. You're playing a game. You might even win. Just wait.
Nacho sinks back against the hood of the car as Lalo lifts his head, totally fucked up again, and Lalo gets close to him, body pressed against his, Lalo's cock hard against his thigh. Nacho's brain goes haywire at the contact, and Lalo has mischief in his face, his voice, when he whispers into Nacho's face. "Beg."
Nacho has to let him believe that this is what he wants. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want to do this. He's just so fucked up, so fucked over, that he'll never be able to say no.
"Please." Nacho arches against Lalo as Lalo brushes a brief kiss to his mouth, and laughs, low and overwhelmed. "Please, Lalo."
"Good," Lalo pronounces, and Nacho surrenders to the moment. Lalo fucks him on the hood of the car, kisses him as they go, and Nacho completely melts into the arousal and need.
Let him believe what he wants. It's better that he doesn't know.
Once he knows, everything falls apart.
3) Don't fall.
Nacho listens to Lalo talk, a lot. Like, a lot. Lalo talks about the business, but he talks about little theories he has about things, about things he's read, about recipes he's thinking about, thousands of little things that are annoyingly making Lalo into less of a horrifying monster and more just an awful person that Nacho knows intimately in all senses of the word.
Lalo loves talking after sex, especially, and he sometimes even manages to get Nacho into what passes as a conversation with someone as nonverbal as Nacho. This time it's about food, a subject that Lalo's even more interested in than Nacho had guessed at first, and he teases Nacho about his tastes, punctuates his comments with a kiss or two, and Nacho feels it lift inside of him before he realizes what's happening. A laugh escapes him, a little smile, and the horror takes one second more to strike Nacho as he realizes what's happening.
Lalo strokes his cheek, something confusing in his eyes, something that's both very him and completely new. "You're fine," he tells Nacho, matter-of-fact. "You're allowed to like me, Ignacio."
"Really?" Nacho asks dryly, and Lalo taps his cheek in a jokingly chiding way. Lalo kisses him then, more to it, insinuating, and Nacho tries to grip into reality, into himself, to understand what he's doing here.
Don't fall.
Whatever you do, don't fall.