Chapter Five: Wuse Whispers

Wuse, Abuja – March 5, 2026, 10:22 p.m.

The new safe house was this tight two bedroom flat sitting above a closed tailoring shop in Wuse Zone 2. No real fan just a window unit rattling and spitting cold air in weak bursts. Walls thin enough you could hear the neighbors fighting like they were in the same room. Mama T had shifted them here three days earlier, right after the Garki tip line started buzzing with anonymous calls pointing at “two Lagos boys hiding nearby.” No raid had come yet, but the waiting felt like dust in your throat.

Chino and Wale had the smaller room, single mattress jammed against the wall, a thin curtain hanging where a door should be. They lay naked under one sheet, skin slick with sweat even with the AC trying its best. Wale’s leg was slung over Chino’s hip, hand heavy on his chest like he was staking claim. The day’s weight still hung between them lawyer meeting earlier, affidavits signed, video screenshots clipped to the asylum draft.

Aisha, the lawyer soft voice, diaspora NGO hadn’t sugarcoated it. “Canada’s taking Nigerians at around 65% overall in 2025 better numbers than before. But LGBTQ claims? Credibility is the killer. They need proof: the viral video helps, family threats, raid stories. The internal flight question is the trap ‘Why not just move somewhere else in Nigeria?’ We argue there’s no safe place under SSMPA. No convictions since 2014, but arrests, extortion, beatings keep rolling. That Kano raid in October 2025, 25 people pulled from what they called a gay wedding. Hisbah crashing in. It’s a pattern.”

She’d looked at them over her glasses. “UK is harsher. They call Nigeria ‘safe’ for men assume no real danger. Queer claims get dismissed quick. High rejections. Canada gives better odds, but waits go years. Hearings, appeals. Some get through; plenty stay stuck in limbo.”

Now in the dark, Wale traced Chino’s jaw with his fingertips. “You believe her? Say we fit touch down in Toronto or Vancouver, walk hand in hand without checking every shadow?”

Chino turned, kissed the palm. “I believe we try. Better than rotting here, waiting for Pastor Victor’s deliverance crew or a knock from police.”

Wale’s hand drifted lower, wrapping around Chino’s softening cock, stroking lazy until it thickened again. “Then make we remind ourselves why we dey fight.”

Chino groaned quiet, rolled on top. Their mouths met slow, deep, tongues moving like they were rediscovering each other. Chino kissed down Wale’s neck, chest, nipples peaking under teeth and tongue. Wale arched, whispering, “Lower.”

Chino went. Kissed belly, hip bones, inner thighs. Took Wale into his mouth slow suck, tongue flat along the underside, swirling the head. Wale’s hips lifted, fingers in Chino’s hair, guiding deeper. Wet sounds filled the room quiet, close. Chino hummed, the vibration pulling a gasp.

“Chino… fuck, your mouth…”

Chino pulled off, spat into his palm, stroked Wale slick while licking lower balls, perineum, then tongue pressing flat against his hole. Wale moaned louder; Chino covered his mouth gently. “Shh. Walls thin.”

Wale bit the palm playful bite. Chino circled with his tongue, then pushed inside slow, wet thrusts. Wale trembled, cock leaking steady. Chino added fingers one, two curling to hit that spot while his mouth worked the head again.

Wale came hard body seizing, spilling down Chino’s throat. Chino swallowed, licked clean, then rose to kiss him deep so Wale tasted himself.

“Your turn,” Wale rasped, pushing Chino onto his back.

He straddled, grinding cock against cock slick with spit and cum, sliding together. Wale reached back, guided Chino’s thick length to his entrance still loose from the tongue. Sank down slow inch by inch until he was fully seated. Both groaned low.

Wale rode slow rolls at first, then faster, hips snapping. Chino gripped his waist, thrusting up to meet. Skin slapped in quiet rhythm. Wale leaned forward, mouths crashing. “Come inside me. Mark me again. So even if dem deny the papers, I carry you.”

Chino flipped them Wale on his back, legs over shoulders. Pounded deep hard, claiming. Every thrust felt like we exist. Political fire in every move: fuck the SSMPA, the military ban still hanging from 2024, the pastors, the raids. Wale clawed at his shoulders, nails biting in.

Chino came buried deep pulsing, filling. Wale stroked himself through a second orgasm, stripes across his belly.

They collapsed, panting. Cum leaked slow as Chino pulled out. Wale scooped some, fed it to Chino fingers sucked clean.

“Love you,” Chino whispered, forehead to forehead.

“Love you more. We go win this.”

They cleaned with bottled water and a rag. Lay tangled, listening to Abuja night, distant traffic, azan fading out, church bells ringing somewhere far.

At 1:37 a.m., the burner buzzed Chioma.

Pastor Victor dey post again. Live video from Abuja hotel say ‘God send me find lost sons. Deliverance by fire this weekend.’ He tag locations near Wuse. Adanna message me secret Papa dey plan come Abuja with uncles. Say make dem ‘bring you home for prayer camp.’ She beg run. She cry say she love you but fear Papa more.

Chino showed Wale. Wale’s jaw tightened.

“Mama T say application submit tomorrow. Biometrics if we get interview slot. But if raid come first…”

Chino pulled him closer. “We no go wait. If knock come, we scatter new spot, new city. Or airport if papers move fast.”

Hope burned quiet in the plan: Canada’s 65% approval for Nigerians in 2025 better than before. LGBTQ grounds recognized. Evidence strong viral video, threats, arrest patterns. Diaspora lawyers fighting the “internal flight” excuse. Some made it; stories of queer Nigerians landing in Toronto, starting over.

Devastation loomed: waits stretching years. Rejections if “not credible” need to prove no safe corner in Nigeria. UK shut the door Nigeria “safe” for men, queer claims tossed fast. Pastor Victor closing in. Family hunting. Police maybe already tipped. SSMPA still the tool for extortion and raids Kano 2025 case still raw.

Ambiguous dawn: Application filed tomorrow approval or denial? Pastor find them? Family show up? Raid tonight? Fly out on some miracle visa? Or underground forever new names, new hiding?

Chino kissed Wale’s temple. “We no go break.”

Wale nodded, hand over Chino’s heart. “No break. Just bend small. Then rise.”

Outside, Abuja slept uneasy powerful city, blind to two men clinging in the dark. Sirens distant. Prayers mixing. Threats circling.

But inside, bodies warm, hearts synced.

Still waiting for the verdict from court, from country, from the God they no longer feared.

Still loving. Still fighting.