#Javier Peña x Black female reader | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 1 year

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Just Friends (Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags 🏷 18+ only, minors dni. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be.

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration.

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men.

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date.

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time.

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña.

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb.

Of course he knew Valeria.

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different.

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you.

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things.

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home.

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you.

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse.

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.”

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again.

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed.

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him.

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole.

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you.

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him.

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.”

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile.

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good.

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch.

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier.

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin.

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him.

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide.

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor.

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him.

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen.

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself.

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true.

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge.

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely.

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you.

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come.

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release.

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely.

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants.

“J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder.

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—”

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you.

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow?

#javier peña #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña x y/n #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña fic #javier peña angst #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena #pedro pascal characters #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #javier peña smut #narcos smut #javier pena smut

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strang3lov3 · 11 months

Text

Lookalike

Soft Dom!Joel x Fem Reader

Summary: Joel stumbles upon your dirty mag, noticing your favorite pages bear a striking resemblance to himself! Takes place in Jackson sometime after TLOU

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUT!!! This is not fluffy even a little bit, kind of pervy joel, kind of sleazy too, smut, female masturbation, cunnilingus, soft dom!joel, shy reader, consensual PIV sex, humiliation kinda, joel loves a full bush, begging, joel is dominant but not like, aggressive?? let me know if I missed any

A/N: Y’all, I am very very very proud of this one! Please enjoy this depravity. And have a lovely holiday weekend <3 I am just a few shy of 1k followers, but consider this my thank you for all of your support 😸💗

Edit: we’re at 1k!!! Thank you so much holy shit!!

If you really like this story, please leave me a comment! Check out my masterlist

Javier Peña is Joel’s pornstar doppelgänger. I don’t make the rules.

After a long day, Joel was ready to relax and enjoy a bonfire with you. It’s how you spent a lot of summer nights in Jackson, you and Joel and sometimes Ellie just sitting around the fire, sharing stories and shooting the shit.

Tonight Ellie was at Dina’s having a sleepover, leaving just you and Joel together. It was nice to spend nights alone with Joel. Sometimes you’d talk about anything and everything and other nights you’d just share a comfortable silence. After everything you went through on your way to Jackson, it was nice to enjoy some peaceful nights with Joel.

Upstairs, Joel changed into some plaid pajama pants and a slim fitting t-shirt and made his way through the hall and to the top of the staircase, his heavy footsteps alerting you of his presence.

“Joel?” you shouted to him from the kitchen. You were preparing a snack in preparation for the bonfire. “Can you grab me a hair tie please?”

You were peeling apples and slicing bread to make pudgy pies for you and Joel to share. It’s one of the campfire snacks he introduced to you and Ellie. Back before the outbreak, he said, people would use canned pie filling or peanut butter and Nutella as filling for the toasted sandwiches. Now you had to get more creative, so you opted for spiced and sugared apple slices. You preferred berries, but apples were Joel’s favorite filling for dessert. You didn’t mind. He used to make these for his daughter.

“Where can I find one?” he called back.

“On my bedside table, right by the lamp,” you stepped closer to the staircase so you didn’t have to raise your voice as much. “It should just be a plain black one.”

Joel nodded and walked to your room. At your bedside table, he didn’t see any hair ties. Just some jewelry and a comic book Ellie lent you that she wanted you to read. Perhaps it was in the drawer?

Joel opened the drawer and rummaged around your belongings. There was a bottle of your favorite almond scented lotion from the local soap maker, your journal and some pencils, but no hair tie. He should have called out to you to ask if there was another spot your hair tie might be at, but curiosity got the better of him. He knew it was wrong to snoop through your personal belongings, but he couldn’t help himself.

Joel pulled the drawer out a little further and lifted your journal up. His eyes widened at what he saw. It wasn’t your hair tie, that was for damn sure.

Under your journal was an ancient porno magazine, probably from the 70s or 80s. Joel didn’t bother checking for a date. He had to know what the hell was in this old ass magazine that you were using to get yourself off. He remembered these kinds of magazines from when he was a teenager. They were often tacky and somewhat over the top compared to the explicit videos he’d watched on the internet before the outbreak, but they did the job. Who was he to judge?

Joel sat on your bed and flipped through the pages of the magazine. There were women in frilly chiffon lingerie with bushy and unkempt pussies, just the way he liked them. That was one nice thing about the outbreak, a lot of women ditched the beauty standards of the 90s and 2000s and went au naturale. Joel loved it as a young man then and he still loves it now, decades later.

The magazine nearly flipped itself open to one particular centerfold. It was a man fucking a woman from behind, her back arched and hair covering her face. They were at the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the retro floral duvet cover. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t her who captured Joel’s attention. It was the man.

He was tall, dark, and handsome with a thick downturned mustache, not unlike Joel’s. He had dark hair and dark eyes as well. Even his nose was similar to Joels, strong and sharp with a curve. Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. The pages were worn and the corners were dog eared, leading Joel to believe that these must be your favorite pages. His ego soared, as if it needed to be any bigger. He always had a feeling that you had a thing for him.

Downstairs, you were growing irritated. “What is taking so long?” you muttered to yourself. Joel was taking forever to find the hair tie you had so neatly placed next to the lamp on your bedside table. After turning off the burner of the stove, you paced through the kitchen and up the stairs.

“You are such a man, you know? You guys are terrible at looking for things. If it was a snake it would have bit you,” you grumbled out, half talking to yourself and half talking to Joel. You opened your mouth to continue speaking as you walked into your room but froze when you saw Joel on the bed, thumbing through the pages of your dirty secret.

“I found your spank bank,” Joel taunted with sarcasm, not yet looking at you. He flipped through a couple more pages before turning to face you, his intense stare meeting your flustered expression.

You were frozen in embarrassment, completely unable to speak, unable to move. Your face felt like it was on fire and you could hear your heart pound in your ears.

Joel’s low and gravelly voice filled the silence. “Didn’t mean to embarrass ya, baby. It’s okay. Human nature,” he winked at you with a crooked smile.

You quickly stepped over to him and tried tugging the magazine out of his hands, but he held on tightly. “Joel,” you pleaded as your sweaty fingers slipped off of the paper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided you. “This dude here kinda looks familiar, doesn’t he?” Joel looked at you with a knowing expression as humiliation filled your chest. Yeah, he looks just fucking like you. Leave me alone.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel,” you muttered angrily. You were about to burst into flames, whether from embarrassment or anger you didn’t know. You didn’t care. How dare your body put your shame and embarrassment on display? You were giving Joel exactly the kind of sick satisfaction he absolutely did not deserve.

“Oh, baby. I think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Look at how you’ve dog-eared these pages,” he used his pointer finger to trace the bent triangles at the corners of the pages. “Guy looks just like me, doesn’t he? Is that what you like so much about these pages?” his southern drawl had your stomach doing flips. “I know they’re your favorite, magazine practically opened right up to them.”

You ignored his question. “The pages were like that when I found the magazine,” you tried lying, but it was a futile attempt. This was bullshit. Joel was the one who was caught red handed, and yet you were bearing the brunt of the humiliating situation. Only Joel Miller could spin this situation to work out in his favor.

“Sure, sweetheart,” you reached for the magazine again, but Joel pulled it out of your reach. “You know baby, you didn’t have to fantasize with a dirty old magazine if you wanted to fuck me. All you had to do was ask.”

You said nothing, just glared at him. Joel wore a loathsome smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Wish I knew this is what you were usin’ to get yourself off at night. All those pretty noises, all this time. They were all for me, weren’t they?”

Any words you could think of got caught in your throat, it felt like dry swallowing a pill. You just looked at Joel with pleading eyes, begging him to stop making you feel like a fool. If you weren’t so embarrassed, you’d be yelling at him for rifling through your private belongings and calling him presumptuous asshole for insinuating you fantasized about him. Of course, he was entirely correct in his assumption. You were completely and utterly infatuated with him. Even when you weren’t using his doppelgänger to get yourself off, you were thinking of him all day long.

“Please,” you finally choked out, feeling tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t take any more of this torture. “Just stop.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” he spoke with a soothing tone. Joel placed a hand on your thigh and twiddled his fingers along the fabric of your pajamas. “You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me what I want to hear.” Joel looked at you with his sparkling brown eyes, darkened with lust. “So what do you like about these pages, baby?”

Turning your face towards your lap, you whispered your response to his prodding question. “I like the way he’s fucking her,” If that’s all it’d take to make him stop, might as well spill your guts.

“Yeah, I do too. It’s sexy, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, glancing at the familiar image. Joel was 100% right. Those were certainly your favorite pages. You didn’t even need them anymore, the picture was tattooed on your brain. “I like how the man looks.” you admitted with bravery.

“I bet you do. Because he looks like me, right?”

You nodded your head shyly. You couldn’t believe yourself, giving up and letting Joel win. He’d never let you live this down. But maybe if you butter him up a little he’ll let you off easier. “You’re more handsome, though,”

“Oh, baby. Gonna make me blush,” Joel replied to you with a saccharine smile. He really did seem genuinely flattered by your comment. “This is really what you look at when you’re playing with your pussy?”

“Yeah, kind of,” you say, feeling some confidence fill your chest. “I pretend it’s you fucking me like that.”

“Is that right?”

“Mhm,”

“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. I like knowin’ you think of me like that,” he praises you for finally letting go of your embarrassment. He doesn’t only want to tease you. If this is what you fantasized about, he was gonna make your dreams come true.

Joel takes one of your hands in his own and moves it to your center, pressing your fingers against your core. You gasp at the feeling of your wetness on your pajama pants. “Think you can do somethin’ for me?”

“What?” you murmur.

“I want you to give me a show, baby. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re lookin’ at that magazine,” Apprehension fills your bones once again at his words. “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I just wanna see how pretty you look when you come. And after you do that, I’ll fuck you just like how he’s doin’. What do you say?”

“Just like, touch myself?” you laugh awkwardly at his request. This cannot be happening. Right?

Joel sets the magazine down and helps you to the top of the bed. He leans you against the pillows and kisses your lips for a second, and every time his tongue mingles with your own your anxiety melts away, little by little. This is all so surprising, maybe he does really want to make you feel good.

He kisses you gently and with care, using his lips to encourage you to let go again. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, your neck, and down your body before lifting up your pants and looking at you expectedly, asking permission to remove your clothing. You nod and he helps you out of your pajamas. It’s all so sudden and you feel exposed, all naked and laid out for Joel.

“You’re beautiful,” Joel says earnestly as he takes one of your wrists and guides your hand to your needy pussy, encouraging you to show him what you look like when you’re whimpering at the thought of him in the middle of the night. You don’t touch yourself yet, though. You cover your center with your hand, slightly embarrassed by the thick tuft of hair surrounding your vulva.

“I haven’t shaved in forever,” you say sheepishly. It’s kind of silly, worrying about body hair at the end of the world. But you can’t help it.

“That’s alright, sweetheart” Joel says as he reaches for the magazine and flips to one of the first pages he saw, a woman spread eagle with her full bush on display. She’s smiling and radiates confidence. “See? It’s a beautiful thing. It’s how they’re meant to be.”

You’re skeptical. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course I do. I love your pussy, it’s beautiful just how it is,” Joel grips your thighs and parts your legs, and your fingers gently drop to touch your dripping center. Joel reaches forward and places his hand over yours, helping you circle your clit with your middle finger. It’s slow at first and you squeeze your eyes shut, still feeling slightly awkward. Masturbating for someone else to watch is completely different from sex. You feel vulnerable, like you’re being studied under a microscope. You don’t feel that way for long, though.

Joel continues to help you circle your clit until he senses you becoming more confident, then removes his hand to watch you do your thing. Your fingers swirl around your hole as you gather your slick, then travel up again to rub your clit in those same circles he helped you create. You let out little gasps and whimpers, and it’s music to Joel’s ears. Finally, he has an image to match with the moans and other noises he hears from your room.

Usually you can get yourself off fairly quickly but with Joel in front of you, it takes a little longer. You open your eyes and peek at him. His dark and hungry eyes are focused on your center, but they flick up to your own. He smirks devilishly at you for a half second then goes back to watching your actions, almost obsessively. He is obsessed.

The sight of him pushes you closer to the edge, and he watches your pussy twitch as you finger your clit even faster. His expression changes then. He’s no longer looking at you with adoration and lust. Joel looks angry and jealous, with a furrowed brow and a scowling frown. You tilt your head slightly in confusion but before you can think Joel lunges forward and rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning it next to your torso.

“Let me taste you?” he whispers. You nod hurriedly in response. Lick me, touch me, do anything.

He presses a kiss to your clit and you gasp in surprise. “This is my pussy now,” he growls. Now that he knows what you look like touching yourself for him, he can’t just sit there and watch you anymore. Joel’s desperate, he needs to make you come. “From now on, you’re only gonna come when I say so. Do you understand?”

You mumble incoherently and Joel swats your thigh, not satisfied with your answer. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice dark and serious.

“Yes, Joel,”

“Good girl. You just relax now, let me take care of you,” he instructs you. Your head falls to the pillow, and you let out a soft exhale as Joel wraps his strong arms around your thighs and pulls your pussy to his face. Joel inhales your scent deeply, enjoying your aroma.

He licks a long stripe from your slick hole all the way to your clit, flattening his tongue against you. He licks every inch of you, memorizing your folds with his deft tongue. When he’s satisfied with the way he’s worked you up, he focuses on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before inserting two fingers inside of you.

“Joel,” you gasp out, hands reaching for his salt and pepper curls. Your thighs clamp around his head and he removes his hands from your body to spread them out again.

“You stay open for me now,” he commands. He plunges his fingers back inside you and curls them upward, hitting that spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes see stars. You moan loudly when Joel’s lips attach to your clit once more, this time gently sucking on the sensitive bud. He’s drunk on your taste, completely addicted to your flavor. His tongue continues dancing on your center and you pull him close to you, rutting your hips into his face. Every once in awhile you swipe his nose and he uses the opportunity to dip and twirl his tongue inside of you.

This is the best way to eat pussy, Joel’s learned. Find out what makes her tick and keep doing that, let her grind on his lips and nose. Right now, your wish is his command.

You reach down and grab his not working arm to bring it towards your breasts. Joel picks up what you’re putting down immediately and trails his hand over your breasts, pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. That’s all it takes to have you coming in his mouth.

You cry out his name as you buck your hips into him, fighting the urge to push him away when the feeling becomes too intense.

Joel doesn’t allow you to catch your breath. He flips you on your tummy and drags you down the bed, his fingernails pressing into your skin. “You did so good for me, baby. You gonna let me fuck you now? Just like you pretend, right?” He pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his pajama pants behind you.

“Yes, Joel, please,” you whine.

“I like hearin’ that. Keep beggin’ for me,” Joel demands as nudges your thighs apart with his knee. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, painting his precum on your skin. He pushes the tip inside, not yet dipping all the way inside you.

“I need you,” you sob with desperation.

“Need me to what?” He knows what you need, but Joel’s gonna make you spell it out to him.

You let out a groan of frustration and back your ass into his hips. Joel chuckles at your annoyance. “Come on now. Tell me what I want to hear,” he repeats his words from earlier. “Put that pretty mouth to use.”

“I need you to fuck me,”

“There you go. Was that so hard?”

Joel wraps his hands around your hips, his fingers digging into your lower stomach and his thumbs pressed firmly into your lower back and slams his hips into you. His fingernails leave dents in your skin.

You yelp at the sudden contact, not expecting him to go so hard and fast. His thick cock stretches you out and you can feel the tip hitting you deep inside.

“Always knew this pussy would feel good,” he mumbled behind you, beginning his firm pace.

You arch your back into him, using your body to tell him what you need. You love the way he feels, so strong and holding you so tight. It really is a fantasy come to life. “Don’t stop, please,” you cry for him.

“Mmmm,” he hums. “You love this cock, don’t you?”

“Yes, Joel,”

“That’s right. It’s all for you, baby,” he continues pounding into you.

Joel stops for a second and flips you over on your back. He apologizes, “Sorry, sweetheart. I know I said I’d fuck you like them in the magazine but fuck, I gotta see you,” he says. “Can’t let you hide those tits from me anymore.”

Joel pulls your legs up and places them over his shoulders, opening you up even deeper for him. He lets out a moan at the change in position.

He admires the way you look, all of it just for him. Your half lidded eyes, mouth open and spilling out moans and obscenities with every snap of his hips. You’re completely fucked out.

You reach down to thumb your clit and he smacks your hand away. “What’d I say earlier? You come when I say. I didn’t say, did I?” he scolded you.

“N-no,” you stutter out.

Joel takes your wrists into his hand and pins them above your head. “Can’t trust you, sweetheart. Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me,” He snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you with what could be and never giving you more.

The wet squelching noises of your pussy and the slapping sound of skin hitting skin have your head spinning. Joel fucks you at a merciless pace, frenzied and desperate. He’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows it’s agonizing, almost painful the way you’re aching for release. But he’s determined to teach you a lesson.

“Please,” you choke out. “Just make me come,”

“I don’t know that you deserve it, baby, Touchin’ yourself to that picture of my lookalike? That’s awful selfish of you,” he chided you. “Depriving me of this?”

“Joel,” you whined. You’d do whatever it took to get some release.

“Tell me how long you were needing me,” Joel panted. “Weeks? Months?”

“I don’t know. Forever,” you admitted. “I need to come now, please.”

“Forever? I wish you said somethin’ earlier, baby. You wouldn’t be in this mess,”

You didn’t know how much more you could take. Tears of frustration were streaming down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides. You were right there, you just needed permission to let go.

Joel was right there with you, also struggling to hold on. He wanted nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, but he’d never seen something so erotic and sexy. Your body, tangled in his own, your twitching thighs and furrowed brow. And he was responsible for all of it, responsible for turning into this wreck.

“You’re takin’ me so good, sweet girl. Beggin’ and askin’ me so nice,” he whispered. “You do one last thing for me, and I’ll let you come.”

“Anything,” you gasp. Now his wish is your command.

“You focus right here. Look at me, and don’t close your eyes. Keep makin’ those pretty noises for me, just like you always do,” You’re not even consciously trying to follow his orders, you just do. You can’t break your stare from his dark and hungry gaze, his lip curled in a nefarious smirk. Breathy moans and high pitched squeals escape your mouth.

“Always knew you’d be my good girl. Alright now. Let go for me,”

That’s all you needed to reach your peak. The warm, coiling feeling in the pit of your stomach erupts, shooting electricity through your veins. Your vision goes blurry and you hear staticky ringing as you cry out for Joel. It’s all you can feel as wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body.

Joel’s thrusts are sloppy now as he chases his own orgasm. Your fluttering walls and the way you whisper his name like a prayer are all he needed to reach his peak. His hips are stuttering and his muscles jerk and tremble as he pulses inside you, painting your insides with his seed. Joel hovers above you, placing wet kisses and tonguing your salty skin. He’s addicted to the way you taste.

It only hits you now how surreal this entire evening is. Joel’s above you, collecting himself and catching his breath and you’re still pinned beneath him. Of course, you imagined fucking him many times prior to this but it was never this way. You couldn’t complain, though.

Joel interrupts your thoughts with a kiss, sweet and gentle and loving. A stark contrast to the way he fucked your body just moments before. “So apple pudgy pies, right?”

You giggle. Joel is such a typical man, wanting a snack right after sex. At least he’s not already passed out on top of you, the way other men often do. “Yes Joel, just like you asked for,”

Joel backs away from you then with a cute little fist pump, as if he’s winning a prize. “Fuck yeah,” he whispers, walking to the bathroom completely nude. He’s got such a nice and plump ass, you notice.

He comes back and wipes you off with affectionate care, being extra conscious not to irritate your sensitive skin after the rigorous fucking. He helps you into your pajamas then and kisses you on the top of the head. “I’m gonna get the fire goin’, meet me out there?”

“Sure, Joel,” you respond with a smile. “I have to finish up with the apples first, though.”

“Take your time. I’ll be out there,”

You sit up and kiss Joel one last time, the way his lips slide against yours gives you butterflies. It’s a little late to feel that way after what you just did. You go to the bathroom then go downstairs and finish prepping the apples, stirring them over the stove. Once they’re finished, you prepare the sandwiches and make your way outside to sit next to Joel.

The warm glow of the fire illuminates his skin and he looks so handsome, his features look so defined by the light and shadows. He helps you put the sandwiches in the pie irons and then places them on the grill above the fire, careful to make sure they’re not getting too much heat too quickly.

The fire begins to shrink, flames not reaching quite as high as the sandwiches need. You turn your head around you looking for some more firewood, but the sound of ripping paper interrupts your search.

It’s Joel, tearing out pages of a magazine. Your magazine, from before. You look at him with confusion.

“I told you, sweetheart. You won’t be needin’ this anymore. You come to me,” he explains with a low voice, flipping the cast iron pans. “I took good care of you, right?”

You smile shyly. “You did,”

“And I intend to keep takin’ care of your needs,” he promises.

You nod wordlessly, still smiling. A few more moments pass before Joel removes the irons from the fire and removes your pies to cool off, then slices them in half. They’re golden brown and the spicy, sweet, warm smell is sinfully delicious. The gooey apples spill from the bread slightly. Your tummy grumbles at the sight.

The dessert has cooled enough, you decide. Taking a half of one of the sandwiches in your hand, you bring it to your mouth and take a small bite, the cooked apples are like lava in your mouth. You hiss at the burn on your tongue and lips.

Joel looks at you with disapproving concern. “Tsk,” he mumbles with displeasure. “You’re terribly impatient, aren’t you?” his tone from the bedroom is back. Reaching forward to take your chin between your fingers, he swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting some of the apple filling. Your eyes widen, you’re startled by his touch.

“I’ll fix you, though. Teach you some self control,” he sucks his digit into his mouth and pulls it out with a pop, humming at the sweet flavor. “Lord knows you need it.”

All you can think about is sucking his cock the same way he sucked his thumb. You wonder how the soft skin of his dick would feel on your tongue. How he would taste, how he’d look as you take him deep down your throat.

God, how you need it.

tag list: @swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @kyloispunk

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller #the last of us hbo #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #strang3lov3

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clownd1ck · 2 months

Text

trouble, j. miller | chapter two

mob!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter summary: your first shift at apocalypse lives up to the standards that you hoped for, and you work your charm on everyone there. money and validation never hurt anyone, and you definitely didn’t mind it.

chapter warnings: alcohol consumption, food consumption, uh oh curse words, joel miller being a “power to the people, stick it to the man” man (we believe in that over on this blog), reader & dancers shake ass bc they can, google translated spanish 😍, no beta again, AND DID SOMEONE SAY JAVIER PEÑA!?

word count: 2274

also can u guys start asking me to be on this taglist by either bribing me or threatening me idk i think i’d just like to see “add me to your taglist or i’m gonna be under your bed at 9:03pm”

(series masterlist)

when you step outside of the changing room, you head over to the snack drawers. you may have eaten before you arrived, but turning down free food was a sin in your eyes. you settle on a pack of hot cheetos and some trolli candy before sitting in a high chair and allowing lucy to do your makeup.

lucy was a lovely woman. she told you the basics about her, how she’s trying to save money so she can buy her first apartment, the name of her cat, etc. and, jesus christ, lucy was good at make up. her shade match was amazing, the blush and contour sculpted your face well. the eye make up was a smoked out black wing, with purple eye glitter on your eyelids. your lips were glossy, pouty, and fucking sexy, if you did say so yourself.

