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wardenparker · 7 months

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Night of the Living Wish

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: The one that got away. Cursing, alcohol and alcohol consumption, self-doubt, Steve Murphy is Big Brother Energy, wish fulfillment, magic, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex in someone else's bed. Summary: Determined to put years of pining to an end, Steve and Connie invite you and Javier to their blow out Halloween costume party the year after returning from Colombia. With the help of some very special costumes, this party is set to be a night to remember. Notes: The first of two Spooky themed one-shots for our now-annual Spooktober celebration!

It took a while to get here, and you're not sure if you're slightly embarrassed about that or not. You've sent letters back and forth with Steve and racked up long distance bills calling Connie from California, but any kind of communication with your other partner in Texas has seemed like too big of a bridge to gap. That is, until you had gotten the card in the mail from the Murphys a month ago, inviting you out to Miami for Halloween weekend.

A big costume party with their friends is their excuse to invite you out to the east coast, and since you've just wrapped up a case pretty neatly, you don't feel bad about taking a few days off. You managed to find a costume shop on a side street while you were walking around the city earlier and deftly avoided having to settle for a murderous clown or anything involving a mask by finding a nymph costume in your size. Maybe a sexy costume wouldn't have been your first choice but it isn't bad, and now you're sitting in the back of a cab wrapped in your coat to avoid lewd comments from the driver on your way from the hotel down to the Murphy's house. It will be good to see Steve and Connie again. It will. Even if you're dreading not knowing if Javi will be there or not.

******

“A fucking Halloween party?” The drink in Javi’s hand doesn’t seem nearly stiff enough as he watches Connie bustle around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the trays of food to serve.

“You know you could help.” Steve huffs, work gloves on as he load a faux cauldron with dry ice in the center of the table in the living room.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Javi asks, smirking slightly as he holds out his arms. “In costume.”

“Hardly.” Connie rolls her eyes, albeit playfully. “You’re wearing your own clothes. Like that is an outfit you would just wear regularly. I had to ask if you even knew it was a costume party.”

“Hey….” Javi pouts and then pulls the glasses out of his pocket to open them up after setting down his drink. Making a show of putting them on. “Now.” He huffs. “Recognize me?”

“Manwhore Clark Kent.” Steve jokes as he swings through the living room making sure that all the decorations are in place. He even goes so far as to adjust the plastic spider in the white webbing over the kitchen door so it’s at the most optimum angle to creep someone out.

“Ah, no.” Javi points a finger at his old partner and then flips him the bird. “Life, uh, finds a way.” He quotes, having watched the movie more than a few times because he enjoyed it. Not because of this party.

Connie snorts, mostly at the impression, and takes a bite out of a carrot stick from the veggie platter before shaking her head at Javi fondly. “Jeff Goldblum is far sexier,” she teases. “And I still say that wearing your own clothes is cheating.”

He frowns, even though he loves Connie, it stings his pride that Jeff Goldblum is sexier. “Not everything is mine.” He protests. “The glasses and the fucking pimp necklace came from that costume shop.”

“Then I stand correction.” She was teasing just to make him pout, and now that she’s accomplished that goal she offers him a beaming grin instead. Messing with Javi is one of the delights missing from her life these days and she’s glad to see him. Steve is too, although he grumbles about it more. “You did very well, Jav. Excellent costume.”

“Thank you, Connie.” He scoops her up into his arms and kisses her cheek. “And you are a very sexy Queen Cleopatra.” He smirks. “Black hair looks good on you.”

“We thought it was a fun change of pace.” Steve - dressed as Marc Antony - throws his wife a wink. They had talked about doing a little Halloween-inspired role play and Connie wanted to change up her look a little just for fun. “No snakes though, baby. Those bad boys stay outside.”

“Really?” Javi grins. “You’d look really sexy with a big snake.” He teases, winking at her.

Undeterred, Connie just smiles. “That’s why I married Steve,” she tells Javi with a wink. “Biggest one I could possibly find.”

“That’s because you hadn’t met me yet.” Javi enjoys poking at Steve, watching the man huff and grumble under his breath. Not like he would admit to his wife that his partner had him beat in the dick measuring department.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Jav.” Connie laughs, only leaving the living room when the front door rings to go and open it. “Here we go!” She announces with glee. Whether it’s trick or treaters or party guests doesn’t matter. She’s just glad to have an active night tonight.

Javi picks up his drink again and takes a sip. It’s good to see the Murphy’s again. Especially since he wasn’t sure they would stay together the last time he had seen them. Swirling his ice around, he wonders if you are coming. Steve had told him that you were in California, but he hadn’t mentioned if you had been invited.

