Title: Twice

Summary: Depravity, force, and perversion. They are Sands. A companion piece to "Both." ONESHOT.

Rated: M, for sexual content and language.

Disclaimers: I do not own Once Upon a Time in Mexico, directed by Robert Rodriguez in association with Columbia Pictures and Dimension Films, nor any of the characters affiliated with it. Credit given to Ernest Hemingway. I only own the characters of James and Cindy Pauling.

Author's Notes: This is a companion piece to "Both." You can read them in any order, they support each other equally. It's written in the same style, only this time he is with Pauling's wife. It's a bit more brutal because the girl is not as submissive, but it's still Sands, taking what he wants when he wants it. Only it's a girl this time. I don't like it as much as my slash piece, but, hey. There is a time where you must shoot the engineer, and I've played with it quite enough.


"It's about time."

"I'm on time by my watch."

"Then it's slow."

"Nah. You're just fast."

A swung hand. A caught wrist. A slow smirk.

"Slow down, sweets. Slow down. Wait until we've actually gotten to that part."

"There won't be any 'that part' if you keep saying shit like that to me."

"Lying doesn't suit you."

"Oh, really? Then why are we still alive?"

"I don't know why you're still alive, but I'm still alive because lying does suit me."

"I hate you."

"That's why you let me do this."

Bruising kisses. A soft moan. Whispers of hands over clothed bodies.

"I can still hate you and want you at the same time."

"What did I just say about lying?"

A muffled response. A hiked skirt. The hissing intake of breath. Teasing fingers.

"You're…you're not wasting time today."

"Neither are you—what were you up to before I got here, or am I just that hot?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would—but you're not going to tell me, so I'd best just get to it."

Bodies collide. Hands slide under fabric. Palms grip and squeeze. Long fingers tease and brutalize.

"Bed—the bed, Jeff—"

"I don't need it."

"I want—ow, my arm, you're twisting—!"

"Go with the flow, babe, and it won't hurt."

A loud thump as a body is pressed against the wall. Hands push back.

"Goddammit, you're hurting me!"

"You know you like it—I can tell. Besides, even if you don't like it, I like it."

A skirt is pushed upwards. Panties glide uselessly to the floor.

"God, Jeff—let me turn, I want to see—"

"Shut up, Cindy."

A short gasp. An arm twists higher. The sound of a belt being unbuckled, followed by a zipper being released.

"Jeff—"

"Do you want me to fuck you or not, Cindy?"

"Christ's sake—"

"Ask me nicely."

"Yes, Jeff!"

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I want you to fuck me, I just wanted to turn around!"

"I like it when you sound so mad at me. Face the wall."

A truncated response. Merciless thrusts. Brutal crushing against a wall. Fingers dig deep into flesh. Feminine groans, gasps, and moans.

"Stop—squeezing so—hard!"

"Shut the fuck up, Cindy."

Painful groping. Fingers drive low, working towards release. Sharp biting. A hand tangled into hair, pressing a flushed cheek harder against a wall.

"Jeff, I'm gonna—!"

A short cry. Wet fingers trail across a flat stomach. A muted grunt. Motion slows.

"God…why couldn't I have met you first, instead of him?"

"Because affairs are much more fun."

"Not when your husband is a second in a drug outfit."

"That makes it more exciting."

"Can we sit now?"

"I'm comfortable."

"I don't give a shit about how you feel—I want to sit down!"

A low chuckle. Clothes are picked back up. The zipper slides back into place.

"You got a cigarette, Jeff?"

"Of course I do."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Are you going to give me one or not?"

"I'm not. They're bad for you."

"Fucker."

"You should know."

The crackle of plastic. The flick of a lighter.

"Dammit, just give me one. This is the only time I can smoke."

"Just accuse him. He'll let you smoke if you blackmail him."

"I don't want to lose that trump card yet. Not until I find out what little homo he's boning on the side."

"If you haven't found him now, what makes you think you will?"

"I don't know. I just wanna catch 'em together—turn them both in. Good payback for marrying me as a beard, that stupid shit."

"Well, you hold it for too long, he'll catch you at it first."

"He won't. He's probably off with his boy-toy now. Too busy cocksucking to think about what I'm doing."

"I say we go public at the meeting. Who knows how many he's been with—I mean, the nineteen-year-old is just one. Just show the photos, he gets taken out, I get everything."

"We get everything."

"We are 'I' for convenience sake."

"Fine, fine—anyway, you'd better go. I've got girlfriends coming."

"That's incentive to stay, not go."

"Oh, get out."

"Man—this has that nice prostitute feel to it. I like it."

"Get the fuck out, you goddamn bastard!"

"Whatever you say. Just pick up the phone if that itch comes back. Oh, and here—have a quarter."

A door slams, blocking both the sound of a scream and the heavy glass ashtray whizzing through the air.


Don't expect to see the story of Cindy and James—I'm not that comfortable with Sands's character to play with him in a huge story. This is where it ends, with this companion piece. Hope they gel…if they don't fit together, please tell me.

Thank you for reading, please tell me what was good and what was bad.