“lucy, i want you to know that if you ever decide to dump your boyfriend, i will be right here waiting for you.” you take another look at yourself in the mirror. “i look so hot i want to fuck myself.”

lucy giggles, and the two of you join adele, who runs you through everything you need to know. when she gets to the hourly pay and tips, your mouth drops in shock. “damn, didn’t realise joel was such a socialist.”

adele and lucy laugh. “baby, he pays everyone here good.”

lucy nods. “dancers get their money from customers and an hourly pay too. he treats us all good, it’s why we all like working here so much.”

you get to know some of the women whilst you’re there. you dance with them, they teach you some moves that are part of their routines, you sing with them. in all honesty, a lot of time hadn’t passed and you felt like you would defend these women with your life.

a knock sounds on the door, and adele opens it to find joel standing there. he beckons you with his hand outstretched. you give your goodbyes to the girls, dramatic as ever but you would miss this moment between you all, even if they did say you could drop by this room any time you want like the other female waiting staff did.

you join joel’s side, his hand going onto your lower back again as he guides you to another room.

“kitchen. head chef is joey,” he points to an elder man with black hair and a slight stubble. he seems mean…you’ll fix that. “that’s quinn,” he points to a woman with blonde hair, “and that’s tim.” you look at tim. tim looks stoned. you think about joining tim to get high on your next shift.

“hi everyone!” you wave at them giddily.

“some guests like food whilst they’re here, ‘s why we have the kitchen. ask for something for yourself and they’ll whip it up for ya’ too.” joel checks his watch, and you don’t know much about watches, but it looks expensive and you unconsciously gulp. he’s rich, damn.

“i’ll take ya’ back up to my office so we can go over some stuff before we open.”

when you get to his office, joel offers for you to take a seat across from his. his chair, however, spins, and you’re much more fascinated by that instead of the boring sofa. you take a seat on the rotating chair and begin to spin on it. joel sighs, shaking his head like he was surprised by your behaviour thus far.

“need to go over the shifts you can do. now, i don’t want ya’ overworkin’ yourself or being too tired for your damn lectures. so tell me what shifts you can do for now, and we can go over the rest later.”

you stop your spinning and look up at him. “i can do weekend shifts at any time. um…i have a nine am lecture on tuesday and thursday. wednesdays i don’t have a lecture until three, and mondays and friday i can work after five.”

“alright, give me your number so i can arrange your shifts. you get paid in cash every week and you’ll collect it from my office at the end of the night.”

you smirk, lifting your index finger up to your lips and biting down on the tip. “my number? joel miller, you flirt! take me to dinner first, please.”

he says your name sternly, a warning. “give me your damn number and get outta here. damn trouble, you are.”

you giggle, writing down your number on a piece of paper and giving it to him, and taking an ipad that carries the menu on it, sauntering out of his office and heading back to the dancer’s room.

——

at nine pm, the club doors open and you have your first group sat in one of the v.i.p. booths. a woman orders a sex on the beach, and the other orders a martini. you take the order down to the bar to gather the drinks and meet the bartender.

he introduced himself as javier, shaking your hand and kissing it gently, making you giggle. you knew you were going to get along with him very well.

as you wait for the drinks, one of the dancers comes over and talks to you. chelsea, her name is. a real blonde bombshell who you think would’ve been amazing in the barbie movie. she’s got a bubbly personality and a cute laugh. she tells you that she attends the same college as you, studying chemistry and physics.

you’re cut off when javier places your drinks on a tray and passes it to you. you give a little wave to chelsea as she is called to a booth to entertain the men.

“don’t be a stranger, mi amor.” javier calls out to you, and you giggle.

“and miss out on you? never!” you shout over your shoulder.

as you walk through the v.i.p. floor, you spot some of the girls and give your greetings to them, winking and grinning as they walk by. you make it back to the table and place the drinks down in front of the two women, and you gasp at them both.

“i just noticed your make up, holy shit! you girls are stunning.” your customer service skills deserves an award, and you’re forever thankful that you’re a massive extrovert and can get away with half the shit that comes out of your mouth.

the girls give their thanks to you, complimenting you back and you shrug them off. you were getting tipped tonight whether they liked it or not. you were hellbent on winning everyone over.

it’s when you’re putting in an eighth round of drinks that you feel a hand on your lower back yet again. you turn your head to see joel, looking down at you.

“need you in booth five.”

“alright, just gotta get these drinks from javi and some orders from the kitchen and i’ll be with you.” you smile at him, and joel walks away back to the booth.

you take your drinks from javi, and he doesn’t forget to give you some pet names in spanish you’ll be sure to google later, and you head back to one of the private rooms. you see a woman by the name of destiny dancing on a small stage with a pole as you give the men their drinks. she winks at you and you return it.

you place the drinks down in front of the men, taking your tray as you lean down and whisper to the closest one to you. “i’ll be back with your food, sir.”

and you return within five minutes, having won over the entire kitchen staff with your undeniable charm. you arrive with two large plates of nachos that the three men share between themselves. one of them slips you a hundred dollar bill, and you blow a kiss his way as you leave the private room.

men were too easy sometimes.

you enter the soundproof glass door of booth five, stepping in and pulling out your tablet. “any drinks i can get for you guys?”

a bald headed man orders a jack and coke, one with a skin fade orders a budweiser and you had to do a subtle double take on him because men in their thirties have skin fades? huh, you learn something new everyday. you look at joel and he shakes his head. “i’m alright, darlin’.”

you smile at him, placing the orders through on the tablet. “i’ll be back soon. let me know if you need anything else.”

as you walk up to the bar, you smile at javi. “oh, my beautiful husband. how i’ve missed you.”

javi looks at you and smirks. “ah, mi pequeña esposa, you’re back. what drinks do you need?” {my little wife}

“jack and coke and a budweiser.” you respond, resting your arms flat on the bartop and placing your head on it as you watch jack make the drinks, your tablet sat right next to you. “javi, what’s the weirdest drink you’ve had someone order?”

“bloody mary with passion fruit liquor.” he grimaces, as do you. what kind of sick fucks were drinking bloody mary’s anyway? and you can make a bloody mary worse? ew.

“i wanna see a drink named after me on this menu one day.” you take the drinks from him as he chuckles.

walking back to the booth, you balance the tray on one hand whilst the other opens the glass door. you place the drinks down in front of the two men, giving them sultry looks as you do.

you were going home with benjamin franklin tonight. you were determined.

as you stand back up and move closer to joel’s seat, you could feel his eyes on you, and when you looked at him, he seemed to be hiding back a smirk, picking up on your games. and it works, as both men slip you a few hundred dollar bills that you tuck under the strap of your bra to stash away later.

“anything else i can get for you gentleman tonight?” when they respond with a ‘no’, you feel a light tap on your thigh. brown eyes meeting yours, he gestures for you to come closer, and you bend down so his mouth is next to your ear.

“little shit.” he whispers, and you chuckle, standing back up to your full height and leaving the booth.

the only time you return to joel’s booth is to take away cups and refill drinks. you don’t hear much of the conversation that happens because, quite frankly, you don’t care. the bald guy and the one with the skin fade keep slipping you bills and that’s enough to buy your silence and curiosity.

you return to some of the private rooms, getting drinks for guests and dancers, but during the final moments of your shift, you’re sat at the bar talking to javier. you learn that he’s been friends with joel since high school. they’re practically brothers, and although they weren’t related, they do look alike…

“shithead.” joel’s voice calls out, and you can only assume he’s referring to you due to the choice in nickname.

“that better be meant as an endearment or i will be snitching to my pops.” you say as you walk over, blowing javi a kiss as a means of goodbye. “he may be in his sixties but he can still put a crow bar to use.”

joel rolls his eyes and guides you back to the dancer’s room. you open the door halfway before he decides to speak: “wait around here for a bit and i’ll come get you. i’ll be taking you home so make sure you’ve got everything.”

you pout playfully. “well, aren’t you just a sweetheart.” and your words cause him to roll his eyes again.

“get in there, ya’ little shit.” and he gently pushes you in.

for the next two hours, you and the girls spend your time dancing to some 2000’s r&b. you and chelsea end up whining on each other, and you all collapse by the time ‘smack that’ has finished, giggling away among yourselves as adele is highly entertained by your energy.

a knock at the door sounds, and you can tell it’s joel. you grab the clothes you wore before your shift started, and when you open it, joel is stood there carrying your bag.

“ya’ got everything?”

“you sound like a divorced dad who has joint custody over his daughter. yes, i have everything.” joel sighs at your comment, rubbing the space between his eyebrows which causes you to giggle.

“bye guys!” you wave goodbye to everyone as you and joel leave the building. he unlocks his black porsche and you hop in the front, shivering slightly at how cold it was.

joel notices this, turning on the heated seats as he drives you home to your grandparents. when you’re outside your house, joel stops you from getting out. “i’ll text you your shifts. my number is strictly for work.”

“got it, text you whenever i want. bye joel!” you shout, running out of the car and unlocking your front door, heading straight to your bedroom so you can take off your make up and finally be comfortable.

you fail to notice how joel’s car doesn’t drive away until he sees you’ve entered the house, and that you safely got to your room when your bedroom light turns on. you don’t see how he smiled at your little comment, shaking his head as he drives away.

oh, you were trouble, alright.

____

a/n: reader tormenting joel and him just tolerating it is my ideal relationship

taglist (if you want to be added, pls let me know!! & if your name is in bold, i couldn’t find your account :()

@dugiioh @amyispxnk @skysmiller @alyhull @noisynightmarepoetry @elliaze @dendulinka6 @zliteraturehoe @atyourmerci @al33naaa @mermaidgirl30 @lulawantmula @nana90azevedo @endlessthxxghts @getitoutofmymind @you-taste-so-sweet @blazeflays @iveseenstrangerthings50 @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @aquanatalie @katw474 @ludwigxii-blog @eloquentdreamer @kyloispunk @txmentor @din-jarring @daddysmilf0123 @sofiparallel @dunkinzjm @runningmom94 @ashhlsstuff @moel-jiller @isimpforfictionalmen @drewharrisonwriter @stormseyer @rodriguez31 @elliesswearjar @vvitchesh3x @joeldjarin @untamedheart81 @ellishamae25 @pedropascalfan221 @mellymbee @pedritosgfreal @yassspose @casa-boiardi

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller series #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel x reader #mob!joel #mob boss!joel

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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

Text

Javier Peña: Call Me Javi

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: “His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.”

Warnings: SMUTTT, slightly insecure reader, mentions of smoking, Javier is cocky (what’s new), oral female receiving, idiots in love.

1.4k

A/N: I needed some Javi in my life. I hope you enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, reblog, or ask, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(gif credit to owner I owe you big time this gif absolutely ends me)

The rubber from his tires came into your apartment’s parking lot so hot they ignited not one spark, but a dozen, lighting up the dark Colombian sky. You could feel your legs beginning to quiver and shake, knowing who was behind that wheel.

“Right now?” he had whispered over the phone.

“Right now, Javier” you whispered back, “now or never.”

That wasn’t even ten minutes ago.

Javier Peña had been your acquaintance for two years, your coworker for one, and your friend for six months. The process had been slow, due to both of your unique issues and the fact that you were after the best drug lord that had ever lived, but you had gotten there eventually. He understood your humor--even the pieces of it dripping in a dark ink--and that was where your own spark began. The teasing began, then the bickering, then the long smokes outside after a day with more casualties than fingers on your hands where neither of you had to say anything.

He had always been good at that, saying everything yet nothing at all. It was exactly what you needed in those moment, the silence of the unsaid pact between you: keep each other sane. Keep each other distracted.

There was only one more step you had to take, one more figurative box to check to let Javier truly distract you from the bucket of shit day you had. You could see it in his eyes during those long smoking nights, the proposal for it, but he always read your eyes right back: Not yet.

It didn’t take very long or “not yet” to turn into “right now.”

Your heart crawled further and further up your throat when you heard his boots hit your carpeted floor, moving just fast enough to be subtle but fast enough for you to smirk, and you cracked your door open a sliver.

He looked how he always looked, handsome with a drizzle of rugged. Your kryptonite.

You took a deep breath before opening the door, reminding yourself that this is just Javier. The Javier who drinks black coffee, only black coffee, blushes at compliments, has a soft spot for cats, adores reality tv, and would never, ever hurt you.

You opened the door all the way when he made his way in front of it. His eyes were blown wide, the proposal from all those weeks ago present in his eyes, as well as...apprehension. Like he genuinely thought this would never happen, you would never say yes, and if he traced one valley of your skin, he would wake up.

You smiled, enjoying this look on him, and nodded.

He smiled too, and kissed you dizzy.

He walked you back into the apartment, gently, and helped you close the door. His tongue teased yours as he locked it behind his back, and you both pulled away to smile. It weakened more than just your limbs.

His hands found their way to your waist as he walked you further and further backward, obviously having your apartment memorized like the back of his hand, and lifted you against the wall. You let a whine escape into his mouth, his facial hair burning so good against you as you did, and he pulled away with a groan that sounded like he was near pain.

“Tell me Y/N,” he whispered, breathing as hard as he did after raids, “tell me if I need to stop, because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Your brows creased together in slight confusion, but you whispered, “I will.”

He kissed you again, before sinking to his knees.

Suddenly, you realized everything he meant, all of it, and an exhale of fear escaped from you before you could stop it.

His honey-dipped vanilla eyes met your own instantly, mouth formed into an o, and his hands removed themselves from your jeans.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, bringing his hands back to your thighs. “I--I’ve never had that before, that’s all. Just scared me.”

You had seen Javier angry before, but this wasn’t that. You’d seen him sad before, sad for you even, but this look wasn’t that either. It was...disappointment. That was it. Disappointment. Disappointment and resentment.

“You haven’t?” he whispered, massaging your thighs.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve asked for it, but--”

“And so you will have it,” he said, and practically ripped your jeans in two. Your underwear came down with it, and you were suddenly bare. The A/C hit you, igniting chills down your freshly-shaved legs, as well as the sweat from your kiss freezing its heat against your skin, and you were tempted to cover yourself completely.

But Javier was looking at you in a way you had never seen before.

He was kneeling there, examining your body like an artist to his sculpture, as if he...as if he might...

You wouldn’t go there. Not yet.

“Y/N,” he groaned against the skin of your shin, kissing all the way up to your pulsing core, “I think I’m dreaming.”

And then he dove in.

You had experienced pleasure before--quick fucks, your own hand, maybe even making love--but one lick of Javier’s tongue, one scrape of his moustache against your soft skin, one grip of his hands against your ass, and sparks brighter than the ones from his tire clogged your vision.

You were in heaven, or maybe hell, whichever one had an eternity of this.

“Javi,” you whimpered as he mapped you out like the expert he was. Tunnels of fire shot up your thighs to your lower back causing it to arch, only pressing his mouth against you harder. Your right hand gripped his hair while your left gripped his leather jacket, your mouth could not keep itself shut, and tears burned your eyes as he licked and sucked and kissed right there--

“Javi, don’t you--don’t you dare stop.”

He pulled away from the obscene noises his mouth was making against you and said, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He ate you out for what had to have been hours and seconds. It felt endless yet not enough. Never enough. He finally worked his fingers up to you, entering you like butter, and another pathetic whine came from what had to have been you. You couldn’t even recognize yourself.

“Javi please--” you wheezed, your fire burning you alive, “I’m right there.”

“I feel it baby, I feel you,” he whispered against you, licking his lips. “Just a bit longer.”

He ate and ate and ate. You were there, then you weren’t, you were screaming, then silent, on the brink of release, then almost numb. He was etching his sculpture effortlessly, hitting you exactly where he wanted you to curve.

You never wanted anything else that wasn’t him, that wasn’t this, him on the floor, your spine against the wall, his face between your legs.

Finally, your fire caught enough for you to grip his hair the way you had discovered he liked, and he kept going. You were there, right on the edge, your fire coiling inside you--

“Come on hermosa, come on,” he whispered against you, mouth dripping with you, “let me feel it, give it to me.”

And you did, so good it hurt.

Your back curved against the wall and sweat dripped down your shirt as he wiped you clean, licking from your chins up to your clit, fully wiping you down. With your heartbeat finally slowing you could hear more of the noises he was making.

He was nearly as pathetic as you.

Finally, you pulled his face up from between your legs and pressed his forehead to yours. His breath was a mix of nicotine and you, and his moustache was nearly damp. His cheeks were reddened as well as his neck, and his eyes...

...you had never seen them more black.

You felt your way around his body, the two of you once again falling into the rhythm of saying everything and nothing, and your fingers traced their way to his bulge completely soaked.

He didn’t—

You looked up at him, shock surely present on your face, and he immediately kissed you harder than he had all night. His mouth was wet and tired, but still giving you everything you wanted. Ever the hard worker.

He pulled way to kiss your hairline and whispered, “Call me Javi from now on. I like it.”

And with that, he was backing out of your apartment, away from you, a bead of you still dripping down his chin as he closed the door.

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wardenparker · 10 months

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If You Were Mine, pt 1

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: Mature. But this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.8k Warnings: Mentions of sex work, smoking, food/alcohol, mentions of past Steve x reader, angst, yearning, the love in requited but they’re both idiots, there’s only one bed, Chucho is the best, this fic has a cockblocking dog and I’m ecstatic about it. Summary: When you and Javi are both suspended and deported from Colombia pending investigation, the truth about what got you into trouble and the onus of trying to decide what comes next hangs over you like a black cloud. Out of guilt - and maybe something else - Javi invites you to stay at the ranch with him while you wait for your hearings. And that’s when things start to get more complicated. Notes: Part one of two! I told Keri that I wanted to write a little wedding date one shot and it got wildly out of hand. And I’m so glad it did, because I love these two idiots.

“So, uh, call me when you land.” Steve Murphy looks decided unhappy, maybe a little nervous as he looks between you and Javi. It’s all out in the open now, the secret spilled, but he’s still not sure how his other partner feels about the revelation that had been the nail in the coffin for sending you back to the States. “Gonna miss you both.”

“I’ll miss you, too.” What had passed between you and Steve didn’t damage your friendship with him or change your working relationship in any way, although it had threatened to. Now, though? Now that everyone knows? You had no work at all. “I’ll let you know where I end up. Don’t know how long it will take me to get back on my feet.”

Guilt is a heavy thing, weighing around Javi’s neck as he shuffles and shifts his bag on his shoulder. You’ve been suspended indefinitely and he doesn’t know what that means for you. Although there’s a long flight back to Miami to talk about it.

The time is ticking by interminably slowly, but you swallow and give Steve a tight, brief hug. “We should go.” You’re on the same flight, so there’s no escaping having to talk to Javier, but you’re not looking forward to it. The whole thing has been a whirlwind.

Javi watches you hug Steve, wondering if there was anything there beyond what had been said. A drunken, sad night where partners decided to fall into bed together. The pang of jealousy is surprising and unwanted.

"Call me when you get back to Texas?" Steve claps Javi on the back and clears his throat, holding back the fact that he's actually pretty fucking emotional about the whole thing. Both of his partners being ejected from the country in one fell swoop isn't a good situation to be in.

“Get the bastard.” Regret laces his words, hating that he had worked so fucking hard and done so much only to be kicked off the team here at the end. He can feel that it’s close, Escobar is backed into a corner.

"Promise." One more pat to his shoulder and Steve is stepping back to shove his hands in his pockets. Colombia is going to be a hell of a lot more lonely without you and Javi here to keep him sane. Or, at least, mutually insane.

The call to board the plane comes over the airport speakers and Javi looks at you. “Looks like that’s us.” He murmurs, hating how defeated you look.

One more round of goodbyes and you’re picking up your purse to hand your ticket to the gate agent. You and Javi have seats right next to each other because the secretary who booked them had thought she was being nice, but the fact that you’ll have hours to talk might not be the best thing in the world. You don’t know yet. There’s a lot Javi doesn’t know about you still – after all, you’d only been in Colombia for a year. Less time even than Steve.

There’s a certain familiarity with storing the bags, getting settled into a seat. You are on the inside seat with Javier sitting on the aisle; but he wonders if you are comfortable with that. “Do you want to swap seats? Or are you good being by the window?”

"I like the window." It's a kind of meditation, but you don't know if he would understand that or not. "Unless..." You glance up at him from your place a few feet away. "Did you want it? I can deal with the aisle."

“No.” He shakes his head and steps back to allow you to move into the seat. “I’ll put your bag up.”

"Thanks." Your oversized tote bag goes to him and you keep only a book for yourself, knowing you won't be able to concentrate on much. The two of you settle into your seats as the other passengers file in and settle down around you. "So you're going back to Texas?" It's what Steve had said, so you figure it must be the case.

“Yeah.” Javi taps his fingers, wishing he could smoke but they had stopped that years ago. “Where are you headed?”

"I'll find a hotel when we get to Miami." There's nothing for you to go home to even if you did go back to your hometown, so you'll have to figure out how to start fresh. Your job experience is intensely specialized, but you'll figure something out.

“You—I’m sure they will call you back to D.C.” he offers quietly. “You’re too good of an agent to let you go. It’ll probably be some bullshit slap on the wrist.”

"Then I guess I'll find a place in DC if they decide not to kick me out on my ass." You shake your head and sit back, shrugging a little when you look over at him. "There's no guarantees in life, Jav. You know that."

“Give it a month.” He predicts with a very guilty conscience. Barely able to look at you. “You don’t want to go home?” He asks. “Visit with your folks?”

"Can't." The fact that he can't even meet your eyes stings more than it should, and you look out the window at the runway instead. "Sister says I'm ungrateful for not dropping everything and coming home when our Mom died, and Dad left when I was a kid. So a heartwarming family reunion isn't exactly in the cards."

“I’m sorry.” He winces slightly and swallows. “That’s– that's shitty. Not the welcome home I guess you imagined.”

"I kinda didn't think I'd be going back at all," you admit with another half-hearted shrug. "At least...if I did it would either be with a job or in a bag, ya know?"

A real possibility in the line of work that you’ve chosen. He musters the courage to finally meet your eyes. “Why did you do it?”

"Which?" The hammer had come down on you for two reasons, but he hadn't known about either of them. "Why did I get drunk and sloppy, or why did I get sentimental?"

“Whatever it was that made them send you home.” He doesn’t believe it’s all because of fucking Steve. There’s something else that he hasn’t been told.

"I'm surprised we got separate meetings, honestly." Sitting back, you tilt your head at him and wish like hell that you could still have a cigarette on an airplane. Or that they would hurry up and start serving alcohol already. "I went to Judy and Don Berna and tried to bargain for your safety," you tell him quietly. "After you told me...about everything. When it was getting bad. And Judy threw me under the bus right along with you." It had been an impulsive move, trying desperately to get Javi a grasp of freedom after getting in bed with Los Pepes, but it had ended up just backfiring spectacularly and getting both of you kicked out of the country instead. Suspended pending investigation, and then they had tacked on the charge of interdepartmental fraternization to boot. Steve got a slap on the wrist. You got a plane ticket.

“Fuck.” Javi squeezes his eyes shut and sighs. Regret souring in his stomach and he desperately wishes he had a whiskey, or something to drink. “You shouldn’t have risked your career for me.” He responds, voice raspy with unspoken emotions. “I’m not worth that.”

"Too late now." He doesn't need to know why you did it. That you had developed feelings for him slowly but surely over the course of the year you had worked together and had been trying to talk yourself out of it unsuccessfully since you know he has no interest in you. "I did what I thought was right. It's not your fault that it bit me in the ass."