The door was a mix, and the sound of trick or treaters is quickly replaced with the first flood of party guests. Plenty of people that Javi doesn’t recognize all come into the house in a great wave of introductions, but there is one single recognizable voice right at the end. The high-pitched squealing isn’t enough on its own, but it’s very distinctly your voice that exclaims: “Oh my god, you look gorgeous!”

Javi swallows slightly, lifting his glass to his lips to down the rest of his whiskey. The sound of your voice bringing back the next to last time he saw you. An image he had thought about more than a few times over the past year. How close he had come to crossing that line with you. Looking towards the door, he sees your arms flung around Connie and your head covered in some kind of twisty crown thing made of plastic that looks like sticks and flowers.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You’re practically in tears over it, honestly, having missed your best friend dearly since she left Colombia ahead of her husband. That was a rough time and everyone was glad to see the hard portion of the Murphy’s road smooth out in time.

“I keep telling you to trade California beaches for Miami beaches.” Connie squeezes you once more before she pulls back to look at you. “Okay…what are you with the coat?”

“I didn’t want to give the cab driver an eye full,” you admit, and easily take off the long rain jacket that you had been covering yourself with. The ‘nymph’ costume is skimpy but not overly so, just very obvious about highlighting your tits and the skirt is hiked up to halfway up one thigh…because they can? You don’t quite understand it. It’s definitely not historically correct Greek clothing.

“Hot damn, mama.” Connie whistles. “Don’t you look sexy? Steve, doesn’t she look sexy?” Turning her head towards her husband, she grins when she sees Javi nearly choke on his own spit.

“I know you said costumes from your own clothing are cheating so I—” Already halfway out a justification for the choice, you freeze in the doorway to the living room when you see “Javi?”

“Hey, muñequita.” Javi shoots you a small grin. “Been a long time.” He shuffles forward and wraps his arm around you, still holding his empty glass. “How have you been?”

“Good.” Even a measly hug shouldn’t feel this good, but you tell yourself that it’s reasonable to miss your friends after not seeing them for so long. That it has nothing to do with what almost happened. “Busy. I’ve been busy. Just wrapped another case. How’s Texas?”

“Slow.” He rolls his eyes but he can’t deny that he’s a hell of a lot less stressed on the ranch. “Meant to call you, but by the time you’re off work, Pop is snoring in his chair and I’m wiped out.” It’s a lame excuse for why he could never pick up the phone to hear your voice, but it’s the one he will use.

“It’s fine.” You had assumed that his interest in you had waned, not being in the same place anymore, and tried not to take it too hard. Or too personally. “I was just undercover for six months anyway…”

“Really?” Immediately Javi frowns, not liking the sound of that. Undercover work is dangerous and he doesn’t know your partners now.

“Traffickers.” You shrug like it doesn’t matter because honestly? You had a hell of a lot worse in Colombia. “No big deal, it took a while to get in where I needed to be.”

“You got out clean.” His brows raise seriously. Despite the fact he hasn’t seen you in a year, he hates the way that his stomach rolls at the idea of you being undercover without him watching out for you.

“I’m fine, Jav. No knight in shining armour shit this time.” Not like last time. When he’d had to rescue you from an undercover stint under the guise of a sting. That was…ugly.

He doesn’t like it, but he trusts you. Knowing you wouldn’t lie to him about that. “Good.” He grunts and bites his lip. “Drink?”

"Fuck yes." You can't help but laugh at the offer. "I spent the entire cab ride fending off the driver. I deserve it."

“Wearing that, I’m not surprised.” He’s never seen so much skin on you, unless you count the night he was pulling off your- no. He can’t think about that. He wouldn’t survive tonight if he started thinking about that.

“I had a coat on,” you defend, knowing that you had worn one for exactly that reason. Some men just can’t help themselves. They have to comment — or worse. “But now you owe me a fancy drink,” you insist, falling back on your old habit of teasing Javi. “You can’t bust me about my costume when you showed up in your own clothes.”

“I didn’t show up on my own clothes.” He pouts as you obviously don’t recognize the genius behind his costume.

“You totally did.” The shake of your head is amused, though, and you nudge him toward the counter beside the kitchen where the Murphy’s have set up a bar. “I saw Jurassic Park, Jav. Just because you own the same clothes as Ian Malcolm doesn’t mean it’s a costume.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t wear these stupid glasses.” He reminds you. “Or wear a chain. Or a bracelet.” He holds up his wrist as proof.

“You bought accessories.” The grin you flash at his pouty annoyance is genuine and you grab a bottle of rum to shake in his direction. “Please, Jav?” You give him your best innocent eyes when she crosses his arms at you and motion to the whole bar of ingredients and mixers. “You make way better mojitos than I do.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs, but he snatches the bottle from you. “You can never make a decent drink, muñequita.” He teases you.