The doors to the plane close and Javi leans back in his seat. “Shit.” He hisses, shaking his head. “I'm sorry.”

"It's not your fault, Jav." It isn't. Not really. He didn't ask you to try to help him or involve you in any of the dealings with Los Pepes. In fact, he had actively warned you against it. "I made my decision and now I'm living with the consequences."

“I’m sorry I dragged you into my shit.” He slides his hand over his face and sighs, closing his eyes as the weight of the fallout from his mistakes bleakly shoves themselves into his face again.

"We're both adults, you didn't drag me into anything." Your own stupid sentimentality did that, but he doesn't need to know it. He doesn't need to know the details. "I'll find something new. Get back on my feet. The DEA isn't the end of the line for me."

“Come to Texas with me.” The offer pops out of his mouth, but in reality, it’s a good idea. It's not like there isn’t room at his Pop’s and that way you aren’t spending money you don’t need to until the DEA is done punishing you.

"You don't have to do that." When you look back up at him he looks surprised to even have said it and the small spark of hope that he might have meant it fizzles immediately. "Pity is worse than hatred, ya know."

“It’s not pity.” He immediately argues. “I just hadn’t – it’s a good idea.” He shifts slightly and turns in his seat to face you. “The ranch isn’t luxurious, but it’s comfortable.” For him, it’s home. “Pop has a spare bedroom that is never used. He’d probably be grateful to have more than my sullen ass to talk to.”

It's not that you don't want to say yes. To spend time with him or at least around him. To get to know his family and see where he's from. The problem is that you want to do those things for all the wrong reasons. "I don't know what help I'll be," you warn him, like reminding him that you grew up in a very different way than he did might somehow deter him. "But..." But you could have just a little more time with him before never seeing him again. You deflate a little, knowing that your only other option is throwing money at a hotel for a while. It's not like you can just knock on Connie Murphy's door when you get to Miami – she certainly won't want to see you. "If you don't think your father would mind too much? I'll stay out of both your hair."

“Nah, he won’t mind at all.” Javi promises. He had too many cousins or friends stay over when he was younger for the elder Peña to care about his house being used as a way station. “I’ll give him a ring when we land in Miami.” He promises. “Just so you know it’s okay.”

"Okay." Suddenly you wish you had a drink even more. More time spent with your partner – former partner? – before you let go of him altogether might be more than you bargained for. But still, you don't think you could pass up the chance. Even just a few more days. "As long as it's okay with your dad."

He relaxes slightly, shooting you a small, rare grin. “Okay.” He nods, feeling better about the entire situation. He wouldn’t want to leave you in Miami by yourself even if he knows you are more than capable. Hell, you’re a better agent than him and Steve, but he would still feel uneasy about it.

******

The flights are long, and you end up buying a new book in Miami just to have something to read on the way to Texas. Being back stateside isn't the triumphant return that Javier wanted it to be and his father didn't seem fazed at all by the idea of him bringing someone back to the ranch so you had nodded gratefully. By the time you land at Laredo International Airport you feel about ready to drop but Javi seems as near to relieved as you've seen him in months.

“I need a fucking cigarette.” The non-smoking rule in the airport had killed him, the idea that you couldn’t light up at the restaurants in the States had been irritating and he anxiously waits for his checked bag so he can hopefully get one before his dad shows up.

"You and me both." At least you'd been able to drink on the flights. A steady stream of scotch had kept both of you from getting too irritable.

He spots your bag first, a hideous maroon color that he had teased you about, but it’s handy for spotting it as the conveyor belt rolls around. Stepping forward, he grabs it and turns back to you. “That all you checked?”

"Yeah." You shoulder the bag before he can tease you about the color again and shrug. "Murphy said he'd ship me the rest of my shit if they decide to fire me." Technically you're just under investigation, but anything could happen. "It's boxed up at his place for now."

Javi nods, frowning slightly as he waits for his own bag. Wondering what prompted you to sleep with Steve. Not that it was his business, but you never seemed like you were interested.

"Here." His nondescript black bag swings around the carousel and you nab it for him, not mentioning that the reason you have such an awful colored bag is so you can actually recognize it. His stupid black bag had probably passed by you four times before you had even recognized it. "We, uh...we're waiting for your father to pick us up?" Surely that's enough time for a cigarette, isn't it?

“Yeah.” Javi guides you towards the revolving door and sighs as soon as the warm night air hits him. The airport was artificially freezing. “He should be here soon.”

"Is it bad that the heat is actually comforting?" Colombia might have varying climates, but you had gotten used to the damp heat of the jungles and busy sunshine of the city. "The office is always way too fucking cold."

“Why do you think I kept a jacket around?” He huffs with a grin, fishing in his pockets for his pack of cigarettes. When he finds it, he pulls out the lighter and offers you the pack to take one if you want it.

Humming in thanks, you take a cigarette from the pack and easily lean forward so he can light it after he does his own. It's a practiced ritual, something the two of you have done a hundred or a thousand times before, and a calming one. The air is warm here but it's dry, and seeing that it's the end of the day you can tell it's going to start cooling off quickly. "So this is where you grew up, huh? The original hunting grounds, so to speak?"

He blows out the first, satisfying puff of tobacco and nicotine and chuckles. “You could say that.” He hums, looking out to watch as the last plane of the night takes off. Watching the blinking lights lift into the sky. “Got into a lot of shit around here.”

"I bet." It isn't hard to imagine him as a charming trouble-maker of a teen, talking circles around the adults in his life and pitching that signature Peña smile at anyone with a grudge. "A whole line of swooning country girls left behind you when you took off for bigger things." It wouldn't be that different from all the swooning women he had left behind in Colombia. After all, he has no idea that he brought one of them with him.

“One very bitter, jilted fiancée.” Javi confesses. He had told Steve about Lorraine but he hadn’t said anything to you about her. It had seemed wrong for some reason.

"No." You practically choke on an inhale of smoke and whirl around to look at him instead of watching the parking lot. "You were engaged?"

“Yeah.” Javi admits it wasn’t his finest moment, leaving her at the altar but it was better than the alternative. “I was.”

It casts things in a different light, to think of him that way, but you nod and pretend that you don't have a single care about it in the world. When you had thought of him as having no interest in marriage before, that had been a presumption based on what you had seen. Now, it seemed to have slightly more concrete evidence to support it. "She doesn't still live around here, does she?"

“Think so.” He rolls his eyes slightly. “Her husband Randy is some kind of investment banker.” He scoffs, never having much use for them. They are right up there with used car salesmen and pimps.

"Randy?" You snort at the name, letting it conjure images of either an idiot in a garish suit or else that actor whose last name you always forget from National Lampoon. "Sounds like she traded pretty far down. Might be glad to see you in spite of the break up." Imagining him with just about anyone hurts at this point, why not add insult to your own injury by picturing him getting back together with his ex?

“Doubt it.” He eyes you, waiting to see your reaction. “Left her at the altar with about a hundred of our friends and family.”

"Madre de Dios, Javi!" The Spanish curses are far more fun to use and roll off the tongue more often after having spent so much time in Colombia, and when you swerve to look at him with your cigarette hanging out of your mouth you nearly punch him instead of just shoving him in the arm. Your usual playfulness comes out when you're surprised, apparently. Even if that surprise is tempered with a bad situation. "That woman is gonna murder you if she ever sees you again!"

He shrugs, having accepted that as his fate a long time ago. “She’s moved on, got two kids with her husband. Better with him than me.”

"God forbid the great Casanova himself, Javier Peña, should ever settle down." You nearly huff when you roll your eyes, but a truck in the distance saves you the trouble. "Looks like your dad is here."

He doesn’t know why that comment makes him frown, but he tosses down his cigarette and grinds it under his heel. Annoyed that your off hand teasing has him defensive. “Can't wait to take a shower.”

"Can't wait to sleep without worrying about getting shot or kidnapped," you gripe before painting a smile onto your face. Is your work important? Of course it is. But they took it away from you and branded you the office slut when that title clearly already belonged to someone else, so you'll take whatever comforts you can get at the moment.

He can agree with that, although he never slept well anyway. There was too much on his mind in a constant stream of worry and regret. The pick up truck rolls to a stop and Javi steps forward to open the door. “Pop.” He greets his dad and then turns towards you for a proper introduction. Telling his father your name and that you are his partner, he looks back at you. “Chucho Peña.” He flashes a small grin. “Just call him Pop.”

“It’s really nice to meet you.” Chucho is jovial and friendly, offering you a hug immediately and getting borderline emotional to see his son after you-can-only-guess how long. He hushes you when you try to thank him, ushering you into the truck instead and promising you that he’s glad to have the company.

It doesn’t take long for bags to be thrown into the bed and for the three of you to be loaded up in the truck. “Thanks for picking us up, pop.” Javi knows he could have rented a car, but he doubts the counter is even open at this time of night and the one taxi service that Laredo has is notorious for not answering the phone after 10pm.

“Mijito, I’m not going to leave a beautiful woman stranded.” The elder Peña aims a wink at you and chuckles as he turns over the truck’s engine. “It’s been far too long since we had a face this lovely at home.”

His brows arch up at the flirtatiousness of his father. For a moment, it’s the perfect example of where Javi learned his smooth moves.

“Don’t look so shocked.” Chucho laughs when his son tilts his head and laughs straight from his belly to see your amusement when you snicker on the bench seat next to him. “Your mamá was much too good for me. I had to get her to stick around somehow.”

“Don’t believe a single second of that surprise on his face,” you tell the older man, still laughing. “The flirting is genetic in Peñas, apparently.” Not that he ever aimed it at you. As his partner you might as well have been completely sexless to Javi - a fact which bothered you far more than you would like to admit.

Chucho chuckles again and looks over at you and his son. He’s surprised that Javi had finally brought someone home. “Then I taught him well.” He teases.

The bench seat of Chucho’s truck keeps you tucked neatly in between the Peña boys for the drive home, and the warm air from outside the truck swirls around each of you while the radio plays ranchera and Javier’s father gives you both a rundown of how things are running on the ranch these days. The ride isn’t long, but it’s enough for Javi to get updates on some family members and such, and to find out that his dad’s got a new pair of dogs that he’s doting on.

“That sounds good.” Javi’s never been opposed to dogs and he knows that Chucho has been lonely the last few years. He hadn’t been able to come home often.

"They tend to get up early," he warns his son, laughing at the idea of his puppies waking Javier up when he knows his only boy is not a morning person at all. "Just so you know."

“Great.” Javi rolls his eyes and sighs. Not even one day to sleep in. “Don’t shoot the dogs when they wake me up, got it.”

“We’ll train them to make your coffee,” you tease, knowing that Javi before caffeine and nicotine is barely Javi at all.

“You’re worse than I am.” Javi reminds you with a grunt. He always treads warily before 9am around you.

“I am not!” The tease does make you laugh, though, and you end up shrugging in between the Peña men. “Maybe a little.”

Chucho grins, admiring that you have no issue with Javi’s sarcastic sense of humor. You’re good for his boy, he can tell.

When you pull up to the house it’s smaller than you expected at first but it’s obvious that the ranch house rambles on. Rather than being tall it is long, a sprawling thing that seems to carry on to room after room instead of room on top of room. It’s welcoming and homey, and the two dogs out front are most definitely the puppies that Chucho had talked about on the way here.

“Home sweet home.” Javi is conflicted, opening the door to the truck and stepping out. He turns towards you and reaches for your handbag so you can climb out.

“And with playmates!” The dogs perk up immediately upon seeing two new people, and rush over to you with tails wagging and tongues lolling from happy mouths. “Hi boys!” Without hesitation you’re on your knees in the dirt giving them all the pets and cuddles they could possibly want.

Raising his brow, Javi’s surprised at your enthusiasm for the dogs. Not like there was much time for animals in Colombia. “She’s going to fit right in.” Chucho hums in approval, getting the bags out of the bed of the truck.

“Shit, let me get those, Pop.” Javi hurries around the truck to take them from his father.

“Leave mine, Jav.” Scattering the dogs’ fur with kisses, you flash both men a smile before reaching to take your suitcase from Javi. “Sorry, I just…I grew up around dogs and I miss them like hell.”

“I’ve got it.” He insists, “The bedroom is going to be the first door on the left.” He tells you, imagining that you would be in the ‘guest bedroom’ rather than the old room Javi had grown up in.

“Second.” Chucho turns halfway to the horse with confusion on his face. “Have you forgotten where your room is?”

“No,” Javi shakes his head, now confused himself. “I thought you would put her in the spare bedroom.”

“Mijo…” The elder Peña furrows his brow in confusion. “Why would I put your girlfriend in a different room? You’re not sixteen anymore.”

Javi’s eyes widen, realizing the mistake his father had made. He thinks you are with Javi. That he’s brought you home to meet. “Pop—”

“Danny is getting married in a couple of weeks.” Chucho remembers suddenly. “I told him that you will be bringing your girl.”

“I don’t think that’s—” Standing up fully, you look between both men and clear your throat awkwardly. Javier’s father has made the jump - the assumption - that partner meant in business and in pleasure, and you’re the only woman in the world he hasn’t tried to fuck. “It’s not…” You should never have come here…

“Don’t worry.” Chucho doesn’t want to embarrass you; but he wants you to know it’s okay. “The boy has been charming girls into his bed since he was sixteen, I know what he gets up to. But he’s never really been one to bring someone home, so you’re special.”

“Less special than you think I am.” You mutter under your breath, looking to Javier for help in clarifying the situation without being rude.

“Pop…” Javi frowns slightly. “I think she’d be more comfortable with her own space. She didn’t, we didn’t live together.”

“The second bedroom is basically a junk closet,” Chucho admits, looking a little sheepish. “I didn’t think you would be needing it.”

Shit. Javi knows you aren’t happy but he can talk about the sleeping arrangements when his father isn’t listening. “Okay.” He agrees, pointing you down the hall. “Last door on the left.”

Standing in that room with him ten minutes later is more awkward than the first time you had to go to a brothel with him in Medellín, finding that he knew the name of every girl there and discovering exactly how jealous that made you. “I’ll sleep on the floor,” you tell him without hesitation.

“Don’t be stupid.” Javi shakes his head. “We can share. Or I’ll sleep on the couch if that makes you uncomfortable.” There is no way he would let you sleep on the floor when you are a guest in his house. Or, technically, his Pop’s house.

“I’m not stupid.” Even if he doesn’t mean it, the offensive comment does make you bristle and you frown. “And I’m not uncomfortable.” Daydreaming is what you’ll be, but you’ll be damned if he finds that out. “Fine. We’ll just let your Pops think we’re sleeping together, if that’s what you would prefer.”

“He already thinks we are sleeping together, muñeca.” He reminds you, tossing his bag down on the bed and rubbing his neck. It’s awkward and he doesn’t want to think about why his father would think he was sleeping with you. “We are adults. It’s a big enough bed to share.” It’s not a king like his bed in Colombia, but he had shared a queen-sized bed with plenty of women before.

“Just tell me you don’t kick or talk in your sleep or anything.” You’ll just stay on one far edge of the mattress and find someplace else to stay ASAP. That’s all there is to it, you tell yourself firmly.

“Not that I know of.” No one has told him about shit like that, but it’s been awhile since he’s slept beside a woman. “I’ll even wear underwear to bed.”

“How noble of you.” You huff and roll your eyes.

“If you don’t care…” he chuckles quietly, wondering if you're annoyed or embarrassed.

“Poke me with that thing in the middle of the night and you’re gonna wake up without it.” Better that he should never know what your real reaction to his cock would be. Let him think you don’t want him like he doesn’t want you.

Javi frowns and looks away. “Don’t worry about that.” He grumbles, never happy with the idea of losing his manhood.

“Fine then.” Even with knowing that he isn’t interested in you, it still stings when he assures you that you are safe from his attention. Why are you the one woman Javier Peña won’t put his dick near and why do you still want him to so badly? It’s like a sick joke from the universe.

He can tell you aren’t happy with the current arrangement and he knows that he will be busting his ass to make sure the spare bedroom gets cleaned out. “It’s late.” He bites his lip. “I’ll shower and you can…settle in.”

“I shower in the morning.” He knows that. You’ve had plenty of long stake outs and hikes through the jungle and fuck only knows what else — shared hotel rooms where Steve always took the pull out couch and gave you the second bed. He knows you shower in the morning. But still, when you open your bag to pull out clean pajamas and your toothbrush, you pause. “Unless that would weird you out? Some people think it’s gross to sleep on clean sheets without showering. And it’s…it’s your bed.”

“Whatever you want to do, muñeca.” Javi murmurs quietly. He tries not to think about you in a shower, focusing on unzipping his own bag to pull out clothes. It’s late, so any unpacking would need to wait until tomorrow.

“Tomorrow, then.” You have a feeling you’re going to need a cold shower after sleeping next to him anyway. “And I’ll write your dad a check for having to call long distance. But I promised Steve I’d check in.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He shakes his head and turns to look at you with clean boxers and his toiletry bag in his hand. “I’ll pay the long distance bill. Phone is in the kitchen.”

“We’ll figure it out later.” You tell him with a shrug, not wanting to think about Javi naked or Javi wet. Or Javi all clean and shiny crawling into bed with you. You’re never going to get any sleep tonight. “Now go so I can put my pajamas on. I’m still exhausted from that kid screaming all the way from Miami to here.”

“Yeah,” Javi winces. “The kid had a set of lungs on them.” He motions towards the bed. “Take whatever side you want.” He offers. “Not picky.”

The awkwardness of changing your clothes in Javier Peña's childhood bedroom is very real, but you stack your things up neatly in one corner and slip under the crisp, clean covers and put your head on one of his pillows without letting yourself wonder too often how many girls were in this bed before you. And for very different reasons.

He doesn't take too long in the shower, even though he's tempted to jerk off. Knowing that it will be awkward if he wakes up with his cock pressed against your ass. It's not like you would want that. You wanted Steve. Once clean, he steps out of the shower and towels off, swiping the deodorant under his arms and slipping on a pair of rarely used boxers to sleep in. It was better than sleeping naked, like he normally does.

Javi returns to you leaning half out of the bed petting one of his father's dogs that had nudged its way into the room while he was showering, and you're giggling like an idiot with all awkwardness forgotten at the way the sweet cattle dog is giddy to be getting so much attention.

Javi shakes his head, tossing his dirty clothes into the basket that is near the closet door and he does double back to open the door to the hallway so the pup can leave again. "Why do I feel like the dog's gonna end up in the bed?" He asks.

"He's a good boy," you insist with the most dedicated talking to a puppy voice you can possibly manage.

He rolls his eyes, but it's not in annoyance. Even offering to pet the pup when he comes over to curiously sniff Javi before rejecting his affections to return to the woman who is just basking in his presence. "I'm sure he is."

"You gonna come snuggle up with us, MacGyver?" Javi's father has a habit of naming his dogs after television characters, and these two are no exceptions. MacGyver the cattle dog jumps excitedly before bounding up onto the bed and wiggling right up next to you. "See, Jav? He's a sweet baby."

He sighs, but doesn't protest as the dog wiggles happily and licks you repeatedly as you giggle. You laughing and enjoying doggy kisses is much preferred over the depressed moping that had come with your suspension. He doesn't blame you, his moping just isn't as obvious. "The 'sweet baby' better not hog the bed." He grunts, lifting the covers to get in beside you. Maybe having the dog between the two of you would be a good thing.

"He won't," you promise, even though you have no idea what this dog's sleeping habits are like. You do know that getting cuddles from a dog is the best and happiest you've felt in months, so you're just going to accept it and let the good boy snuggle up to you. "See? He's my snuggle buddy."

“I see that.” It’s impossible to be jealous of a dog and Javi isn’t that ridiculous. His watch and wallet set down on the nightstand, he sits up in the bed and reaches down to pat him a few times and scratch behind his ears.

MacGyver might be the happiest dog in the world right now, and you laugh again before settling down. Tucked down under the blanket with a sweet dog between you and some distance from everything that has happened today, things don't seem quite as helpless as they did this morning. "Thanks for this." As ridiculous as everything is, it's thanks to Javi that you have a place to sleep tonight and a soft place to land. It's not his fault that sleeping in the same bed as him is your own personal hell.

“No problem.” Javi nods and then thinks about something. Hopping out of the bed. “I’m going to get some water.” He tells you. “Want some? So you aren’t searching in the middle of the night?”

"Sure. Thanks." As long as he's offering, you're not going to turn it down. Especially since a tour of the house was waiting for the morning.

“Be right back.” Javi disappears down the dark hallway, sure of his footing and the layout of the house he had been born and raised in.

The light in the kitchen at the end of the hallway is still on, illuminating the large room where Javier's father is babysitting a pot of milk on the stove with Matlock halfway through destroying a chew toy at his feet. "Javi?" He barely turns around. "Need something, mijo?"

“Getting some water.” He knows his Pop has a problem sleeping most nights. It’s gotten worse since his mamá passed, the warm milk helping the older man settle down. “Don’t want her trying to find the kitchen in the dark and tripping.”

"Probably for the best," Chucho chuckles. "Can't find where MacGyver went, she might trip over him in the night."

“Dog’s curled up to her like they are best friends.” He snorts, walking over to the cabinet next to the sink where the chipped glasses from his childhood still sit on the shelves.

"Well, damn." That makes him laugh a little harder, and he ends up leaning back on the counter a little with a contented sigh. "Might be for the best." He can't resist needling his son a little. "Keeps the moaning to a minimum if there's a dog in the way."

“Pop.” Javi groans, feeling like he’s fucking fifteen again, being teased about Mary Louise from his class. Of course his dad had known about the groping and experimenting in his barns after school, but there’s no chance of moaning with you.

"I'm not wagging a finger at you, mijo, I just don't want to be woken up in the middle of the night." He laughs, taking his pan off the stove to pour its contents into a mug. Normally he carries it back to his room to sip while he reads, but it's so nice to have his son in the house again. "She seems nice," Chucho commends. "And she's a knockout, to boot."

Javi grunts, aware of how attractive you are. He moves over to the sink and fills the glasses halfway with cool well water. “She’s a good woman.”

"Hell of a lot sweeter than that Lorraine." Chucho remarks sharply, but he shrugs immediately after. "But that's just a first impression. I'll get to know her well enough soon. Y'all stay as long as you want or need to. It's nice to have life in the house again."

“Thanks Pop.” He means that. Both of you need a place to lay low and rest. Once he gets you into your own bedroom, the uneasiness will pass. “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

"Night, son." The nod Chucho gives Javier as he ambles from the room comes with a pat on the younger man's shoulder, and soon enough Javi's father has disappeared out of sight with Matlock right at his heels.

Javi sighs, carrying the two glasses of water to the bedroom and contemplates going outside for one last smoke. Pop doesn’t condone smoking in the house, a rule set by his late wife and Javi respects it. In the end, it’s the hassle of brushing his teeth again so he doesn’t accidentally breathe cigarette breath into your face if he rolls over during the night, that convinces him not to. “You two look comfortable.” The dog is halfway sprawled over you, greedy for your pets and praise like he was a lap dog.

“I miss having a dog,” you admit with a sheepish, sleepy grin.

He hands you the water for your side and nods. “Grew up with dogs out here.” He knows that it’s common, but there hasn’t been time for a pet with the work in Colombia.

Even a single sip of the cold water is refreshing, and you put the glass down on the nightstand beside you with a hum. “There were always a lot of animals around when I was growing up. Dogs, cats, the horses, a goat for a while, a bunch of chickens…” You shrug a little and settle down under the covers with the dog still sprawled out over you. “Guess I missed it more than I thought.”