“Maybe not.” It’s so easy to fall back into old patterns with him. The teasing and natural flirting that you never even realized you were doing until Murphy had called you on it one night in a stake out. “But I open a mean beer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a necessary skill to have.” He smirks. Almost about to say something sexist but he knows you will punch him. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. See if Connie has some mint leaves.”

“I guarantee she does, because you’re here.” The only person who loves Javi’s mojitos more than you is Connie, so you are more than certain that she is prepared. “So what have you been up to?” Even a small lull in conversation is too much for you to consider, and you aim for small talk instead.

“Nothing but fixing fences and trying to keep my pop from killing himself.” Javi snorts, guiding you into the kitchen and over to the bar so he can make your mojitos.

“It must be nice to see him again.” At least you hope it is. You’d hate to think Javi’s been unhappy. Regardless of whatever did or did not end up happening between you, he was still your partner.

“Of course it is.” Javi moves with sure hands. Eyeballing the measurements and looking up at you. “Have you been liking California?”

“Sun, surf, and beautiful people. What’s not to like?” That’s what you keep telling yourself when you miss your friends — and Javi — during your day-to-day life. That there’s no reason not to enjoy California. But the truth is that you’re lonely despite being surrounded by people constantly.

“It’s too bright, the salt is shit and people are assholes.” Javi grunts, even though he wouldn’t mind going to see you on a beach.

“Well I guess I won’t invite you to visit, then.” You would have been too nervous to offer anyway, but at least this way it’s about teasing and you can hide that you’re a little disappointed about it.

Javi frowns, hearing the hurt in your voice and he doesn’t know what to say. “I wouldn’t mind it.” He confesses. “Women in thong bikinis are never a bad thing.” He wonders if you have one and if you wear it to the beach. Reminding him of when he was pulling- no. He can’t think about that.

“Then Miami will be perfect for you.” If all he cares about is ogling women in bikinis? He can stay right here in Florida for that. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skirt chasing by actually wanting to see you.”

He frowns even more, obviously having put his foot in his mouth again. “Muñequita….” He sighs and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“It’s fine.” You promise him, trying to act breezy when he hands you your drink and your fingers brush by accident. Sparks are not breezy, but you’re certain they’re one sided. “I shouldn’t have presumed. Anyway, um…thanks. For the drink.”

“No--" Javi is tired of the missed communication between the two of you. “I’d want to see your bikini.” He admits. Feeling bolder than normal around you. It’s easy with women he doesn’t care about. Respect, sure. He respects all women, but he cares about you. “Been trying to not think about those panties I had in my hand when the phone rang a year ago.”

“Oh.” That hadn’t been what you expected to hear in response, so when you pause it’s with your mouth half open and the glass at your chin. “I…” You’ve thought about that night every single day since, and it hasn’t gotten any easier to stomach the memory. “I wish I hadn’t picked up,” you confess quietly, setting the glass down again.

“Just would have fucking called again.” Javi snorts. “I was going home, one way or another.” He pours himself another whiskey. “Just glad I didn’t drag you two down with me.”

It was supposed to be a game. Javi had told you to pick up the phone with fire in his eyes, intent on making you cum while you carried on a conversation with whoever was on the other end. Thankfully in the end you had been able to convince the ambassador that you were only at Javi’s place for a post-work drink and you hadn’t been kicked off the case. “No…no, we finished it…” you sigh, knowing it should have been Javi to take the bastard down.

“Proud of you for that.” Javi tells you. “Watched every day news report when it came out. Even kept the paper that had your pictures in it.”

“It should’ve been you.” That has always been the private consensus between you and Steve. It should have been Javi on that roof with you.

“I fucked up.” That will never be something that he tries to shift blame on. He knew he was playing with fire. When he got burned, he accepted it. “I would have been there if I could. But it doesn’t take away from what you did.”

“We finished what you started.” For you it’s as simple as that, and you finally take a drink after shrugging your shoulders. “Fuuuck that’s good. I missed having my own personal bartender.”

He snorts and takes another sip of his own drink. Preferring to keep his own simple, he did enjoy making cocktails for you and Connie. Ignoring the way that Steve had teased him about a secret desire to be a bartender. “Glad you enjoy it. You’ll be hammered in no time.” He teases.

“Maybe I won’t mind the cabbie hitting on me all the way back to the hotel,” you snort, taking another long sip of the drink. Though you might wish that night a year ago had gone differently, it didn’t. You and Javi never got to take that next step, and now you probably never will.

Javi glowers, mumbling under his breath about that being bullshit as he takes another drink. Ten minutes with you and he’s already feeling possessive.

“Is it?” That’s news to you, but at least it’s not you and you alone who’s still sore about what happened between you.