“Goats are funny things.” Javi chuckles as he gets back into the bed. The door is still open to let the dog out when he wants but he’s not worried about it. “We used to have some that would fall out, stiff as a corpse.”

“We had one that did that whenever my sister got near it. Funniest fucking thing in the world, it made her so mad.” The memory makes you giggle a little, but you’re also pretty punchy from being tired and upset all day, so you scratch lazily behind MacGyver’s ear and blow out a breath. “We should get some sleep.”

“We should.” Javi pushes down and twists his body so he can turn off the bedside lamp and plunge the room into darkness. “I know you are tired, muñeca.” He murmurs as he wonders how long it will take him to fall asleep beside you.

“Mmm.” You are, but you doubt you’ll do anything tonight but pet the dog and stare at the wall. His age-old habit of calling you ‘doll’ seems so much more intimate when it’s said in a shared bed and you can’t do anything about it. Masturbating four inches away from him on the same mattress is out of the question. “Night, Jav.”

“Night.” Javi shifts, settling into the bed and sighing softly, tucking his arm behind his head as he looks up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily overhead. The next few days until that room can be cleaned out will be interesting.

******

The most interesting part, unfortunately, was finding out that the old guest room bed hidden underneath ten years of clutter was broken in two places, making it completely unusable. After more than a week of pulling things out of that room, you and Javier had stood in dusty clothes and looked down at the frame in defeat, deciding to deal with it when you got back from your hearings in Washington, which would begin after the next weekend. A few more days in that bed together with the dog between you wouldn’t kill you — although you were increasingly frustrated at this point — and you would be in DC for however long they saw necessary. After that? After that you would know if you were headed back to Colombia or another field office. Or if you still had a job at all.

“At least we have Danny’s wedding this weekend.” It will be an opportunity to see a lot of family, although there has been a steady stream of visitors to the ranch after word got out that Javi was home.

“Right.” Wincing slightly, you nod and sit back in the chair you parked yourself in when MacGyver came bounding into the house to demand attention. “I should probably make sure I have something other than jeans to wear to that.” The idea of shopping for Javi’s cousin’s wedding is vaguely outlandish, but you’re not sure you have much of anything in your bag from Colombia that would be appropriate.

Javi chuckles and shakes his head. “I’m wearing jeans, I don’t think you’d be out of place.” He honestly doesn’t know if he’s ever seen you in a dress outside of work.

“I think the ghost of my granny would rise up and smack me upside the head if I wore jeans to a wedding.” You laugh at the image and sigh, pushing up from your seat. “C’mon, sweet boy,” you coax the dog. “Let’s go see what’s left in that suitcase that I haven’t unpacked.” Over your shoulder, you throw Javier a familiar smile. “Maybe I have something from that undercover stint I did a couple of months ago.”

His brows rise and he stares after you for a moment. That undercover stint had not been family friendly and he had tried so hard to ignore how good you looked.

“What?” When Javi’s reaction is the opposite of what you were expecting, you stop halfway down the hallway and turn. “Too inappropriate? I might not even have anything with me, anyway.”

“It was…a nice dress.” He comments, shaking his head. “It will look good.” You would be the sexiest woman there, though that wouldn’t be hard when everyone else is either family or lifelong friends. His problem is that every person there believes that you are his and he will be fielding ribald jokes all day.

“Wouldn’t want you to be embarrassed to be seen with me.” It picks at you in a way you haven't expected, that he has just let everyone believe you’re together. Even Chucho is still convinced of it and at this point there is probably no telling him otherwise. Every subsequent night you spend in his son’s bed is proof to him, even if you sleep with the door cracked open and the dog between you, and have never shared physical affection in any way.

“Never be embarrassed about being seen with you.” He frowns, wondering where that comment came from. You’re a good looking woman and know that. You got hit on all the time, the men around the embassy and the members of the Bloc. You are probably the one embarrassed to be seen with him. “You call Steve?”

“Yeah.” It’s awful when he bristles at you like a cat with its fur standing on end, but since you have no clue what you did to deserve it this time, you just turn into his room to look at what’s left in your suitcase. “He’s gonna hang on to my stuff until I know if they’re transferring me or outright firing me.”

“I’m sure he misses you.” The close proximity to you is starting to gnaw at him. The ache in his cock matches the hollowness in his heart. Reminding himself that this isn’t what you want, he sighs at the broken bed, putting on his gloves again to toss the ruined item into the large pile of junk that’s been amassed to take to the dump.

“Sure. I mean…that’s what you do with friends, right?” Rummaging in the bottom of his closet, you come out of your suitcase with a little black dress and a pair of stylish high heels that you’d bought for the op, using it as an excuse to get something nicer than what you wore for work everyday. Telling yourself that you’d kept them on the off chance that you ever got asked out on a date. “Are these okay?” You ask, appearing in the guest room doorway a second later. “I have some colorful jewelry so I won’t look like I got lost on my way to a funeral.”

“Whatever you want to wear.” Javi doesn’t know much about women’s fashion besides how to peel a woman out of her dress, but it seems fine to him. “You will look good.”

"Okay." It was an attempt to engage with him, to maybe hear an anecdote or get encouragement, but he's closed himself off again. It just makes you want to shrug it off and walk away so you go back to his room to put the clothes away and grab your book off the nightstand. You'll go read and get out of his hair for a while. Clearly spending so much time around you is grating on him.

Javi sighs again when you walk away, watching you and he can’t help the way his eyes tip down to your ass. It’s a nice ass. Making him frown when he remembers Steve saw it. He’s never been a jealous man, but fuck if he’s not jealous of that fucking hillbilly right now.

Finding Chucho out in the garden shouldn't have been a surprise, but when you flop down on the porch swing in back of the house with your book and look up to see him smiling and waving from the herb pots, you still startle a little. "H-hey Pops." You wave back awkwardly and silently congratulate yourself on being dumb enough to accidentally trade one Peña for the other. There's no escape though, because if you flee Chucho's presence you'll just have to explain yourself later.

“Mija.” Chucho notices the unhappy look on your face that you quickly decide to suppress. “My son giving you heartburn?” He asks, swiping his hat off his head to wipe the sweat. “I keep telling him that he does not have to be so glum all the time.”

"It's nothing, Pops, I promise." The last thing you want is for him to be thinking that you and Javi are having relationship problems when you have no relationship to begin with. "I'm just a little anxious." Good. You'll go with that. He knows the hearings are coming up anyway.

“They would be fools not to take you back.” Chucho grunts, although he keeps his opinion on whether you should go back to himself. “If they don’t, you can stay here as long as you want. Javier likes you here.”

"The standards are different for me." It's bullshit, but it's true. Being a woman, you have to out perform every single one of your male coworkers in order to just keep your head above water. And you had let yourself get sentimental over Javier - the one man in your universe who never seemed to care what you thought of him in the first place.

“They know that one day you will be telling them that you are carrying Javier’s baby.” Chucho huffs, shaking his head. “Stupid men believe women cannot carry a child and do a job. Even though women are stronger than men.”

"That—um—" To hear that from his father flusters you beyond imagination, and you nearly vibrate in a very uncomfortable way. "That isn't...Chucho that's not...Javi and I don't have that kind of relationship." You hate feeling like you're lying to the man when he's been so incredibly kind to you. Maybe it's better that he knows the truth. If you're not Javi's girlfriend he might not want you here — and that's something you need to know.

“Not now.” Chucho huffs. “When the boy gets his head out of his ass and decides to make an honest woman out of you, he will want babies.” He leans against the railing and smirks. “He’s actually good with the bebitos.”

"No, that's not what I—" You stop though, tilting your head slightly in confusion. "I've never seen him look anything but terrified in the presence of babies or small children."

“Really?” Shock turns to amusement and Chucho nearly doubled over laughing. “He said he was going to pretend he knew nothing.” He gasps as he chuckles after a long minute. “Mija, Javier is the oldest of all the cousins. He was changing diapers before he was eight. His tía swears he was the only one who could get Danny to stop crying.”

"Really?" The idea of Javi taking care of any kid is unexpected to you, and you hate the way it warms through you. The way it makes you yearn.

“He is a good boy, a bit stubborn.” He chuckles and shakes his head. “But throw a baby in his arms and the boy would light up.”

"Not in Colombia." You shake your head a little. "Our other partner...he and his wife had adopted a baby while she was in country with us. I don't think I ever saw Javi go near her."

“Olivia.” Chucho nods. “Javier blames himself for what happened to her mother.”

"Sometimes the best thing we can do is work toward the best solution for a bad situation." Sweet little Olivia is with Connie now, and although you don't know what will happen between Connie and Steve, you know that baby will be loved and looked after. That's all you can really hope for sometimes. Love and care.

“That is a good way to look at it mija.” He nods, looking back out at the garden. “You will be good for him.” He promises you. “Everything he’s ever told me about you is true.” He reaches over and pats your hand before he turns back to go down the porch steps and back into the garden.

He's talked about you? Maybe Chucho just means the things that Javi has told him since you've been in the house, you really can't be sure. The best you can do is try to push it out of your mind and open your book.

******

Once the bed frame and mattress are tossed, Javi strips down and climbs into a cold shower. Groaning at the refreshing feeling of the water as it calms his overheated skin, he leans against the wall. You are upset at him, and he wonders if he can take you into town for a meal or something to get you to forgive him.

It's been almost an hour before Javi emerges again, looking very much like himself in that blue shirt with the pinstripes that makes him look taller and crisp, clean jeans. The dogs are the first to notice him, woofing excitedly and jumping up onto the porch to get dusty pawprints on his thighs before you can even turn around.

Javi snorts and shakes his head as he scratches the dog's ears. “Do you want to go into town?” He asks casually. “Get a drink and a meal no one in this house cooked?”

Though the voice in the back of your head wonders if he's asking out of guilt, it does sound nice to get out of the house and you had started feeling hungry about a half hour ago. Cleaning the guest room had been a bigger task than either of you expected and you're pretty sure you skipped lunch most days by accident. "Sure," you nod, plucking your bookmark out of the back cover of your book and saving your page for later. "Sure, that sounds nice."

“Okay.” Javi nods and shoves his hands in his jeans. “I’ll — you go get ready and I’ll get the truck keys from Pop.”

"Okay." You nod in return and disappear back into the house to wash up and change into clean clothes. That black dress is the only nice piece of clothing you managed to pack, but the jeans you routinely wore to the office were decent looking and several of the blouses that you had brought back to the States were nice, soft, floral things that you had bought in Colombia. So when you reappear a little while later in clean clothes with your face washed and hair tamed, it almost feels like the date you know you're never going to get with him.

“Ready?” Javi pops up from the rocker and he swallows harshly at the sight of you all cleaned up. He’s going to need a double in order to not say something stupid. “Got the keys.”

"Okay." Yeah, this feels exactly like getting ready for a date, and you seriously hope that wherever he's taking you has a liquor license because otherwise you're gonna make an idiot of yourself. "Where are we going?"

“There’s this bar in town.” Javi saunters down the porch steps and out to the truck. “Looks like shit but they serve the best damn food.”

"That's usually how it goes." You follow him out to the truck and hide your surprise when he opens the door for you. The dogs are pouting from the front door to see you go but you settle back in your seat when he climbs behind the wheel. Town isn't too far of a drive and it isn't like you've never been alone with Javi. You've just been alone with him a hell of a lot more since getting suspended from the DEA than you ever were when you were active agents.

“Wings are good, but the chili rellenos are probably the best in town.” Javi throws his arm on the bench as he backs the truck up to turn it around. “And add it to a burger? I used to live off of them when I was a sheriff’s deputy.”

"A chili relleno burger?" The idea has you nearly drooling, but you tilt your head at Javi as he starts to drive. "You were a deputy? Seriously?" As much as you know him as a law enforcement officer, he's so prone to break the rules that imagining him as a small town cop just seems so unlikely.

“Yep.” He shrugs and continues to guide the truck down the long drive from the house to the road. “A million years ago when I got out of college.”

"I wanted to be Secret Service." There's no reason to tell him this, but you find it rolling off your tongue anyway as the truck rumbles down the dirt road. "I started the process and ended up with the US Marshals instead. The DEA is where I went afterward. We worked a big joint operation with the DEA in LA and they offered me a transfer for my good work." Sometimes you wonder what would have happened if you had never taken that transfer at all, if you had stayed with the Marshals, but it's too late to do anything about it now.

“No shit?” Javi is impressed, looking over at you with a grin before he hums. “No damn wonder you run laps around us.” He had always admired your work ethic. It was one of the reasons he had kept clear of you, wanting to make sure you weren’t smeared by his reputation, although the joke was on him since you were fucking Steve.

"Yeah." You nod your head and shrug like it doesn't matter, because to some degree it doesn't. After all, Javi had been DEA for far longer than you. "Doubt they'd take me back, though."

“They’d been fools not to.” Javi sighs. “I think they will. Maybe some shit hole assignment for a few years. But you’ll overcome that.”

"You'll get to go back to Colombia. I know you will." For some reason you're certain of it. Not only because Javi tends to overcome his own shitty hardships pretty well through charm and perseverance, but because he's a damn good agent. He worked that case against Escobar longer and harder than anybody and he damn well deserves to get to go back.

“Doubt it.” He frowns and shakes his head. “It hurts not being there. Knowing that they are close to getting the bastard.”

"You will." Your hand rests on his arm on the back of the seat and you give it a supportive squeeze. After all, regardless of what else you feel for him, he's your partner. Your friend. "I can feel it."

“Thanks.” Javi sighs again and tries to shake off the glumness. “Maybe after Escobar is caught…you can figure out what you are doing with…Steve.”

"I really wish you would stop bringing that up," you tell him, letting your own sigh loose. "It was one time, we were drinking, and it was a mistake. That's all. He missed Connie and I—" He doesn't need to know, you remind yourself sternly. "I let it go too far."

He didn’t know that. He had assumed that it was something more. At least more than once. “I’m sorry.”

"We were never going to tell anyone." It feels like an explanation is warranted, since you snapped a little, and you sit back in your seat. "I don't know what happened. Somebody found out and it got back to the higher ups." Stupidly, you shrug. "Sometimes you do shit you shouldn't have for dumb reasons. That's all. He's my best friend, and it shouldn't have happened."

“I thought you two were having— that it was something more.” He admits, shrugging slightly. He doesn’t want to admit that he was jealous. He’s not your best friend.

"You thought we were having an affair." You swallow a sigh and wish you had brought your cigarettes. "It wasn't that. We just...neither of us could have what we wanted, so sometimes when that happens you make the dumb decision to cling to whatever is closest."

“Why couldn’t you have what you wanted?” He catches that and frowns slightly. Wondering what you couldn’t possibly get.

"Doesn't matter now." He's perceptive as hell as an agent, but shit sometimes Javi is oblivious. And the last thing you want is to make shit awkward between you by admitting that you want him and pretty much always have. Since you met, at least.

He frowns and wonders why you are being cagey. Unless it was someone in Colombia that you had left behind. “Well, I’m sorry.”

"You didn't do anything to be sorry for." It's not his fault that he doesn't want you. It's not like he sat back and consciously decided not to be attracted to you. That would be kind of insane, to be honest.

“No, I did.” Javi snorts. “Spent so much time making sure no one thought you would sleep with me, I didn’t notice you and Steve.”

"You made it very clear that you didn't want to sleep with me." And it fucking stings that he would be so casual about bringing it up. Maybe dinner was a mistake. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.

“Oh I wanted to sleep with you.” Javi snorts. “That’s why I made sure everyone knew I wasn’t.” He taps his fingers on the steering wheel. “There was a betting pool on how long before I fucked you when you showed up.”

"You–I–there was a what??" There is no way to disguise the shock in your voice, and you probably should have taken a breath before you opened your mouth, but you're too dumbstruck for logic at the moment.

“Yeah.” Javi shakes his head in disgust. “Bastards, every one of them. Acting like it was just some kind of game. That you weren’t an agent and just another worker at the brothel.”

"Okay, but–" Your mind is spinning a little and you reach to shut off the truck's radio, hoping that it will help you think a little more clearly. "But you–you said that–Jesus fucking Christ this can't be happening..."

“You didn’t know?” Javi looks over at you and wonders why this seems to be rocking you so harshly. “Even the damn ambassador had a stake in the pool.”

"No I didn't fucking know!" And right now it feels like it's going to drown you, the disbelief and the frustration crashing over you in equal measure. "And Steve sure as fuck didn't know. Otherwise he should have fucking said something instead of sleeping with me."

What the fuck does Steve have to do with it? Javi frowns and shakes his head. “They all talked about it in Spanish. You know he can’t fucking understand half of a conversation on a good day.”

"He can't even order in a restaurant." Which was a source of endless amusement, but it doesn't answer your biggest question. The one that has you turning to watch him while he drives with exhausted curiosity. "So...you were protecting my reputation? Is that it?"

“You’re a good agent.” Javi insists. “If they thought you were fucking me, they wouldn’t give you any of the respect you are due.” It’s bullshit and completely wrong, but it’s what would have happened. “So I just….acted like you were a man.”

That makes you groan, and you cover your face with both hands as he drives. “Fucking, of course you did.” That certainly explained a hell of a lot, even if you’re not thrilled about the answer. He had done it out of respect, knowing that you couldn’t get both. Meanwhile, you would have gladly taken the option to be banged like a screen door in July.

You don’t sound happy about his decision as you groan and he is utterly confused. “Sorry?” He practically asks it, unsure why you are annoyed. You know how men act.

"You didn't do anything wrong." In fact, he did less wrong than you had originally thought, which makes it so much more difficult to be mad about.

“You sound pissed.”

"I'm surprised." Pissed is the wrong word, although you're not exactly excited to find out after the fact that you didn't have a chance for entirely different reasons than you thought.

Silence falls in the cab of the truck and Javi feels you shifting beside him as he drives. It’s probably that it was kept from you, he decides. You never like being kept in the dark, but he had never shared anyone’s proclivity for locker room bragging. The awkwardness and discomfort of the whole situation makes you feel like you’re walking on eggshells, until eventually you shift one too many times and can’t stand it anymore. “I thought you didn’t like me,” you murmur, staring out the window.

“Oh.” Javi is shocked you would feel that way, but he guesses it’s not too much of a stretch. “I thought you didn’t care. You never seemed to think I was anything but a manwhore.”

The times you had teased him about it or made side comments were very definitely not your finest moments, and if you could fold up into a pretzel in this truck as he pulls into town, you would. “Of course I care.” This is barreling dangerously close to a confession, but you don’t know what else to say. The idea that you don’t care about him is absolutely the furthest from the truth.

He had thought that you were judging him for how he spent his time and who he slept with. There had seemed to be an edge of disdain to your barbed comments, so he had assumed that you hadn’t approved. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Javi huffs. “I’m not sleeping with anyone.”

“That’s…technically not true.” And the realization makes you huff at your own ridiculousness and even roll your eyes. “You’re just actually sleeping with me, not the euphemism.”

He chuckles and shrugs. “And the dog.” He reminds you, MacGuyver deciding that his favorite sleeping spot is between the two of you. Javi slept on the edge of the mattress most nights.

“I love that dog but he is a bed hog.” It’s sweet, though, and has kept you from doing anything stupid, which you have to stay grateful for.

“So it’s not just me?” Javi grunts. “I’m almost falling off the damn bed by morning.”

“We’re both sleeping on the edge and MacGyver’s got the whole bed to himself.” A half-laugh makes it out of you as he pulls up in front of a nondescript building and you shake your head. “This it?”

“This is it.” Javi puts the truck into park and shoots you a grin. “Just say no to the Hellspawn Boilermaker.” He advises you before he climbs out of the truck.

“Why would you tell me that?” You’re out of the truck and onto the sidewalk in an instant and throwing him a pout. “Now I have to know!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He cautions, striding up to the door and holding it open for you.

Inside is dimly lit and a little on the loud side, with plenty of people drinking and just as many eating while the jukebox plays and the pool tables in the corner stay active. It’s a hole in the wall for damn sure, but an inviting one. “Do you want to sit at the bar?” Javi asks, spying a small table in the corner of you don’t.

“Wherever.” This is his town - his place - and you are flexible as long as he feels comfortable. You’re going to be in your head the whole dinner now that you know he used to want you anyway, so you truly couldn’t care less.

“Let’s sit at that table.” He would rather not answer a dozen questions on being home. So he guides you over to the small table.

A waitress notices you quickly enough, bringing over two thin menus and taking your drink orders while simultaneously making it obvious that she finds Javi extremely attractive. Not that you can blame her, but she is awfully blatant about it. What if you were on a date or something?

Javi studies the menu quickly before setting it aside and leaning back, reaching for the ashtray. He has been dying for a cigarette and needs one now.

"So this is an old haunt?" The menu is nothing surprising - basically barbecue and some house specialties, but it all sounds damn good.

"Pretty much." Javi smirks slightly. "We all used to drink underage here, back when that wasn't horrible." He explains. "Then most of us became solid citizens. Half the police force in Laredo used to come here."

"Boilermakers for all?" You guess, shooting him a grin.

Javi chuckles and shrugs slightly. "I'm surprised that it wasn't offered when we ordered our drinks. Wonder if they still do it. It was a tradition."

"When I was in the Marshals, we used to do these awful tequila bombs after missions." For better or for worse, you haven't had one in years. Although it almost feels like a sentimental memory now, it was more like hazing back then. "Thank god we could get good tequila in LA. If I had tried that where I grew up, it would have been cheap shit and bad beer and tasted even worse."

He chuckles again and nods. "This is a habanero infused whiskey with a shot of pickled jalapeño juice dropped in it, all dropped into a glass of Budweiser. Have to drink it all in one shot."

"Ugh." The grimace on your face is immediate, but still you're laughing. "So the kind of thing Milgroup would make their boys drink and tell them it's a Colombian specialty?"

"Yep." The waitress swings back by, dropping off drinks and lingering for just a moment, so Javi picks up his whiskey and looks up at her. "You still offer the Hellspawn?" He asks curiously before he downs the shot in one toss of his head.

"Only to people brave enough to try it," she simpers, clearly meaning dumb instead of brave, but not wanting to put him off.

Javi smirks and looks over at you. "Give us two and a basket of cheese fries to cool down with." He orders.

"We're both going to do the barbecue burger." There isn't even a debate on that – the burger boasted cheddar cheese, thick cut bacon, house barbecue sauce, and onion straws with house-made pickles on the side and that has both your name and Javi's written all over it like a neon sign. When the waitress nods and walks away with your menus, you sit back and laugh at his expression. "You didn't think we'd both gravitate toward the same thing? That's the quintessential burger for us."

"I expected you to go for the chili relleno burger." He admits with a small grin.

"I thought about it." You really did, especially since he had mentioned it on the way here. "But...onion straws. You know I'd probably climb through the jungle in high heels for anything having to do with fried onions."

"That is true." He frowns. "Haven't you already run through the jungle in high heels though?"

Only once, but it had been early on and Javi had made you out to be something of a legend for managing it. "Yeah, so I know what a pain in the ass it is."

"I wouldn't want to find out for myself." He picks up the glass of water that had been delivered with the other drinks and takes a sip. "Word of advice, don't try to drink water after the Hellspawn. Makes it worse."

“Noted.” Although that has you morbidly curious, you don’t ask questions. He ordered the cheese fries, that’s what is going to happen after the drink of doom.

The jukebox starts to play and Javi looks around the bar again. Noting that not a lot has changed over the years. "So we just need to get through Danny's wedding." He broaches the subject. "I'm sorry, but I think pop has told the entire family that we are together. So expect questions and tales about the wedding that wasn't."

“Why didn’t you ever tell them that we aren’t?” It is such a point of curiosity and frustration that you need to ask. As much as you don’t want to upset him, you need to know why he never just told his family that you aren’t his girlfriend.

He sighs and shakes his head. "It's–" He doesn't want to admit that he had talked a lot about you with his Pop, giving the man the impression you were very important to him. Because you were. "I don't know." He admits with a shrug, figuring that it was easier to say that than to admit that he wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship with you.

“Bullshit.” It is, and you’ll call him out on it any day of the week. There’s apparently shit he’s been hiding from you, but this isn’t going to be on that list anymore.

He frowns, lips curled unhappily and he reaches for his cigarettes again after crushing out the one he just finished. "What the fuck do you want me to say?" He demands, shoving the cigarette between his lips and flicking the zippo open.

“The truth.” Your beer is going to be empty pretty quickly at the rate you’re drinking it, but fuck it. You’re annoyed after everything that got said in the truck. “I’m not gonna get mad, Jav, whatever it is. But I just found out you’ve been keeping shit from me and you’re lying about this and I hate being lied to.”

"I haven't lied." Javi shakes his head, lighting the cigarette and taking a long drag off of it before blowing the smoke up into the air. "Not to you. And I've kept plenty of shit from you." It's not the best argument but you don't let it go, just staring at him and waiting for your answer. He sighs and catches the waitress's eye, lifting his glass to indicate he wants another drink and sighs again. "Because I didn't want to tell them you weren't my girlfriend."

“But I’m not.” The lackluster explanation has only made you more confused, and you drain the end of your beer with your eyes pinched closed. “You just don’t want them to know you’re single? Jav, I would have given you shit about it but I would have played along. You could’ve just asked. I get having an invasive family.”

"I don't give a shit about that." Javi scoffs and shakes his head. Looking away from you in embarrassment. "You– you're the closest I've been to a relationship since Lorraine." He admits quietly, shrugging one shoulder. "It's kind of nice."

“Lorraine is…the fiancée you left at the altar?” If you’re the closest he’s been to a relationship since that, he’s even worse at them than you thought.

"Yep." Javi huffs and leans back when the woman brings over his next drink.

"Those Hellspawns are almost ready." She tells him with a wink.

He nods but he doesn't watch her walk away, finding your eyes again. "Talked about you enough that Pop thought...well, he thought I was hesitant to admit we were dating."

“You talked about me?” All of this is news to you, but at least you can keep your voice down with that no one is looking your way. “Like…before you told him I was coming here?”

Javi frowns again, picking up the new glass of whiskey. "Of course I did." He tells you. "You didn't ever talk about me?"

“I don’t talk to my family.” They don’t want to hear from you and you don’t want to fight with them, so it was just easier to avoid by not calling. “The people I talked to most were you and Steve.”

He rolls his eyes, aware that any conversation with Steve about him wouldn't be a good one. "I–" He tosses back the drink and shakes his head. "It's nice, okay?" He hisses. "Fucking normal. I feel normal. Imagining that we– that you–" He breaks off and slumps back. "I'll tell them."

“He wanted me to tell you.” The words come blurring out of your mouth like you had tried to swallow lava, and it’s immediately too late to take it back.

"Tell me what?" Javi barely pays attention to you, clenching his jaw as he thinks of how to break it to his Pop that the woman who is 'perfect for him', isn't even someone he's ever kissed.

The waitress comes back, this time with a tray with six items on it. Two shot glasses, two whiskey glasses and two beer glasses. The makings of the Hellspawn. "Here we go."

With the moment broken, your sudden burst of bravery deflates and you sit back, very nearly pouting sullenly. “Right. Let’s just drink.”

"Okay." Tessa sets the tray down and smiles at Javi. "You know how this works right?" She asks, sure that he might be the most handsome man she's ever seen. "Drop the jalapeño juice into the whiskey and then drop both glasses into the beer." The glasses of beer were only half full, making sure that it's not too messy. "And those cheese fries are coming right up."

“Can’t take the barely legal waitress home if you’re still fake-dating me,” you mutter after she walks off, feeling bitter at your own stupidity at this point.

"What?" Javi frowns, confused at what you are talking about. "I– her?" He shakes his head. "I haven't even looked at her."

“Until twenty minutes ago in the truck I was under the impression that your rule was anybody but me, so I’m still adjusting,” you tell him curtly before dropping your drink together with determination and putting the concoction to your lips so you can’t say anything else stupid.

"Fuck you." Javi drops the juice into the whiskey and glares at you before he picks up that glass to drop into the beer. "I always wanted you. Still do." He picks up his own drink and starts to down it.

It isn’t until your glass is down – the foul drink being oddly tasty at first but soured by the mood that you find his eyes again. “I slept with Steve because I was depressed that you never looked at me twice.”

Javi grimaces and coughs slightly at the burn of the capsaicin in the drink before staring at you. "Probably because when I looked at you, you were walking away from me."

“He told me to tell you.” You repeat, wishing you had another drink to down, like maybe you could drown yourself in them. “Said you deserved to know. So there. I’m telling you.”

"So there?" Javi reaches for the water out of reflex. "Like I was expected to know you wanted me to look at you when you scoffed every time I left the office." You knew where he was going, what he was doing. He hadn't hidden it. You had made your feelings about his affairs very clear.

“Shockingly,” this time your sarcasm is aimed at yourself. “I didn’t handle being in love with you very well. Being jealous of every other woman in Colombia grated on me just a little.”

The water is halfway gone when Javi realizes his mistake. The burn of the peppers in the whiskey immediately increases and he feels his tongue start to burn. "Shit."

“Shit?” Not having registered the drink or the water or any of it, you sigh only so you don’t scream and squeeze one hand into fist as hard as you can. “Forget it. Never mind. I’ll get my shit out of your Dad’s house and find a hotel tonight. I’ll get out of your hair.”

Eyes watering, Javi squeezes them shut and prays that the fries come quickly. "H-hot." He wheezes after a moment of trying to speak but being unable because of how bad his mouth is watering.

“Wha—oh!” When you finally realize what happened – remembering what he said about water making the drink hotter and realizing that he had half of his glass – you are up and out of your seat in a heartbeat to go straight to the bar for a glass of lemonade or juice or even tomato juice. Anything with acid. The confused bartender gives you a glass of tomato juice with lemon and says he’ll put it in your tab in the same breath that you’re thanking him and bringing it back to the table.

Breathing hurts and Javi's trying not to inhale too much as you rush back over with the glass of juice. Shoving it into his hand as he greedily starts to gulp it down in an effort to quell the burning of his mouth and esophagus.

Acid helps heat. Carrillo told you that once when you had dinner with him and his wife and got in over your head with his wife's fantastic and incredibly spicy salsa. It won't cure him instantly but it will help, and now you're sitting at the table feeling like an idiot for getting mad about his reaction when he was in pain.

Once every drop of the juice is gone, Javi sighs, setting it down and cursing himself for being so unnerved by you and this entire situation and he had fucked up and done exactly what he had warned you again. "Thanks." He grunts, reaching for a napkin to wipe his mouth and wishes he had another beer to wash down the taste of the tomato juice.

"Sure." The awkward shuffle of two people who can barely look at each other is mercifully interrupted by the waitress arriving with the plate of fries and two more beers, and she takes your glasses away silently after reading the tension between you.

"So." Javi takes a large swallow of his beer. "Let me lay this out. I made sure not to hit on you so it wouldn't ruin your reputation. And you were mad at me for not hitting on you?" He asks, finally glancing back over at you.

"Not...technically?" Thank god there's food to concentrate on right now and you can be justified in not looking at him. "I was jealous and frustrated. Not quite mad."

"And I'm jealous that you fucked Steve." He confesses. "When I found out, I figured that was why you never seemed to like me."

"He was upset about Connie and I was upset about you." You poke at a few cheese fries with your fork and try not to curl in on yourself. "I said your fucking name in bed with him Jav, it's not like I'm not fully aware that I fucked up."

"Oh don't tell me that." Javi winces, his own fries halfway to his mouth. "I– that's– ouch."

"I just said I fucked up." You point out. "I did. And we both knew it. That's why he told me I should tell you."

"You have told me." He murmurs, shoving the fries in his still overheated mouth. "And look like you want to be anywhere else but here."

"I'm not chomping at the bit to be rejected, that's all." There is a difference between wanting someone and you just admitting to being in love with him, and you are absolutely as fully prepared to be told that he doesn't feel the same way about you that you have been the whole time. It's just that now he actually knows the extent of how you feel.

He never thought you were dim witted. Out of the three of you, Javi had personally felt you were the smartest agent there. Yet you still have not made the connection despite all the pieces being in front of you. "And you are here because I could not admit that you and I aren't together."

A long moment of silence passes between you before you close your eyes and sigh, feeling even stupider than you had a minute ago. "...fuck."

Javi doesn't say anything. Letting the moment hang between you. If you want to clarify, to ask something, you can.

"I honestly can't decide which one of us is more of a dumbass," you mutter, wiping one hand over your face. "Probably me, honestly. But fuck..."

"Did you work with Los Pepes?" Javi snorts, shaking his head. "I think that honor would go to me."

"No." The shift at the table is only your awkwardness, and you gulp another breath. "But I did go to them to beg them to let you out of your agreement, so I guess I'm specifically a sentimental dumbass."

"You shouldn't have." Javi insists. "They would have just slapped you on the wrist for fucking Steve if that hadn't come out. You would still be there. In the hunt for that bastard."

"Well, I did." The things you do for love apparently include tanking your career. "You had been there a hell of a lot longer than any of us. You deserved to see it through."

"Apparently not." Javi grumbles, shaking off the sense of disappointment. "That's life though."

"I'm sorry." It's not as though you made it worse, but you certainly didn't make it any better.

"It's not your fault." Javi knows he has no one to blame but himself. "I'm sorry." He is the one who is ultimately responsible for you being sent back to the States. He is the one who needs to apologize.

"You didn't make me go to them. For that matter, you didn't make me get drunk and stupid with Steve, either." You sigh, shaking your head. "I did what I did for my own dumb reasons and you have nothing to apologize for."

"You felt like you had to protect me." Javi hums quietly. "You put your career on the line for me."

Picking up your beer, you stare into the golden bubbles for a second before nodding. “The shit we do for love, right?”

"You don't love me, muñeca." Javi shakes his head. "You don't know all the things that I've done. You think you love me.”

“You don’t get to decide that.” You tell him flatly. “You don’t have to feel the same way, and you don’t have to be my friend, or even my partner. But you definitely don’t get to decide how I feel about you.”

That shuts him up. Staring at you for a moment before he frowns, nodding at the truth in your comment. "I am– I am not a good man."

“Does that immediately disqualify you from deserving every morsel of happiness?” Some people might say that it does, but you’ve never believed that.

"I will let you down." He sighs softly, revealing his worst fear.

"How do you know that?" Considering you haven't actually asked him for anything, the possibility is extremely miniscule. The worst he can do at this moment is tell you no, and that's what you're fully expecting. So it can't be a let down at all.

"It's what I do, muñeca." Javi snorts. "My mother, Lorraine, Helena, Oliva, Horatio, Steve, you, I let everyone down."

"And you don't deserve a chance to redeem yourself ever?" That makes you put your drink down again, and actually hold his gaze across the table. "I can't decide for you, Javi. I never thought in all the time I've known you that I actually had a chance at all, so you telling me 'no' is exactly what I expect. But if you want to give whatever this could be a chance, you very literally know where to find me."

“Don’t turn this into me rejecting you.” Javi shakes his head and leans back, folding his arms over his chest. “This is me protecting you.” He insists. “Don’t you see that?”

"I'm not trying to pick another fight." There has already been plenty of that for today. "If forgetting we ever had this conversation is what you want, that's fine. I'll smile pretty and play your fake girlfriend at your cousin's wedding, and I'll get myself out of your hair just as soon as Washington decides what to do with me. Seriously, Javi. It's fine." You've dealt with plenty of heartbreak in your life. Javier Peña won't be the first or the last person to break your heart, but you're a big girl. You'll carry on.

Javi frowns, unhappy with your answer but he can’t blame you. He’s pushing you away. “It’s not smart.” Javi shakes his head. “We’ve been drinking.”

"Fine." Despite the fact that you can feel your heart breaking in your chest, you just shrug and fold your hands in your lap under the table. "The dog takes up the whole bed anyway."

“Muñeca.” Javi murmurs quietly, his dark eyes fixed on you. Sighing softly when you won’t look at him. Hating how much you look like he’s crushing your heart.

****** To say the meal is tense is a bit of an understatement, but you pick up your book for a few hours when you get back to the house and mercifully find that Chucho has had some friends over to play poker tonight so no one is paying much attention to you or to Javi. It's just you and the dogs for a while before you figure it's safe to go to bed, seeing as you haven't seen hide nor hair of Javi since you got home.

The barn has always been a place where Javi has been able to think. The monotony of manual labor helps clear his mind and just work. Even after years away, he knows how to clean out a stall and lay fresh bedding. So the animals are getting it tonight instead of tomorrow morning? What’s a few hours when he can exhaust himself instead of going inside and begging you to let him touch you. To burn off this need that is clawing under the surface and threatening to overwhelm him.

"Looks like it's you and me, bud," you tell MacGyver, placing a kiss between his ears and shutting the bedroom door temporarily so you can put on your pajamas. It takes just a couple of minutes before you pop the door open again and crawl under the covers to give him your undivided attention. Five or ten minutes of devoted petting before shutting your eyes is good for the soul, and maybe tonight you won't end up crying yourself to sleep.

By the time that Javi closes the barn door, it’s late and every muscle in his body aches. Sweaty and needing another shower, he quietly makes his way into the house and into the bathroom. He can’t climb in the bed filthy, that wouldn’t be fair to you. Quickly showering, he wraps a towel around his waist and makes his way to the bedroom.

The dog is snoring soundly but you barely managed to stop the tears when you heard him start up the shower across the hall. With your eyes closed and the blanket pulled up to your chest you hope you look convincingly asleep, just trying not to get into another argument before sleeping.

Pushing the door open, Javi stops, listening to hear if you are still awake. “Muñeca?” He whispers softly. “Are you awake?”

It's better not to answer, you decide quickly. Better to let him think you've already drifted off so he can just settle in and fall asleep. For that matter, maybe pretending will actually help you fall asleep.

He sighs softly, unsure of why he even bothered. You hate him now. Moving over to the dresser, he pulls out a pair of boxers and slides them on. Easing his way into the bed so he doesn’t wake you, he fights for the tiniest piece that he can squeeze onto, pushing the dog over. “I wish you knew how much I love you.” He murmurs after a long moment of staring into the darkness. “How much I want to be with you.”

It's too late to say anything now, but at least you're facing away from him so he can't see that you're tearing up all over again. Of all the men in the world, you had to go and fall in love with an emotionally closed off idiot who talks to you when he thinks you're asleep. And you know for damn sure it's love because you catch yourself thinking it's cute.

“You’re going to be reassigned somewhere else.” Javi whispers. “You’re too good of an agent not to be. And if I’m– if we are together, you won’t take it. You’d give up your career for me. Again. And you’d hate me for it.”

Barely suppressing a sniffle, you squeeze your eyes shut facing the windows and say nothing. You don't move and don't make a sound, listening to him pour his heart out when he thinks you can't hear him.

“Every damn day I want you. Crave you like you’re the purest fucking cocaine that has ever come out of Colombia.” He sighs. “I’m fucking tired of jerking off in the shower, imagining how you would feel, how you would sound. But I can’t touch you and lose you. I can’t, muñeca.”

A tear actually escapes this time, damn him and his sentimentality, but you don't move to wipe it away or even flinch. His confessional is his alone. You're not supposed to be hearing a word of this.

“If it takes you hating me to keep you safe, to keep from hurting you, I’ll do it. I’ll sacrifice my own happiness for you. Anything for you.”

A sob nearly shakes you, and it takes biting your lip to keep still and silent. Thank god for MacGyver, that dog could drown out anyone with the sounds of his sleeping. He's trying to protect you. And as noble as that is, you'd rather have him than safety any day of the week.

He had imagined it would be cathartic to confess this to you. That it would be a weight off his chest, but it’s not. He doesn’t know why, but the hollow ache is still there, the weight pressing down on him. “You asked me why I didn’t tell my family that we were together.” Javi has to add one last thing and then he will bury these feelings. “I wanted to imagine what it was like for a while. Pretend that you are mine. So I could go on without you when you leave.”

Biting your lip, squeezing the pillow, muffling your mouth with your hand, none of it could possibly be enough this time. With those words out of his mouth and the raw sob that wracks through you, the best you can do is hope that he doesn't feel the bed shake - or maybe that he isn't looking at you while he's talking. Otherwise the ruse of being asleep is completely useless at this point.

“Goodnight, muñeca.” Javi whispers again, feeling the dog shake the bed. “I always called you ‘doll’ because you are precious to me.” He closes his eyes and sighs, turning towards the door so he can try to sleep even though he knows he won’t.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanficition #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #dea reader #past Steve x reader #Narcos #Narcos fanfic #the love is requited they're just idiots #THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED

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loquaciousferret · 6 months

Text

Saints and Sinners

Summary: The yearly Halloween rendezvous with your long-term no-strings lover Joel Miller is set to be shaken up when he invites a third- Javi Peña- to your hotel room.

No-outbreak AU | Joel Miller and Javi Peña existing in the same universe AU

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader x Joel Miller

Word Count: 5.7k (whoops)

Warnings below the cut | 18+ Only

Content Warnings: MATURE 18+ Disrespect of religion including the Cross. No real physical description of reader other than female anatomy and she can be lifted by or sit on top of both males. Alcohol consumption, sex whilst under the influence, oral both m and f receiving, facesitting, facefucking, unprotected sex with a stranger, consensual voyeurism and exhibitionism, facial, spitting, degradation, pet names, anal play, MMF threesome, a suggestion of but not actual infidelity, discussion of age gap between the sexual partners.

A/N: Hey homies, I’ve come out of retirement for one day only for halloween (It’s also my birthday) this started off just something hot but accidentally turned fluffy and deep towards the end. Consider that my birthday gift to myself. I hope you enjoy!

You analyse your appearance in the mirror for what might be the hundredth time, straightening the garish crystal-covered cross that hangs on a delicate chain from your neck. The base of it just slightly tucks into the cleavage that is spilling from the top of the satin black mini dress. A few strands of hair peak out from the matching black covering on your head, framing your face perfectly. Sexy nun. What a great Halloween costume. Offensive? Probably. But hot? Definitely.

Joel had texted you a few hours previously with the room number for your usual luxury downtown hotel. 308. Surprise inside. The message had read. A man of few words was Joel Miller, but you didn’t mind. Your annual meeting didn’t need much introduction.

You checked the time on your phone and realised you were in a rush. Your scheduled Uber, the chariot that would deliver you to Joel, would be there in half an hour. You quickly grabbed your bottle of wine, still only half finished, and poured yourself another large glass. After all this time, the nervous butterflies that gathered in your stomach prior to seeing him should have faded, but on the contrary, they seem more powerful each passing year.

By the time you had finished off the bottle you were rushing to cover yourself with a long black coat and put your heels on to head out the door. The nerves had barely subsided and the alcohol only served to hinder your balance as you hurried to the car.

You arrived at the hotel, which you hadn’t visited since this time last year. It was a looming black structure that stood out against the rest of the buildings on the street. Once inside the lobby, it was like you were in another dimension altogether. It was dimly lit and strongly scented with candles and diffusers. It was soundproofed well, to the extent that you would never know you had just stepped off of a busy city street. It was familiar and yet mysterious every time you visited. It certainly wasn’t the sleazy motel you would imagine to typically be used for you and Joel’s purposes. You didn’t know how often other people typically visited hotels. They are usually a place of passing. So, after visiting on the same weekend every year for five years, you felt like perhaps you were a regular.

You spoke to the man at the desk who welcomed you with warm eyes and a kind smile. It was the kind of place where the staff always made you feel important. He handed you a wallet made of thick black card with the hotels gold logo embossed on the front.

“The keycard is just inside. Take the elevator to the third floor and you’ll find 8 on your right.” He says. “And I’m here all night, should you need anything at all.”

“Thank you.” You say, and proceed nervously to the elevator. The hand holding the wallet is actually shaking. Pull it together.

The elevator ride to the third floor is over quicker than you would have liked, and suddenly you are stepping out into a dim corridor. The same thick scent that fills the lobby also lingers here. Deep and musky, like oud, and yet fresh at the same time. The whole thing is a sensory experience.

You turn to find 308 and take deep breaths with each stride. You’re about to see him again. With each year that passes, you always worry things will have changed, and yet they never do. He is always the same Joel, the same scent, the same strong frame, the same quirks in his speech. He is something entirely familiar to you, just as you are to him. Two halves of a pair entirely in tune with one another, able to predict each others every word, every movement. He is the one constant you can always rely on. You just know him.

But when you insert the keycard and let yourself into the room, you are staring into the face of someone entirely unfamiliar.

“Uhh- I-“ You began to stutter. There must have been some mistake, but you don’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry, I think uh- I-”

“Don’t worry.” He said with a smooth Texan accent. “You’re in the right place. You’re Joel’s girl, right?”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion as you try to piece it together. The question, asked with such casualness as though he already knew it to be true, was so complicated that you could barely wrap your head round it. You weren’t Joel’s girl, not even close. Why did he think that? How does he know Joel?

Once you looked at him properly, you realised that whilst he was younger, this stranger, his resemblance to Joel other than that was striking. He looked more like him than his own brother. The same hooked nose and serious brow bone, but his hair was shorter and straighter, dark brown not yet peppered with grey like Joel’s. And unlike Joel’s scruff of stubble, this man was clean shaven except for a thick moustache.

So this was the surprise. You realised. Where the hell did he find this guy?

“What is this?” You ask. It came out harsher than you expected and you cringed at yourself for being so rude. But this was not part of the arrangement, and you hadn’t prepared yourself. The butterflies in your stomach swelled painfully.

“I don’t know, sweetheart.” He said. “Some kind of Halloween treat I guess.”

“Is it? Seems like more of a trick to me.”

The man chuckled, unphased by your comment. Whatever this was, well, you had a pretty good guess, and whilst you weren’t against it in theory, you were pissed Joel had pulled something like this. But he always had to change the rules and shock you. It was just part of his addictive game.

The man rose from the comfortable chair in which he had been slouched, thighs wide, manspreading and confidently exposing a bulging package inside his tight jeans. He reached for a bucket containing an expensive champagne, popped it open without any fuss and poured two large flutes full. He held one out for you and you took a tentative step towards him.

“I don’t bite.” He said, flashing a toothy grin that made you doubt his statement.

You took it from him anyway, your hand brushing against his large warm one as you clutched the stem. You took a sip and the warm bubbles floated down your chest and into your stomach, heat radiating where it mixed with the white wine from earlier.

Damn this whole situation, you think, and yet you can’t fool yourself into thinking you won’t do exactly what Joel intended you to do with this guy. When he calls, you answer. When he gives, you take. And when he tricks you into meeting a handsome stranger and screwing him, for whatever reason, you oblige just so.

“So, um…”

“Javi.”

“So, Javi.” You say. “What are you supposed to be dressed as?”

“Uhhh…” He hums as if he hadn’t really thought about it. “A cop.” He says eventually.

“Then where’s your uniform?” You challenge.

“Undercover cop I guess.” He shrugs, smirk plastered on his face. “You on the other hand. You went all out, huh?”

“Oh, this old thing?” You say, running your hand up your side from the hem of the dress to your cleavage, which you lean towards him for a better view.

His tongue flicks out across his lower lip. You giggle and lean back to where you had been sitting before, but he reaches an arm out to wrap around your waist and pull you a little closer towards him.

“How do you know him?” You ask. You don’t want to pry, but if you’re going to let him fuck you, you want at least a few details.

“Uhh…” His responses don’t come easily to any of your questions, as if he is consistently just thinking up answers before offering them. “We met at poker.”

“I didn’t know he gambled.” You say.

Javi looks at you with a quizzical expression, like it was obvious. Like Joel and gambling are synonymous and it wouldn’t make sense not to immediately associate them. It stings for some reason.

“Right.” He says, expression still twisted. “So not his girl then, I guess. Then how do you know him.”

But you hum too while you think of your answer, and so you give Javi some slack for his own hesitation.

“Old friends.” You say simply, giving nothing away. “How did this come about though?”

He laughs a little, ducking his head as if unsure whether to be honest. “A bet.”

“A bet?” Your eyes widen and you respond in shock. You’re rightfully offended by the insinuation, but it doesn’t make you angry. If anything, it sends another aching sensation between your legs. “He- He bet me? You won a bet for me?”

He laughs at that, a proper laugh, like the suggestion itself was downright ridiculous, although you are unsure why. You had considered it a pretty sound conclusion. “Actually, no.” He explains. “It was Joel who won the bet.”

Your eyebrows are drawn together in thought and he smirks as he watches you piece what you can together.

“So…” You say, unsure what to think of it all. “So he really wants us to do this?”

“I guess so.” He says, finishing off his champagne. Yours is empty too and he takes the glass from you, heading back to the desk to find the rest of the bottle. “You want another?” He asks.

You shake your head no and he comes and sits down next to you on the bed again.

“Is he… Is he coming? I mean are we supposed to wait or- or- do we have t-“

He cuts you off and puts a comforting hand on your thigh. “Hey, there is no ‘have to’. Whatever you like. I’m a man of the law, darlin’. I won’t make you.” He pauses just for a beat. “Unless that’s what you’re into.”

You flush at the insinuation, looking away from him. Damn your bashful complexion. Damn Joel for this twisted trick. Damn this handsome dude for making it impossible not to throw yourself into his lap and kiss him.

He responds to you immediately, his hands wasting no time feigning respectfulness before attaching to your ass and groping you through the tightly stretched fabric.

You grind into him as he deepens the kiss, one hand leaving your ass to come round and grip your jaw. The thick denim of his jeans stimulates you through the thin barrier of your underwear.

“Dirty girl.” He says as you speed up your movements, grinding yourself against his growing bulge deliberately to pleasure yourself. “That outfit just pretend or somethin’? Where’d ya learn to do that?”

You don’t speak back and you focus on unbuttoning his shirt instead, not breaking the kiss as you work at the buttons. The alcohol has affected your dexterity and eventually he pulls back and starts undoing them himself. You reach for his belt instead, unclasping it and then pulling down the zip on his jeans.

By then his shirt is off, and you take in the wide expanse of honey skin. He is slimmer than Joel, but still built strong. Lean and toned muscle take the place of Joel’s, which are hardened by life but softened by age. It’s not just the resemblance that had you comparing the two. You compared every lover to Joel. Eventually you just had to stop sleeping with anyone else, because no one measured up. There was simply before Joel, and after Joel. And after Joel, well… nothing else would suffice. Apart from this handsome stranger nominated by Joel personally. That, you were willing to try.

You fumble clumsily with his jeans until he takes over that, too. He grinds his palm into the hard bulge as he does so. You smirk a little when the trail of hair that is peeking out is revealed further, showing he isn’t wearing underwear.

He pushes them down his legs, not bothering to remove them fully, lays backwards, and then his hands are grabbing at your sides and pulling you up further so you are sitting on his stomach.

“You’re just something else, ain’t ya?” He says, his voice thick with desire for you.

You flush and he starts to take apart your costume, removing the head piece and uncovering your hair which remains perfect underneath. Then, he reaches behind you and unzips the dress, his touch gentle but still urgent, fuelled by desire. You raise your arms to let him slide it over your head, exposing your bare chest, and his hands immediately move to cup your breasts, kneading gently and toying with your nipples with his thumbs.

“Look at you…” He coos.

You basked in his attention. He was softer than Joel. Sweeter. Then you scolded yourself for comparing them and tried to enjoy the moment, leaning down to kiss him.

He pushed you away. “Uhuh.”

You frown, but he is quickly grabbing your thighs and pulling you further up his chest towards his face. You let him guide you until you are hovering over him, his mouth kissing at you through your lace underwear.

You let out a desperate sigh and you feel him smirk under you. He presses another few kisses before opening his mouth and dragging his tongue up and down your underwear.

You feel yourself shaking a little already, and you put effort into breathing deeply to avoid pathetically moaning so soon.

You gasp as Javi brings his hand up to your underwear, pulling it aside so his tongue has access to your wet core.

As soon as his tongue connects, he lets out a groan. Your knees shake and whilst you had been trying to hover slightly before, you end up fully sitting on his face. This encourages him even more, sloppily eating you out, his nose brushing your clit. He licks, sucks, and kisses each spot perfectly. His moustache tickles a little and you realise you have never slept with a dude with one before.

“Oh, god-“ You gasp, cutting yourself off with a loud moan. “Javiii-“

He moans into you as he eats you out hungrily, sending vibrations around your aching core.

“Fuck-“ You say. You rip yourself out of his grasp and shuffle down his body where his cock stands, hard and throbbing. You had to stop him before you came all over his face. Joel wouldn’t have appreciated that.

You glide your dripping cunt up and down his shaft, wetting it before rising up on your knees and taking it gently in your hand. You sink down onto it and watch his expression. He grits his teeth in pleasure.

You let it fill you for a moment, not moving while you adjust to his length. He has less girth than Joel, but not much. His length is equal, hitting a spot deep inside you as you gently rock back and forth. Once you are prepared, you start to move, slowly at first, but with gradually increasing pace and force.

Using your hands to help you balance, you start to bounce in a quick rhythm up and down his length. Your tits jiggle in his face, the cross hitting against his lips. He takes it between his teeth and you giggle, your hole fluttering and pulsing as you do so. This causes him to spit it out, his mouth opening in a sensual moan.

“Fuck, baby, you ride this cock so damn good-“ He pants, hands grabbing at your ass greedily, spreading your cheeks and helping you with your momentum as you bounce on his length shamelessly. The praise encourages you to keep trying hard to please him.

Your moans are desperate as you keep going, your head thrown back and your mouth open. Your eyes roll pornographically. When you eventually summon the strength to open them and look down at him, you see him transfixed on you.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” He grunts, “Fucking ride that dick, baby, yeah. Oh yeah just like that”

You are too wrapped up in the sensations, the sounds, of you and Javi, that you don’t notice the door opening. It’s heavy footsteps on the lush carpet that break you out of your trance. You whip your head round, the motion of your hips not faltering, as you make eye contact with him. Joel. At last.

He smiles a dark smile, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene before him. You realise how depraved it must all be from his perspective, the bejewelled Cross sticking to your tits with sweat as you bounce on this stranger’s cock.

“Don’t be rude, baby.” Are the first words out of his mouth. “Keep your eyes on what you’re doing.”

You break away from looking at him reluctantly, focussing your attention back on Javi, whose head is thrown back into the pillows, mouth falling open and eyes now closed in pleasure. You see sweat glistening on his throat and something urges you to lean down and lick a wide stripe up it, the salty taste beautiful on your tongue.

You try to pay attention to Javi and not let yourself get distracted by Joel’s movements. You hear the splash of liquid into a glass and realise you had observed his favourite whiskey earlier, right next to the champagne bucket. The signs of him had been all over the room already and you hadn’t noticed.

You continue to chase your pleasure, the alcohol supplying you with a rare confidence that left you able to perform for both men with little shame. You slow down your movements, feeling Javi deep inside you and grinding your clit against the dark curls at the base of him. Your moans become louder as you do so, rubbing against him rhythmically until you feel the tension of an orgasm building.

“I’m gonna cum.” You gasp, your voice strained.

“No you’re not.” Says the voice from behind you.

Javi’s eyes are open again, watching you, taking in every expression on your face. He smirks at Joel’s words and grips your thighs, preventing you from moving.

“Please-“ You gasp, unsure which of the two men you are pleading with. Your hips jerk involuntarily to chase the same sensation you had been creating previously but Javi keeps a firm grip on you.

“No. You’re going to step being selfish and ride him like a good girl.” Joel instructs. “And you’re gonna hold it. The only cock you’ll come on will be mine.”

You whimper pathetically, turning your head to look at Joel, who is sitting in the armchair I the corner of the room with a perfect view of the bed, hopeful that your wrecked expression might make him take pity on you.

“What did I tell you about manners already?” He scolds, unmoved by you. “Don’t look at me. Look at him.”

When you do, you find Javi’s expression is amused. He doesn’t add to the exchange, simply observing you and Joel’s dynamic, listening as the other man bends you to his will so easily.

You brace your hands on his chest once again and try to follow Joel’s instruction, abandoning the pleasure you had been giving yourself by grinding on his cock and going back to bouncing on it. You can’t find your rhythm and Javi helps you, thrusting his hips upwards into you.

Joel tuts disapprovingly as he watches, taunting, “You’ve forgotten how to ride a cock properly, huh? Need a lesson?”

You whine in frustration and embarrassment, giving up on your own movements and letting Javi control the pace from under you, rutting up into you with enough force that you still need to grasp at his chest to keep your balance. Your tits align with his face and he reaches up with his mouth to suck at one of your nipples.

You hear Joel moving and before you can wonder what he is doing, there are hands on you. His large palms wrap around your waist from behind, holding you tightly. Javi stops moving and Joel starts to control you, lifting you up and dropping you down harshly onto Javi’s cock. You let out a high pitched moan, to Joel’s displeasure.

“Be quiet.” He says. “This isn’t for you.”

He does it repeatedly, forcing you up and down again and again until you lose all control of your upper body, collapsing back into Joel’s wide frame. You bite your lip to hold back your moans, and then Javi helps you by reaching up and sticking a thumb into your mouth. You suck it obediently and you hear him curse under his breath.

“You gonna show him what else your mouth can do, baby?” Joel growls into your ear.

You nod eagerly and Joel lifts you off of Javi. You whimper, the sensation of being empty is unpleasant. Joel laughs darkly.

“Greedy little cunt.” He says. “Doesn’t wanna go a second without being filled up, huh?”

You ignore his teasing and get onto all fours, crawling between Javi’s legs, knowing that simultaneously, you are giving Joel the perfect view of your wet pussy. But he doesn’t touch you again and you hear his footsteps moving away from the bed. You are disappointed but after being chastised twice for looking at him, you manage to resist that urge and focus on Javi’s cock.

You start with just licking, gathering up the taste of your own juices from his shaft. You moan lightly and feel your pussy throb.

“Such a tease.” Javi says, tangling one hand into your hair. The other tucks behind his own head as he lounges back in the luxurious bedding, the image of nonchalance.

His comment doesn’t stop you, though. This is your style. You lick the tip, swirling round it with your tongue. He chases your mouth with a thrust of his hips but you pull your head back at the same time, stopping him from controlling the pace. He growls in displeasure but you choose to maintain the little semblance of control for a while longer. You replace your tongue with a hand, wrapping it around him and letting your mouth travel lower, teasing his balls with light kitten licks. He groans and you take one into your mouth fully, sucking lightly.

“Jesus-“ He sighs, bucking his hips up again involuntarily. You continue for a moment, swirling your tongue around it as it fills your mouth before releasing it with a pop and swapping the position of your mouth and hands once again.

Your hands massage his balls lightly and you finally take the head of his cock into your mouth. You lower your head slowly, very slowly, until it’s halfway in and hits the back of your throat, before rising off of it again just as slowly. He’s more patient than Joel, who would have put a stop to this much before now.

You do it again, your speed increasing only incrementally. He twitches inside your mouth and you feel his fingers gripping your hair tighter in a sign of his impatience. Soon, the game is up, and he starts forcing your head up and down urgently. You gag and splutter all over his cock but he doesn’t slow down. You are so wrapped up in it, that it takes you a while to register a weight on the bed behind you, until eventually, your attention is grabbed by a hard cock gliding up and down your wet seam.

You moan around Javi’s cock which leads him to relent in his pace a little, choosing to savour the feeling instead.

“Now you remember what I told you.” Joel says. “Don’t take your eyes off him.”

You can’t respond other than to try and nod which leads the tip of Javi’s cock to prod forcefully into the back of your throat. You gag again and feel your hole convulse, Joel grits his teeth.

He presses the tip into you slowly and within just an inch, you are so full. Full of Javi in your mouth and full of Joel now, too. You moan as he pushes further and further in, your sweet sounds sending vibrations around Javi’s cock that have him cursing incessantly.

Joel’s hands reach to take both of your hips and as soon as he has sheathed himself fully, he is pulling out again and setting an aggressive pace. This is his favourite position and you imagine it is only enhanced for him, as it is for you, by seeing your mouth all filled up too, rendering you incapable of speech, locked in place between the two men.

He hammers into you and you lose control, the blowjob becoming messier, spit dribbling all down Javi’s cock so that it is sliding in and out of your throat with little resistance. Neither of them limit the harshness of their actions, Joel pounding into your cunt and Javi into your throat. The sensation is unlike anything you have ever felt. You don’t think you can get any fuller until you feel Joel’s wet thumb prodding at your ass.

You cry out as he slips it inside you. He groans, low and satisfied. “You like that baby, huh? You like us taking up every single one of your slutty holes? Filthy whore that you are. Jesus-“

You moan at his words and Javi starts to twitch inside your mouth. He pulls your mouth off of him suddenly, not wanting to finish yet. You lower your head turning your cheek so that it rests on his thigh, your back arching in an extreme fashion. He just watches, rubbing himself gently as Joel continues to abuse both of your holes from behind.

Then eventually he pushes you off of him and moves, your eyes are closed but Joel watches what he is doing as he gets off the bed and stands at its edge, pumping his cock in his hand. Joel manoeuvres you so you are facing Javi again.

“Can I come in her mouth?” Javi asks Joel.

Joel lets out a mean laugh. “You don’t have to ask that, man. What else is a whore’s mouth good for?”

You whimper, your cunt throbbing and pulsing around Joel, unbelievably turned on by hearing them talk about you, not to you, like you aren’t even the third participant in this event.

Javi rubs his cock over your face, your cheeks, slapping at your chin with it. Just because he can. Your mouth falls open and he feeds the tip to you slowly, giving you a false sense of security before roughly slamming in the rest of the length. It forces you backwards, impaling you harder on Joel’s cock and the now two fingers which are exploring your asshole.

You feel as though you are the rope in some sick game of tug of war, the way the two of them pass you back and forth between them. Eventually you can’t even separate the sensations both men are giving you and you are left weak and boneless, just moving with the hammering tide that pulls you in and pushes you away again and again.

It’s Javi’s pace that falters first, moans and expletives escaping from his lips until his salty hot load fills your mouth. He half pulls out and spills the remainder over your cheeks and nose. It drips all over your face and he holds you up by your chin. His thumb drifts over the hot spend and directs it towards you mouth. You swallow it all and suck his fingers clean.

“Jesus, I could watch that all day.” He says. But he doesn’t, and he walks away from you after only a brief few seconds. With Javi satisfied, Joel flips you over so you are on your back. He lifts your feet, placing both ankles on his shoulders, ploughing you harder than you thought possible. You had imagined he was fucking you full force before, but like always, he ends up having just that little bit more to give.

You moan and whine helplessly, his pace unrelenting and his stamina downright cruel. You are unable to open your eyes, absolutely exhausted from him and Javi’s treatment. He doesn’t mind, satisfied with your performance already and happy to use you for his pleasure when you are in this state, soft and pliable to his every will. You vaguely register the sound of the door opening and then closing, the two men offering noncommittal farewells to one another.

“Oh, my baby.” Joel is whispering gently. “You did so well for me. You impressed me so much, sweetheart, I’m so proud of you.”

His rambling seems to go on for a long while, but then again, you don’t know how much of a concept of time you even have left. Some of his words seem distant, like they’re coming to you through a filter. Some of them are so unbelievable that you discount them as just being part of a dream.

“I’m so proud of you, my sweet girl. Always so good for me. Always do so well for me. My sweet baby.”

He must think you’re asleep, talking like this. You still aren’t entirely convinced you are awake either.

Your name falls from his lips like a prayer as he finishes inside you. You think he holds you like that for longer than usual, until he is completely soft and slips out of you, both his and your juices leaking onto the bed. He cleans you up and he kisses you. He kisses you everywhere, your face, your neck, your chest, down your stomach. You keen towards him unconsciously, weak hands grabbing at whatever part of him you can reach and ending up tangled in the curls at the nape of his neck.

“What am I gonna do with you, my girl? Hmm?” He hums into the crook of your neck.

You must have fallen asleep, although you’re not sure for how long. When your eyes flutter open, it’s still dark, and you register a weight in the bed next to you. You turn towards it.

Joel’s eyes are already open and he is gazing at you intently.

“Hi.” He says.

“Hey.” You say. You can’t help the word from trailing off into a giggle. He renders you downright stupid.

He reaches out a hand to your cheek and strokes it with the pad of his thumb, before moving to push some hair behind your ear with his other fingers. These are his rare affectionate gestures, and whilst you aren’t experiencing them for the first time, they certainly aren’t frequent.

“It’s been a long year.” He says.

You never talk about the time you spend apart. All that matters is the precious, no, sacred, time that you do get together.

“It always is, for me.” You say. He tenses a little in response and you curse yourself silently for having said too much.

To your relief, he relaxes again and pulls your body closer to him. Warmth radiates from the place where your head meets his broad chest. He kisses into the top of your head, inhaling deeply the scent of your shampoo. It’s coconut. He kisses you again and again.

Suddenly, he speaks.

“I don’t know if I can do this again.” He says.

You freeze up. A chill runs down your spine. He wants to break off the arrangement? Somehow you feel blindsided, even though every year the possibility crosses your mind that he’ll finally do it.

Maybe that’s why he brought you Javi. Maybe he thought you would hit it off and you could just move on with him, offered up to you like meat on a platter for your own convenience. Your mind runs through the last few hours in an instant, looking for any sign, any hint from Joel that was this coming. You find none.

He, blissfully unaware of every thought racing around your head, continues, rubbing salt in the wound.

“I just- I just don’t think I can do it again. I’m sorry.” He repeats.

Your heart is racing, your stomach doing backflips. This was inevitable. He’s probably met someone else. Someone who he wants more from than what he wants from you. Someone his own age who thinks the same things he does. Someone who understands the references and jokes that fly over your head. Someone who is the opposite of everything that you are insecure about. Someone powerful and equally matched for him.

But then he speaks again, quieter this time. “Listen baby, the waiting it’s just- I can’t do it anymore. How could one night a year ever be enough? I need ‘em all.”

Oh my god. You honestly thought you must have been dreaming for a moment, unable to process his words and reconcile them with actual reality.

He is silent for a long while and you realise he must be waiting on a response, but you can’t find words.

“I- I-“

You hesitate and he cuts you off. His voice is guarded now.

“No, yeah. You don’t have to explain. It’s whatever. I figured you must have someone else anyway. Didn’t wanna assume but… Yeah. It figures.”

“No.” You say quickly. “There’s no one else. There hasn’t been anyone else for- for years.”

A silence grows again. And eventually, you are first to fill it.

“How could there be anyone else?” You say. “I just stopped trying to find anyone else. It’s always been you for me, Joel. No point trying to fight that.” Your voice trails off to a whisper.

He puts a thumb under your chin, raising it so your eyes meet his for the first time during the exchange. His brown irises sparkle, lighter than you have ever seen them. He presses his lips to yours and kisses you desperately, muttering practically intelligibly about “My baby. God why didn’t I just ask sooner? My sweet baby. All mine.”

You drift off to sleep again, a tangle of limbs, breathing each other in. You don’t know what will happen in the morning, but at least you know that this time, it won’t be a year until you see Joel again.

Thanks for reading! Masterlist

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader smut #javi pena smut #agent pena smut #javier pena smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x reader smut #agent pena x reader smut #joel miller x reader x javier pena #joel miller au #tlou smut #narcos smut #tlou au #loquacious ferret #kinktober

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ilovepedro · 5 months

Text

take all of me | javier peña x f!reader

Javier Peña masterlist | Main masterlist

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Word count: ~1.7k

Summary: After trying Javier at a work event, he puts you in your place on the way home.

Warnings: established relationship, pwp (filth just pure filth), exhibitionism, a little bit of voyeurism, teeny bit of dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamic, papi (daddy) kink, dom!Javier, sub!reader, bit of brat tamer!Javier, bit of brat!reader, possessive!Javier, degradation, oral (m receiving), ass spanking, titty fucking, cum play, bit of praise kink, some spanish translations, reader is female with hair Javier can grab, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: alas, another result of watching way too many Javi edits on tiktok. he’s living in my brain like Joel’s got a roommate now, they split the rent. also, Bey + Javi will always go well together. slowly dipping my toes into brat tamer!Javi… anyway, hope y’all enjoy!! i’m gonna go watch more edits and run away now, byeee 🏃‍♀️ not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

Divider by @/saradika

His lips instantly crash into yours the second the chauffeur shuts the door, he roughly cups your face as the driver steps into the car.

“Javi, esperate mi amor. (wait, my love) The driver can see us,” you mumble against his lips. He pulls back, fishing for something in his pocket as his other hand remains on your cheek.

“Oye, patrón, puedes poner la particion por favor?” (Hey boss, can you put the partition up please?) Javier asks the driver, handing him a huge wad of pesos. The driver just looks between both of you in the rear view mirror before accepting the money.

“Claro patrón,” (Sure, boss) he says with a nod. The partition slowly rolls up, tinted pitch black, and the two of you impatiently watch as it whirs. As soon as it’s shut, Javi slams his lips back on yours, ravenously devouring you.

He swallows the small whimpers that bubble from within your chest. His large hands roam to your hips, gripping them tightly as he sweeps you over his thighs and settles you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You rut your hips into his, rubbing your core on his clothed cock, moaning at the euphoric friction. He grabs your hips in a vice grip.

“Mmm mm, baby. You think you can just get away with acting like a brat? Teasing me like that at dinner with all my colleagues, even my boss, there? Huh?” His lips ghosting over yours, giving your ass a hard squeeze.

“I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t mean to,” you say, voice caught in between a whine and a moan.

A sudden, sharp smack to your ass elicits a yelp from you, your hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Uh uh. You know my name, now use it,” he snarls.

“I’m sorry, papi. I didn’t mean to, lo prometo (I promise),” you whine.

Javier delivers a second smack to your ass, the sting of it making more slick pool in between your thighs.

“Now you’re lying to me, baby? You’re telling me you didn’t mean to grab my cock under the table in front of everyone? Didn��t mean to make me hard as a fucking rock? Because I don’t buy that one fucking bit. Una pinche putita como tu (a fucking whore like you) likes to be fucked like a brat. You thought if you pissed me off enough I’d fuck you. Am I right, baby?”

You nod as you gnaw on your bottom lip, another smack to your ass making a moan tumble from you.

“Words, muñeca (doll),”Javier growls.

“Yes, papi. You’re right,” you whimper. “Wanted to be bad so you’d fuck me, punish me with your cock.”

A smirk plays on his lips as he caresses your ass, soothing the stinging sensation.

“So fucking needy, you can never get enough of this cock, huh, princesa (princess)?” You nod a little too quickly, agreeing with him as tears of desperation sting your eyes, making him chuckle.

“My greedy girl. Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna punish you with my cock, alright,” he rasps, kissing you roughly, teeth clashing as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You moan and involuntarily buck your hips. Javier grips your waist, stopping you and pulls back from the kiss.

“On your knees, baby,” he mutters as he slides you off his lap. You sink to your knees and onto the floor of the car, settling yourself in front of Javier’s clothed cock, looking up at him.

“Look like a fucking dream, baby, on your knees for me in this goddamn dress,” he says as he caresses your cheek, hooking his index finger under your chin and his thumb running over your lips. You eagerly suck his thumb into your mouth, desperate to please him. He groans, his brows scrunched together and lips parted.

“Vamos princesa. (Let’s go, princess) Cock isn’t gonna suck itself.” He leans back against the leather seats, arms crossed behind his head as he eyes you up and down.

You fumble with his belt and pop open the buttons of his slacks and slide down the zipper. Catching one last glimpse of his eyes, you silently ask for approval. He smirks and nods, reassuring you have his permission.

Slowly wiggling his slacks and briefs down in one go, his cock springs free from the confines and the sight of him is mouthwatering. Precum dribbles from the tip, down his shaft and onto his hairs. His whole length is red and throbbing, having been half hard for at least an hour.

Batting your lashes, you dive in, licking languid stripes along his length, Javier pushing some of your hair out of your face with a groan.

You pull away, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it dribble from your lips onto his tip. Taking in a deep breath, you wrap your lips around his tip. He hisses as you suckle it into your mouth, teasingly swirling your tongue around it.

Inhaling, you hollow out your cheeks as you make your way down his cock, eventually reaching the base. His wiry hairs tickling your nose as tears stream from your eyes while focusing on your breathing.

“Fuck, good girl taking papi all at once, baby,” he moans. You drag your mouth back up to the tip and repeat the motions, your pace slowly increasing as you bob your head.

The delicious taste of his salty precum makes your head spin as you toy with his balls, stimulating them as you slurp up and down his cock.

“Shit. Always suck my cock so fucking well, muñeca. Feels so fucking good,” Javier rasps, another pool of wetness grows in between your thighs at his praises. The rough carpet of the car’s interior chafes your knees, your skin burning as you suck him off, adding to your pleasure.

The sounds permeating the air in the car are obscene - slurping mixed with yours and Javier’s moans.

Your lipstick smears around your lips as his heavy length fills your mouth. Mascara smudges around your eyes, tears smearing into the mixture of saliva, lipstick, and cum that gathers around your lips. You gag around him, your throat contracting around his girthy, long cock.

“Fuck!” He yells, making a quick mental note to tip the driver even more.

“Squeeze your tits together, muñeca. Wanna cum all over those gorgeous tits, been teasing me all fucking night with them,” he snarls.

His cock still in your mouth, you breathe through your nose as you squeeze them together, creating a crevice in your cleavage. He pulls out of your mouth, a string of spit and precum hanging from your lips. Scooting forward and hanging off the seat, he braces his hands on your shoulders. He stuffs his cock in between your tits, rutting his hips into your chest. You moan wildly as he fucks your tits, your chest slick with cum and saliva.

“You wish I was fucking your tight little pussy like this, huh, baby?” He asks tauntingly as he pants.

“Yes, papi! Wish your big cock was stuffed inside me!” You wail beneath him, more tears streaming down your face.

“Well then you should’ve thought about that before acting like a brat. Should’ve just asked, you know papi will always give you what you want if you ask nicely,” he grunts.

“I’m sorry, papi, I know that,” you sob, pleasure burning in your belly as he thrusts into your chest.

“My little fuckin’ cockslut, mi putita sucia (my dirty little whore). Trying to get me to fuck her in front of my friends and my boss. That what you wanted, muñeca? Wanted them to see how well you take my fat cock, huh?” His words only fanning the flames of desire in your belly, fire roaring higher.

You nod mindlessly, desperate to seek some sort of relief. You’re tempted to reach between your thighs and touch yourself, but you know better than to do that without Javier’s permission.

“Words, muñeca, I’m not gonna tell you again,” he snarls as his thrusts grow sloppier in between your tits.

“Yes, papi! Want everyone to know how well you treat me.” A dark chuckle rumbling in Javier’s chest. “My dirty fuckin’ girl wanting everyone to see how I fill those pretty holes, you’d like that wouldn’t you, baby?”

“Mhmm, y-yes, papi.”

“Too bad I don’t like sharing what’s mine,” he grunts, punctuating his words with each thrust.

Hearing him claim you outloud will always drive you wild.

“I’m yours. All yours, papi,” you cry out, squeezing your tits together even harder, earning a guttural moan from Javier.

“That’s right, muñeca. Mine, you’re all mine,” he groans, cumming hard all over your tits, staining your dress as he makes a mess of you.

Endless moans stream from your lips as he coats your chest, some of his spend spurting onto his stomach and your lips. You eagerly lick up his spend from your lips, moaning as you slather your fingers in the cum that drips down your chest and suck them into your mouth, swallowing his salty, bitter taste. Diving down, you lick up every last drop of his load from his navel, he groans as he floats back to earth from his orgasm.

You squeeze your thighs together, your slick smearing against your skin. Clenching around nothing as you pathetically seek relief from the lacy thong you’re wearing as it catches against your clit. Javier harshly grabs you by the arms and lifts you off the floor, perching you atop his lap once more.

He ravishes your lips, kissing you hungrily as he tastes himself on your tongue. You moan into him as he sucks your tongue into his mouth.

“Did such a good job, princesa. Such a good girl for me,” his lips ghosting over yours. His timbre low and husky, full of lust, love, and admiration. He litters kisses all along your neck and nips at your chin, your meek moans like music to his ears.

Like putty in his hands, he’s got you right where he wants you.

The car rounds the corner of your shared home, the remainder of the ride feels agonizingly long as it slowly comes to a halt in the driveway. He presses soft kisses on the pulsepoint near your ear, his strong nose brushing against your hoop earrings as goosebumps trail along your skin.

“No te preocupes princesa. (Don’t worry, princess) I’ll take care of you once we’re home. I always take care of you, don’t I, muñeca?”

ya me puedo casar Javi. puedo cocinar y limpiar. la cena estará lista cuando llegues a la casa todas las días🧎‍♀️

where my Javi girlies/theylies at??? JAVI NATION MAKE SOME NOISEEE 🫡 shoutout to us fr

anyway, i hope y’all enjoyed! 🫶🏼

tag list: @mandoisapunk @tinygarbage @gracieheartspedro @undrthelights @jenispunk @persephone-girl @javierpena-inatacvest @daydreamingmiller @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin

#javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña #javi p #javier peña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fanfiction

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

Saviour

Pairing: Javier Peña x female reader.

Summary: Escobar's men kidnap and torture you because of your acquaintance to Javier. Could you ever heal from such brutality?

Word Count: 4k

Content Warning: kidnapping, torture, sexual assault, paranoia, flashbacks, ptsd. Typical narcos violence.

Note: If you or anyone you know has been a victim or assume please report it. Or you can call your local sexual assault hotline. You are NOT alone, and progress is not linear, you are strong, you have a life worth living. I am a victim of sexual assault; I liked the 10 years later concept as it’s been 10 years this year for me since I was sexually assaulted.

"Gracias," you offered the young waitress before you, as she put your and Javier coffee on the table in front of you. With your two freezing hands you cupped your hands around the boiling cup, grateful for some relief of the bite the cold kissing your fingers with. Even with a hoodie and track pants, you were freezing, it was meant to be a warm day, regardless, it was 6:00am. The sun barely visible on the horizon, buildings meet the sky before the sun. Javier, on the other hand, was in a simple yellow button up shirt, covered with a brown leather vest and jeans, how he wasn't shivering you never understood.

"Good coffee?" You asked meeting his eyes as he licked the coffee of his lips after a mouthful of his long black. You tried to stifle a smile as you watched him roll his eyes at you, "every morning it's the same y/n." Is his typical answer, today he decided to fuck with you. "Actually, think I'll try yours today." Before you could comprehend what he said he snatched your cup and took gulp, purposefully making a painstakingly loud slurping sound, sighing loudly as he put the near empty cup before you. You watched him in disbelief, finally lifting your slack jaw off the table, "unbelievable Peña, estúpido." Asshole.

You were met with a sly smile as you both stood, departing for the day, his hand rested on your shoulder as he shrugged, "sorry Hermosa." Beautiful. Your face lit up as if you were sitting next to a furnace, face red and feeling the full effect of his words. Just trying to get out of trouble, you think. "It's fine, you can make it up to me tomorrow morning, Peña." You walked together to the end of the street about to depart, the sun has slowly started rising above the tall buildings that previously stood in its way, some warmth fueling your body. "Actually, I wanted to invite you for dinner and drinks tonight. I could use the company."

Inside your head you were yelling with excitement, jumping into his arms and kissing him, accepting the offer graciously with a kiss shared between you. Snapping out of your imagination, you were met with expectant eyes and one of Javier's hands under your chin, hiding the worry he felt behind them. "Count me in, see you at 8?" You replied with a small smile. A boyish grin spread across his face as he started to walk down the hill away from you, "See you there Cariño." You couldn't hide the smile once you turned away, heading on your own work adventure for the day. What you failed to notice was two men watching the interaction between you that morning, watching you depart and follow you to work.

"Great job today everyone! Recuerda completar completar tu tarea.” Remember to complete your homework. A course of laughter from the class of teenagers, erupted as you dismissed them, waving them goodbye as they left the small building. Volunteering to teach undereducated locals living in poverty was your passion, it gave you an everlasting sense of pride that you get to help them, that you make a difference. You checked your watch as you gathered your paperwork to put into your desk for tomorrow's lesson, 6:00pm it reads. You still had time to get home, shower and make yourself look presentable for Javier.

Reaching into your back pockets, you retrieved your car keys, annoyingly they slip from your fingers, the lack of sunlight making it difficult to see, your bare fingertips grazing the found when, ah gotcha! You wrap your fingers around the key and bring it up to the door to unlock it-

You were suddenly gasping for air as a massive pressure situated around your throat, you started thrashing in a panic, only to bump into something-someone, you tried to scream only to have a dirty rag bought up to your mouth and covered your nose. Your vision was blurring and you were starting to see double of everything as black spots accompanied the already struggling eyesight to form a picture of your surroundings. Your keys and book bag dropped to the ground as you lost all strength to stay conscious. As you struggle to stay conscious the only thing on your mind was Javier, then darkness found you and consumed you fully.

Javier had waited until 8:30pm until he became frantic, ringing your mobile in hopes to contact you, with no luck, ringing Steve to see if he'd heard from you.

The candles on the table burning furiously, becoming more wax than there was candle left, the takeout on the table becoming stale in the cold air inside Javier's apartment, the cracked open wine, as a result of Javier's restlessness waiting for you to arrive. His mind plagued with thoughts.

Maybe you forgot, maybe you went home, maybe you were held back, maybe you're just NOT interested in being around him in your spare time.

But none of those thoughts made sense to Javier, you were exceptional with communicating to him and you were always on time, "if you weren't early you were late", you would always say. Which fulled Javier's panic, this being completely out of character, it being dark and late, not to mention he was in the middle of fighting a war with the narcos. The situation became dire as he realised he kept a tracker in your scrunchie you wore everyday. He told himself it was ‘just in case’ truthfully, it was because he wanted some peace of mind, thankfully it was practically a staple of your outfits, a weird thing he liked about you, you were consistent. Logging into his phone he began pacing as he checked your location, he tracked you to a part of town that had him on edge, only 2.5 miles from your apartment, this was an area swamped with men who worked for the narcos, hitmen, assassins, recruited child soldiers, they all accumulated in this area as to keep their heads out of the government radar. You knew the dangers of that area, he knew you wouldn't just wonder into that part of town, you were in danger, he knew it, felt it. He dialled Colonel Carrillo biting his fingernails as he stormed out of his apartment into his car. "It's urgent Carrillo, bring men with you, sending you the location now." He desperately spat out before Carrillo could get a word out.

Javier pulled up two streets over where Carrillo met him with three more of his men, men he-they could trust. “Y/n’s location lead me here, be prepared for violent retaliation. Entender?” Understood?

You had no idea how long you'd been held captive by these animals. The smell of smoke filled the air, filling your lungs of thick tar. Loud music blasting, their gleeful shrieks of joy and amusement when they realise you're awake, a coldness had your hands in its grasp as you realised you were in steel shackles, a thick line leading straight into the wall. Before you could take any more details in, scream filled the air, your screams. A burning sensation was all you could feel, your skin being victim to what felt like molten lava being poured over your body. The stiff ache from your body leaving you limp and weak, all you could do was blink. Your body felt numb after a few minutes of whatever they mutated your body with. You tried to hide inside of your head, desperate to escape reality and the world closing in around you, you just wanted it to end, you begged for death himself to take you away.

Your body was tossed around by a man whom you didn't get a good look at, only hearing his muffled voice cheering to the other men, "me saldre con la mía con esta puta." I'll have my way with this whore. The men cheered him on as he roughly inserted himself into you, sobbing silently was all you could muster, you had no strength, no fight left in you as this man ravishing you slapped your face and pulled your hair from behind.

You didn't notice the moment three men stormed into the door to your left, immediately firing shots at the perpetrators, leaving them dead within a matter of seconds. You didn't notice the man as he slumped behind you onto the floor, his body limp and lifeless behind you.

A shadow of a man approaching you had you curling into yourself, knowing you couldn't take much more of this brutality, sobbing and uncontrollable shaking, the urge to fall asleep and never wake up.

Suddenly two hands were on your face, cupping them around your cheeks and you cried out, "no more please." Javier found himself flinching at this, his heart being pulled into a million pieces at the state of you. "Y/n." You knew at that moment it was Javier, but you couldn't meet his eyes, shame and guilt filled your being as he found you like this, you lie there feeling completely helpless and alone.

"Te voy a sacar de aqui ok, lo prometo." I'm going to get you out of here ok, promise.

His eyes scanned your body and saw the injuries, nothing life threatening, but he knew this would take a much harder toll on you mentally. His vest was wrapped around your bare body quickly, swiftly picking you up into his arms and carrying you to his car.

Javier ran the warm cloth over your bare body, cleaning your wounds as you sat in the tub in his bathroom. The silence becoming too much for him, he had a million questions but knew it wouldn't be helpful, it would in fact be harmful to you right now. So, he decided to shove those thoughts to the back of his head and spend all his time into cleaning you up and taking care of you.

Once out of the bathtub, the mix of red water had run desperately down the drain. As Javier bandaged you up and applied rubbing alcohol which you barely flinched at, Javier was beginning to see how this would affect you mentally, the toll it had taken. The burn marks from cigars, the stab marks from a small utensil, what he couldn't figure, possibly a screwdriver. Red and purple bruises covered your back, face and legs. The physical marks would heal, the mental scarring would stay for life.

"You should eat, Hermosa." To his suggestion you barely shook your head, food not an option as you knew you couldn’t stomach it.

Javier was silent beside you as he led you to his bedroom, slightly messy and a chaotic tone to it, it was perfectly Javier. "You can stay with me Cariño, I'll be in the lounge room. You're safe now." You sat silently on the edge of the bed, hands in your lap and eyes finding your fingernails to fixate on, you finally spoke when Javier neared the doorway, "w-wait," your voice was meek and tears fell down your face, he turned around and rushed to you immediately, kneeling down to you, waiting for you, willing to do anything for you. "Stay, please, I don’t want to be alone. Need you.” His large hands, abnormally warm, caresses your face as tears fell down his own face, something you knew you would never see from Javier, probably ever. You'd never seen him cry until now, not in the 4 years you'd known him.

He lies down on one side of the bed, you finally lie down beside him, apart but pinkies touching, you needed him, you needed to know he was here, and you were safe. He obliged, he needed you to feel safe with him, a wave of relief washed over him as you curled your pinkie around his own, the small gesture meaning more than he could say to you right now.

He listened to your labored breathing wishing he could have done more, you tried to relax so that Javier could fall asleep, and after a few hours he did, as did you.

The smell of smoke was thick in your lungs, you frantically looked around for Javier and he was nowhere to be seen, only the sticky windows clad with newspaper and the laughter of the men who had hurt you surrounded you as they took times mutilating your body.

Javier woke immediately at the sound of your screams, something he knew it would come to haunt him, his hand automatically reaching for his pistol beside the bed, scanning the room for intruders, when he found none, he realized what was happening, and his face fell into a deep frown as tears welled in his lash line.

His hands held your shoulders as he gently shook you, your arms flailing as you woke up in horror, a familiar voice pulling you out of your fears.

"I've got you, Cariño.”

The familiar smell of Javier grounded you, his body against yours in seconds, his arms around you tight enough to know he's got you, but not hurting you. Your breathing matched his after minutes of feeling him, listening to his heartbeat, finally able to bring yourself back to reality. Javier was here with you, and you were safe.

After a few minutes of silence and Javier holding you, his breathing became shaky, debating in his head wondering he should tell you, but you deserved the truth, you deserved to know it was his fault this happened to you.

“Y/n.." Javier's uncertainty caught your attention, in this instance his eyes couldn't meet your own, filled with silent tears as they fell down his face. "It's my fault they attacked you... we received intel from one of our insiders, they attacked you because..." Javier choked back tears as the guilt ate him alive, your hand finding his own and holding it to your chest, encouraging him to continue.

"Because they thought we were together. They targeted you because of me, I'll never forgive myself."

You frowned and Javier looked at you, thinking the worst by the look on your face, thinking you blame him, you hate him because of this, not that he would blame you.

"Javi this isn't on you.. this could never be your fault." Your lip quivered as you took a shaky breath, "all I could think about was you, you kept me alive through it all. I love you Javier." His eyes searched yours as your lips met his, the kiss wet from both of your tears, it being the most passion you've both felt. You had each other, at least.

1 day after the attack...

Aroma filled the apartment, Javier cooked for you, you could easily say it wasn't a 5-star meal, but you appreciated the effort, nonetheless. You reluctantly took a few bites of food, your body rejecting it before you could swallow. In tears once again, "m sorry Javi." Javier helped you clean up and shook his head rejecting your apology, "no apologies from you, Hermosa."

Javier called the DEA and told them he would be taking time off, that in itself was a big deal for you, that didn’t go unappreciated. You felt safe with him around, when he was gone for only minutes at a time, you would be peering through curtain bangs peeking through the window, checking the doors are locked, hiding under the bed. Your paranoia seemed to overcome you and Javier not once lost his calm with you.

1 week after the attack...

Yes, it had taken you 1 week, 7 entire days of Javier begging you to be looked over by a doctor, someone he trusted personally to look over your wounds, a small infection from a cigar burn was treated immediately and the doctor left you with the ointment to treat it, 3 times a day every day. You were glad Javier fought for your health. You had nightmares, every single night since, sometimes multiple times a night, you for the most part wouldn’t allow him to touch you, he was okay with this. He was still helping you shower, apply ointment and keeping your mind busy by playing card games, baking your favorite muffins (complete fail) but ended in you both laughing a little. Things seemed to be getting better day by day.

1 month after the attack...

Your infection was completely healed, like most of the scars on your body had. The scars in your mind were still fresh, feeling like every day they were being ripped open as you still struggle with nightmares and occasional peering out of the window. You were finally beginning to hold down food and fruit smoothies, trying to get your weight back up to what it was beforehand, as you had lost quite a bit. You had started seeing a virtual therapist via videocall and it had seemed to be helpful as they’d diagnosed you with PTSD, they were helping you a lot, even giving you their personal number to text whenever you needed, day by day the weight on your shoulders seemed to feel less and less. Until you hear guns firing in the middle of the night and you’re sent straight into a panic attack, you flee straight under the bed and Javier is trying to pry you out for over half an hour, that night was filled with night terrors, being held by Javier and hot chocolates, watching movies till 3am.

1 year after the attack...

Javier had officially asked you to be his girlfriend, after his devotion to you and putting his life on hold for yours, how could you say no. He was terrified to say the least, he had learnt your favorite meal and made it from scratch, a few glasses of your favorite wine were essential for this date, for his nerves (and because you liked it). He was relieved when you accepted as if he didn't believe you'd been in love with him this entire time. He had asked you to dance, it was a slow song that crated an incredibly intimate moment between the two of you, no words needed to be spoken, you both could feel the love stewing between you, how the happier days were looking forward, how your eyes were brighter than they were at the beginning, he swore one day he would make you, his wife. You made love for the first time, he was slow, considerate, kept asking for your consent to continue, spent hours making you feel loved, searched your eyes for any doubt, regret or fear, but only found love.

5 years after the attack...

You both had moved to England after Javier surprised you with plane tickets, your bags already packed, he was hopeful you'd agree, both of you starting to start a new life together, hopefully easing some burden off your shoulders if you were out and away from where you'd attached your trauma. He knew you couldn’t heal properly if you were in the environment you were trying to heal from.

You'd moved to a small country house built of brick with a big meadow, after weeks of begging Javier had agreed that you should adopt a cat, a rescue called "mouse" he was a grey and white 3 year old that was missing one eye. You figured you could help each other through the troubles you'd been through, which you did, mouse came to trust you within weeks and you never felt alone with mouse lying on your chest every morning.

Javier would never admit it but he came to love mouse as much as you do.

He was so proud of you when you finally realised you were ready to tell your story to Javier, what happened that day. You both broke down and he blamed himself, a lot. But the next morning you both knew it would be easier to move on, you could talk about your trauma and Javier learnt to forgive himself.

8 years after the attack…

You couldn't help the tremble of your hand as you looked at the tiny + that appeared on the pregnancy test after minutes of waiting, your heart felt heavy and you wondered how Javier would react, he never mentioned wanting children. Maybe this would be the breaking point after all you've been through.

Javier found the test buried in the bin half sticking out and confronted you, he was absolutely terrified, you confirmed it and both started crying, he knew immediately he wanted to have this baby with you, he wanted to have a family, the whole works. Even though your bump wasn't visible, he knelt down and kissed your stomach, "I love you kid, you and your mama are my world."

He spent every night of your pregnancy talking to your growing baby up until she was born, Javier named her "Esperanza Peña." Hope. It was that same night your daughter was born that Javier proposed to you, he knew once his daughter was born he never wanted to leave either of you. He was a fantastic dad, he changed her nappies, sang and danced with her, let you sleep overnight to do the feeds. Cried with her when she was hurt, laughed when she giggled, loved her with his whole heart.

10 years after the attack...

Here you were, watching your daughter throwing flower petals down the isle, her brown hair bouncing on her shoulders, her pastel pink gown swaying in the gentle autumn breeze. Javier immediately softening his pose and his eyes swelling with tears and heart with pride seeing how much his daughter had grown in 2 years. He gave Esperanza a kiss and she joined your family that were seated. Your entrance song started playing, you walked down the isle clutching bouquet of flowers that consisted of whites, yellows and pinks, your fitted white dress dragging about 10 feet behind you, the sheer veil in front of your face keeping you partially hidden. The lace looked beautiful on your skin, your subtle make up and half up hairdo had Javier sobbing, his eyes watching you so intently, so full of love and warmth, the sparkle in his eyes had never left all these years. He loved you now more than ever.

Naturally there was no hesitation for you both to say “I do." With that you shared your first kiss as a married couple, surrounded by loved ones, family, friends.

During your honeymoon, which was spent on a private island all expenses paid, you had turned down a cocktail, which had Javier raising his eyebrows in confusion, expectant on an answer. You exhaled a shaky breath as you handed him the pregnancy test that read + positive. He had to stop himself from tackling you into the bed of the hotel that night. Tears of happiness and disbelief fell from his lash line. “Thank you for making me a father and a husband, Hermosa.” You smiled as you thought ‘thank you for not leaving me at the altar.’ You caressed his cheek lovingly and smiled, “thank you for being my saviour, hermoso.”

#pedro x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena fic #javier peña #narcos #javier x reader #angst #javier pena imagine #javier pena headcanon #javier pena x you

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loliwrites · 2 months

Text

September: Beast of Burden

part two of fountain of sorrow

⇢ pairing: javier peña x f!reader ⇢ rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni ⇢ chapter warnings/tags: set between s2 & s3, early/mid ‘90s, single mother [reader has a young daughter][child won’t play a massive role], SMUT, oral [m&f receiving], unprotected p in v sex, blink and you’ll miss it anal play, choking, hair pulling, brief cum eating, one single solitary spank, cigarettes [are bad for you], post-sex photos, terms of endearment [querida], female reader, no physical description, protective!javi, no use of y/n. ⇢ word count: 5.0k ⇢ series masterlist ⇢ a/n: javi fully in his slut era. but the slut to girl dad pipeline is impending ❤️

The final month of summer was punctuated by more than Labor Day and fading heat. This year was marked by the bruises of fresh hickeys on your neck and chest, and the scratches you’d carved down Javier’s back. Emphasized by the lazy mornings that followed; all strong black coffee and subdued yearnings for lust that never went unanswered. You had come to learn that the rumors that trickled through The Tack Room about him – the ones that hung heavy and muggy in the air, like the inside of your car, steaming up the windows – were all true. A good time guy. Hung like a horse. Insatiable. The best goddamn lay ever.

Truthfully, you hadn’t had the wherewithal to pay much attention to the rumors before sleeping with him. There wasn’t the time to. In a world consumed with a day job that led into a weekend job and virtually single handedly raising a child, you weren’t afforded to pay too close attention to the local gossip about the playboy man-child. It seemed every other woman in town was talking about it enough for the whole lot. And though you were certainly hearing of the whispers at The Tack Room, it still didn’t dawn on you to pay close attention. Javier Peña, despite being the son of a cherished and valued member of Laredo, didn’t have the same distinction. He’d come back into town like a hurricane, whipping up the wind and rain, leaving broken windows and hearts in his path. And hell, a guy willing to fill the early hours of your weekend mornings and not take up any of your other already limited free time, was welcome. Especially the guy who was giving you the orgasms all these other women were reminiscing about.

“I haven’t seen him. He keeps giving me excuses. Working on his dad’s ranch or something.”

The last bit of gossip you needed before clocking out that Friday night. A little dagger you could take and sink in between Javier’s ribs. Twist and turn, nicking arteries on the way. See, Javier could have any woman he so much breathed in the direction of. The line stretching through town seemed unending, all trying to get a glimpse of his attention. A glimmer of love for the night. What these women didn’t know, and why you only pursed your lips and smiled to yourself, was you knew why they weren’t hearing from him anymore. It hadn’t been intentional. There wasn’t some grand plan to get him off the market. In fact, there generally wasn’t too much meaningful conversation. But he spent most days of the week working in the sun, doing hard manual labor that was a far cry from his previous life in the DEA (not that he ever spoke about it to you), and his Friday night, Saturdays, and Sundays had been spent balls deep in you, knocking your head into the headboard. At least for the last month it had been.

You pushed through the heavy metal back door of The Tack Room and slung your purse over your shoulder. Hooking a left outside the door, the first thing you saw was the orange glow of his cigarette. The smoke wafted upward, curling around his nose and cheeks, obscuring the rest of his head like a shroud for the dead. He was leaned back against the brick wall in a relaxed posture. If only the women inside knew the man they were fawning over was just a handful of yards away from them. Better than that, you knew he had been for nearly an hour. While there wasn’t any intention in keeping him to yourself, you felt it important to know he was wrapped around your finger. And for him to know it, too.

“Thought you were quitting,” you smirked, plucking the cigarette out from between his fingers. You brought it up to your lips for a puff. When he stepped closer, you blew the smoke out in his direction.

“You too,” he snatched it back and set it back between his lips. “Also thought you said you were off at eleven.”

You didn’t need to look at a clock to know you were an hour late. Wrapped around your finger. “I like things that are bad for me. And I thought I was,”

Turning for your car, you heard his boots clicking on the pavement behind you. Always in tow. You didn’t have to look behind you to know he was taking one last, long puff from the cigarette, holding onto the smoke and nicotine; one last hit of this drug before moving onto the next. He threw it to the ground in front of him and smothered it out with his boot on his next step forward. He stood close behind you, waiting for you to unlock the car door. You turned on your heels once you pulled it open. Not much could be said for Javier’s virtues but once he had something, or rather someone, he wanted in his sights, his patience was unwavering.

He slung his forearm over the top of your car door. A slanted smirk crossing over his lips, eyes glinting in the moonlight. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the smug thoughts going through his head. For as much as you had him wrapped around your finger, he knew you were wrapped around his too. Not too many women turned down Javier fucking Peña.

“I’m exhausted so you better make it quick tonight,” you cocked your head to the side, giving your best attempt at disinterest, knowing it wasn’t very convincing.

The smirk on his face broadened, fully aware of your blatant lie. If he’d learned anything over the past month, it was that you were never too tired for him. Never told him no in four weeks. He raised his hand and caressed your chin between his thumb and index finger, “sure, querida.” Those deft fingers stroked down to its point before dropping back to his waist.

Well, shit. You were no better than all those other women in the bar. Reminiscing about his touch, knowing they’d melt with the gentlest of acts. The warmth that spread through your stomach, inching down to your most inner parts was a testament to that. Another unconvincing glare in his direction was the last thing you did before you ducked into your car. He shut the door behind you and took a step back when you all but peeled out of the parking lot, in a race back to your home. But he waited until you were out of sight before he reached into his back pocket, grabbed his carton of cigarettes, and pulled a new one from it. Took his time lighting the damn thing before he spun and made back for his car. If only you’d known the lengths he was going to, to make you wait.

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ ❖

As much as you figured Javi was ruining other men for you, you knew you were ruining other women for him. However long this lasted (his reputation was evidence enough that this wasn’t someone meant for long term monogamy), you were taking up as much of his free time as he was taking up yours. Cocooned in this false sense of security. Bathed in a rush of dopamine and oxytocin. The last five weekends had all gone pretty much the same. Only a little variation in the order of events… positions… the absolute filth Javi whispered in your ear.

“You like having this tight, little pussy filled up, huh?”

“Look at me when you come,”

“Can you feel it, querida? My cock all the way up here,”

That last one was paired with his large hand wrapping around your stomach, fingers pressing in just below your belly button. What was even more astonishing was that yes, you could.

The nights always started with some form of pleasure for you. Long makeout sessions that had once been lost to adolescence were renewed with fervor. Lingering touches over the expanse of your body. Heavy handed things that ensured you felt the weight of his fingers long after they’d moved on. Along with the rumors of his exploits here in Laredo, there’d also been rumblings of what he’d gotten up to in Colombia. Not the nature or details of his job. But the details of his… extracurricular activities. And every night you found yourself in bed with Javi, those rumors started to sound more and more plausible.

And after the makeout sessions, Javi always oh so willingly dragged his mouth lower; lips giving attention to the skin his fingers had previously been responsible for. Never had to ask. Never had to convince him. He’d work down your body until he got to the apex of your thighs which had already spread to accommodate him. Hook those arms around your legs. Clutch those hands around your hips. And without fail – every single time – he’d take a long, deep inhale through his nose before his mouth set forth. First with his tongue broad and flat to your clit, rolling over it to warm you up (as if you needed it) before he gently closed his lips around it. He never questioned it. Never searched your eyes for reassurance that he was doing it to your satisfaction. He knew he was. Probably perfecting the move for the past fifteen plus years. If there was ever any anxiety about whether or not he was doing it well, that all vanquished by the time he migrated down further, to your entrance, lips and tongue working together to keep you on edge. The squeaks and moans that left your lungs didn’t leave anything up for debate. Worse, more than once, you noted the smug smirk he wore when he heard the noises from you. Face buried deep between your legs, tongue lapping and probing for entrance, and that fucking smirk was still obvious.

Like every man, he wasn’t one to turn down a blowjob. His eyes always seemed to light up when you started to inch your way down to his manhood. Eyes affixed to each of your movements. The way you started with soft kisses to the head of his cock. Always followed up by the tracing of the crown with your tongue before you let your lips kiss down his shaft. You were willing to take this slow – far slower than he probably would’ve preferred – but given the sheer amount of women he’d been with, his stamina was something else entirely. Raising a child didn’t exactly allow you the time or opportunity to get your stamina to the same level. But he never rushed you. Never pushed on the back of your head and forced you to stay with him down your throat. His hands were always present somewhere. Brushing your hair away from your face so he had a better view of the way his cock filled your mouth. Holding your hair in a ponytail to help set a rhythm whenever you started to veer off the path. Cupped beneath your chin, praising you. Look at you, champ. That mouth feels amazing, querida.

Going down on you was a standard occurrence. Whether or not he did it until you climaxed depended on the night. Most nights he was happy to stay there as long as he needed. Sometimes it was all that happened. Over and over again until your body couldn’t take anymore. Until your hand shot down and pressed back on the top of his head, trying to get some reprieve. Sometimes you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you, and though you appreciated his dedication, had to beg him to give you what you needed. It was something you’d learned quickly about Javier: with enough begging with the right amount of eyelash batting and pouting, you could get him to do just about anything you wanted.

He was always slow with you to start. Never pressing too far too quickly. Always giving you the time to adjust to him; the cocky bastard knew genetics had heartily endowed him. Perhaps he did it just to get you to beg more. To fill you up. Harder. Deeper. And when he teased (or tortured) you enough and sunk fully into you, you always strained your ears for the sigh he released. It didn’t matter what position he had you in. There was always a steady exhale of pure contentment. A longing to remain just where he was, nestled deep in your heat. But he always managed to rile himself out of it. To get himself back on task. And only then would he allow himself to get lost in ecstasy. Tenderness wasn’t something you’d say was in Javi’s repertoire. Perhaps gentleness was reserved for someone else. He was there with one objective in mind: you get you both off. And if nothing else, Javier was very efficient at it.

On this night, like the others, he was quick hands and lips, and the pace he set once he was inside you made you really reconsider taking up a religion. You were face down on the bed, chest making contact with the mattress too. The only thing held up was your ass, thanks to Javier’s arm. Wrapped tightly around your hips to keep you up at an angle conducive for the debauchery he was committing. His other hand groped your fleshy backside, tugging and squeezing each time your anatomy fluttered around his length.

“Javi,” you whined breathlessly. Sweat beaded at your hairline, matting the strands to your face, making you feel even warmer.

He smiled to himself, thankful you weren’t in a position to see it. Normally that expression on him resulted in your hands flying at him to slap it off. “Yeah, querida,”

“You’re so good,”

“I know,” he grinned even harder to himself. And when that response had you pushing up on your arms to snap your gaze back to him, he released your ass and pushed your head back down to the mattress. Another smile passed over his lips; this one holding space for much more fondness. For he could get you, full of spice and vigor, to submit to him so easily. Willingly. “So good for me, querida. Get your hands back here, let me see how good you are.”

Without a moment of contemplation you reached back, more pressure on your chest and cheek as your hands went to obey him. Fingers latched onto your ass, replacing where his had just been, and you tugged softly to yourself, giving Javi the view he wanted. Unobstructed to watch his cock slide in and out of you, each thrust coating him a little bit more in your arousal and stretching you out. With his length filling one hole he set his thumb at the other. You choked on your breath at the feeling. Though he added no real pressure to push the digit in, there was just enough force that let you know he could.

“Javi, m’gonna…”

You were being hauled up to your knees before you could catch your bearings. One moment you’re face down on the mattress and the next you were pulled up, your back pressed tightly to his chest. Your head tilted back and rested on his shoulders. Javier wrapped one arm around your waist to hold you down on him while the other snaked up over your breasts until his fingers found purchase around your throat. He squeezed tightly, smirking at the noise you let out.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna come already,” he mocked, leaning in closer to nibble on your jaw. Knowing you were too blissed out to answer, he snapped his hips forward with a particularly hard thrust, “just like the way I fill you up, huh?”

Nodding wildly, digging your nails into his forearm around your waist was all you could manage for a moment before, “love it.”

He growled in your ear. “Yeah? Show me. Show me how much you love my cock,” he kept his pace steady despite his own breaths getting more labored. He wouldn’t be long behind you. “Come all over me, querida. Let me feel it,”

The command became your ultimate undoing. Your body shivered, tensed, and a cry tore through your throat. The muscles in your core squeezed and released his shaft in perfect rhythm, though it didn’t slow him at all. He fucked you through the orgasm that overtook you until you crumbled out of his arms and back to the bed. Javier followed you down, never fully slipping out of you before you were pinned between him and the bed. Each thrust forced a little more of your release out until you could feel the wetness it left behind each time your skin met his again.

“Javi,” you moaned with pure lust.

One of his hands planted on the bed beside you to give him enough space and leverage to keep up his ministrations, while the other went to the back of your head and grabbed a fistful of hair. He tugged your head back, catching the sexed out sight of you. Jaw slack, skin tacky with sweat. He almost lost it there without warning. Choked out a groan and furrowed his eyebrows as he held on for dear life.

“Fuck,” he spat. His game plan was to pull out and come over your ass. But then the feeling of your hand gripping into his hip, clutching into him and tugging to keep him forward on you, let him know you had other plans.

“Inside,” you gasped, pressing backward to keep your core as far down on his length as possible. “I want it inside,”

The muscles in his stomach and chest flexed. He bowed his head, “you’re gonna kill me.”

“Good,”

It was just one more snap forward. One last squeeze of your muscles to make the fit even tighter. He didn’t even have time to stick to his game plan even if he’d been so inclined. He buried himself as deep as he possibly could, coming inside you with an animalistic groan. Stuttered thrusts shot his load and then pumped it further into you. A bite landed on your neck as he finished, his length throbbing inside you, laying heavy. Still. The rest of his body laid heavy on you, too. Weight nearly suffocating on top of you, blocking out the rest of the world that wasn’t the feel of him and the scent of sex.

“Peña. Off,”

“Give me a goddamn second,” he huffed. There was no real anger or annoyance in his tone. Just the playful animosity for the use of his last name.

“I can’t breathe,”

“Got enough air to speak,” he exhaled. But he was quick to rouse when you clenched your core around his shaft, “okay, okay.” He backed himself up and looked down to watch as he pulled his length out of you, taking some of your shared release with him.

A whimper floated past your lips when he was completely unsheathed. The emptiness felt nearly unbearable. As if he could read your mind, he brought a hand to your center; nimble fingers collected the come that had leaked out of your spent hole. Then his middle and ring fingers pushed forward, spearing you yet again. Your legs shifted open to accommodate them. Another moan resulted from him curling the digits inside you, inching his come back inside you.

But his fingers left your gaping hole just as quickly as they’d entered it. And your eyes only opened from their comfortable rest when you felt his wet fingers on your lips. He was leaning over you again, eyes fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to obey him. You both knew you would. Keeping your gaze on him, you opened your mouth and wrapped your lips around his long, thick fingers. Tongue danced over them, licking away the come he’d collected. But he couldn’t let tenderness win, and instead of removing his fingers once you’d swallowed his offering, he pushed his fingers to the back of your mouth until you gagged on them.

You yanked on his wrist until he relented and pulled his fingers out of your mouth. “You’re an ass,”

He laughed and pushed himself off the bed. With a brief search, he located his boxer briefs and picked them up off the floor. But there was a pause. A moment where he just stood by the bed and stared at the form of your body. Stretched out on your stomach, laid out on display like some real-life work of art. But then you turned your head and spotted him, and all he could do was clear his throat and smack his hand down on your ass. “Best pussy I’ve had in awhile,”

You rolled your eyes and turned over just in time for him to throw his underwear at you before he left the room. Now left alone, with Javier walking naked through your home, you slid his underwear up your legs and settled the waistband around your hips. And as clothed as you were willing to get for now, you reached over for the nightstand and pulled the drawer open. Produced from it, the Polaroid camera.

Javier was already heading back down the hallway to your bedroom by the time you lifted the camera up and peered through the viewfinder. He had no time to conceal himself before you snapped the photo the moment he passed through the threshold. One hand held a glass of water up to his mouth. The other arm hung at his side. His manhood swinging between his legs. The photo printed and you set the camera aside. A disgruntled groan clued you in to the fact that he wasn’t particularly pleased you were taking another photo of him, but he no longer truly voiced his displeasure with it like he had the first time. For as much as the routine of your sex escapades became commonplace to you. This had become commonplace to him. Every single night you’d been together had resulted in you snapping at least one photo of him. Sometimes more, if you were lucky. Before sex, after sex… during sex. The collection you’d started of Javier Peña, DEA, would be something legends were made of.

He came back to bed and flopped down beside you, handing the glass of water over. You exchanged it for the new photo of him and took a sip of water while he admired the photo of himself. Never short on ego.

“What do you do with these?” He used the advantage of you having turned onto your side to set the glass on the nightstand to sidle up behind you. With his chest pressed tightly to your back, he held the photo out in front of you until you took it from him.

“I’m creating a mural in the women’s bathroom at The Tack Room,” then looking over your shoulder and offering him a wink, “the many faces of Javier Peña.”

“Don’t think anyone’s looking at my face,” his hold on your hip tightened.

You looked back at the photo – this one unfortunately had most of his face obscured by the glass of water. Feeling his teeth at the soft skin on your neck, you reached forward and tugged the nightstand drawer open again, “I am.”

He lifted his head again, but finding you’d already averted your gaze, followed the outstretch of your arm to where it dug through the drawer. It didn’t take long for you to find what you were looking for. It was placed in a spot all of its own; not mixed into the ever-growing pile of salacious portraits of him. “This one’s my favorite,” you rotated on your back and held the picture up so you could both gaze upon it.

You knew he’d question it. Going through the rolodex in your mind, you could pinpoint a handful of other pictures where he was objectively more handsome or more mysterious looking. Could think of any number where his manhood looked larger. Because this photo? It was simple. You’d left the room to retrieve the camera from your purse and had come back to him in this state. Snapped the picture before he could protest (like usual). And it was just so real.

Javi laid back on your bed, naked. A sheen of sweat over his face, neck, chest… hair skewed and wild. His member laid back against his stomach, no longer at its fully hard length, and he had one hand limply cupped over his balls. His other hand was splayed on his chest, fingers outstretched. Just prior to snapping the photo, you had noticed how he seemed zoned out. His eyes, unblinking and unfocused, staring off at nothing. Whatever he was seeing was no longer physically in front of him. You’d managed to get the photo in the same moment he looked up at you. His eyes, while now focused, were still heavy. Eyes that you had only ever seen as ravenously lust-filled, or overtly enigmatic, had given up their act. Forgotten they weren’t alone and had fallen to their true state.

“M’not even smilin’ in that one,”

“S’why I like it,” you glanced over at him for the quickest of acknowledgement before returning your attention back to the photo. You ran your fingertip over the photographed version of his face, “your eyes look sad.” He traded in answering for pursing his lips together and you twisted over again to set the photo back in its rightful place.

When you turned back, Javi was already getting out of bed. Done with his dutiful minutes of what could hardly be called cuddling, and was yet again looking for more of his clothes. You sat up too, familiar with this part of your dance. Rather impersonal sex, followed by rather impersonal and lackluster aftercare, completed by the awkwardness of him leaving though you knew you’d see him tomorrow night for the same song and dance.

“Can you do me a favor?” You asked, gaining confidence when he instantly looked at you, “if I ask you a question, can you answer me honestly?” He nodded, waited just a second before he snatched his jeans off the floor and worked them up his legs. The whole act caught you flustered. Those tight jeans worked up his thick thighs, over the swell of his ass. And the way they cradled his bulge… it had you salivating. “What’d you do for the DEA in South America?”

Javi sucked in a deep breath through his nose and held it. He wondered how much you’d overheard his dad share at different points… or how much his dad had blatantly told you. He adjusted himself in his jeans and then rested that hand on his hip. “Chased Pablo Escobar,”

It was a name you’d heard in the news here and there in mentions of the war on drugs. But all things considered, Pablo Escobar seemed like a character from fairy tales. His name, while known, held no bearing in Laredo.

“Did you catch him?”

“No,”

“Then why’d you come home?”

Javi ignored the question and bent back down to pick his shirt up off the floor. “That’s more than one question,”

“Then answer one more for me,” you cocked your head to the side. He flicked his eyes back to you. “Are you fucking me for information?”

He cocked his head to match yours, “do you have information?”

“No,”

“Then no, I’m not.” He slid his shirt over his hand. Eyebrows furrowed when he looked back at you, “what’d you hear?”

“Surprisingly not the moans of every prostitute in Colombia,” you snickered, though Javi looked less than impressed.

He shook his head and ran a hand over his mouth. “Look, every woman wants to know what I do– what I did for work, and truth is, it doesn’t matter. Not to this. And whatever you think you’ve heard,” he rounded the bed with shoes in hand and came up upon your side, making you feel smaller than you ever had before. “I paid those women for information, not for sex. The money was always exchanged afterward,”

“That doesn’t matter,”

“It does if you’re a prostitute,” he sat down on the edge of the bed and fiddled to put his shoes on.

You crawled up behind him and wrapped your arms over his shoulders. Buried your face in his neck and gave him soft kisses there. “I’m just trying to get to know you. You know, since you’re at my house every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night; the nights my kid’s conveniently with her grandmother, and you’re fucking me three ways to Sunday, so I just thought…”

“Well don’t,” he looked over his shoulder. The coldness of his gaze had you inching back off him. “Don’t complicate this by bringing up DEA stuff. I’m enjoying sleeping with you. I think you’re enjoying it, too. And I’d like to continue enjoying it with you instead of the other women in town… fuckin’ insufferable.”

“That’s not nice,” you tried to hide your grin. The other women were… rough. All hoping to get dicked down by the infamous Javier Peña but lacked all real substance.

“You think we can keep doing this without talking about Colombia?”

You nodded, relenting. He had his walls up. Tall, strong, and fortified. You figured they’d never been let down for anyone. Or worse… they had and it had gone terribly wrong. Javi pulled you out of your thoughts with a peck to your lips. Very noncommittal, and stood up from the bed, heading for your door.

“What time are you off tomorrow?”

Your eyes followed him, still reeling, “eleven.”

“Actually eleven, or are you lyin’ to me again?”

“Actually eleven,”

Satisfied, he turned his back to you and headed off down the hallway. You’d follow after him in a couple minutes, long after he was gone, to lock your front door again. But right now, he walked down the hallway alone, “see you tomorrow, querida.”

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