His dark eyes slide over to you and he stares at you for a moment. “You want to be hit on by some cabbie?”

“No.” The way he’s looking at you makes you feel positively fucking naked, and not in a sexy way. Like Javi’s once again figured out how to look into your soul. “But if I was drunk I might not mind as much. Sometimes empty compliments are nice.”

“Empty compliments are just that, empty.” Javi steps closer to you, the ice in his glass clinking together. “You deserve real compliments.”

“Those have been pretty hard to come by over the last year.” Which is probably for the best, if you're honest. You’ve focused on work and enjoyed the photos of your sister’s family up in Oregon when she sends them every few weeks. In return, you send your niece and nephew goodies from California in a monthly care package. It was tough being undercover now that you have that relationship back. But it’s been tougher missing Javi. “One guy I knew used to give them out like candy. I never knew he meant them until it was almost too late.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Javi snorts, shrugging slightly. “Most guys are when they realize they aren’t good enough for what they want.”

“Oh, bullshit.” You roll your eyes at him. “You were the single most sought after bachelor in the whole damn country. Nobody was out of reach.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to fuck someone and be with someone.” He murmurs quietly. “A big difference. Finding out you aren’t worthy of a woman is a humbling thing.”

Having been sipping steadily at your drink this whole time, you stop when you realize what he’s saying and put the empty glass down on the counter. “So it wouldn’t have just been a fling?” That question has itched at you for ages, and having an answer for it is both relieving and disappointing. Knowing you were moments away from having him - all of him - makes you wish all over again that you could have not picked up that phone.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Javi doesn’t give you an answer, aware that despite everything, you never reached out to him either. You had been the one to immediately promise to be there and start putting your clothes back on. Obviously regretting what was about to happen. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Sure. Right. Why would it?” Instantly you wish the glass was full again, and you groan internally. This is the guy you’re still hung up on? Really? The least emotionally available man in all of the Americas and he is the one your heart is set on. What a joke — and it’s entirely on you.

He’s still a little bitter that every time a call was for him, it wasn’t you. It was Steve. “Yeah.” He drains his glass and sighs. “Gonna go back out there.”

“Awesome.” You’re gonna go pour more rum in your glass and hope there’s still flavour left in the sugar-muddled mint, then see if any of Connie’s friends are hot. After the left turn your conversation with Javi just took, you could use a couple of empty compliments just to feel human again.

The fact that the conversation went right where he wanted it to and then took a hard left turn pisses him off. His jaw clenched as he walks back into the room, he considers leaving. He doesn’t want to watch you get plastered and giggly. Especially wearing that little costume you’ve got on.

“There you are.” Steve Murphy’s large, pale hand claps down on Javi’s shoulder just as he’s considering running, and he smiles as jovially as always. “Thought you’d gone extinct on us,” he jokes, immediately laughing at his own bad reference.

“I’m gonna head out.” Javi tells his old partner. He doesn’t want to get in the way of your good time and he doesn’t want to remember what almost happened a year ago.

“Noooo. No, you’re not.” Fixing him with a stern look, Steve crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside Javi. “What happened? You guys were hitting it off again. There were practically sparklers going off.”

“Same shit.” Javi shrugs. “She’s not gonna have a good time while I’m here. I’ll just- swing by tomorrow.”

“She asks about you every time we talk,” Steve offers, his expression softening measurably. “She mentioned you at least twice a day every single day we were still in that shit hole. That woman is deeply in love with you and Connie set this whole thing up to get you two in the same room again.”

“Except I pay her compliments and she thinks I’m blowing smoke up her ass.” Javi grumbles. “Takes every fucking thing I say out of context.”

“Maybe be a little more forthcoming this time?” Like a cosmic big brother, Steve is ready and willing to give advice even when unsolicited. “I know you gave her the bullshit about not being good enough for her.”

“It’s fucking true.” Javi snorts. “I fucking got kicked out of Colombia, remember?”

“You’re missing the point, Peña.” Steve shakes his head in exasperation. “You don’t get to decide if you’re good enough for her or not. Only she does. So stop throwing yourself a goddamn pity party and actually let her have a say in her life.” When he shrugs again, he’s smirking. “If you still love her, I mean.”

“Pendejo.” Javi hisses, hating how raw that single comment makes him feel. “Fuck you for that.” He shakes his head and turns around to stomp back into the kitchen.

When Javi reappears you're standing by the fridge, forced into polite chitchat with a couple that Connie works with at the hospital because they came into the room while you were staring at the photo of you, Steve, Javi, and Connie from a rare night off in Colombia. They have it pinned to the fridge with a magnet and you were standing there mooning over Javi's arm being around your waist when you got ambushed by extroverts.

Javi doesn’t comment on the way that the couple are set on either side of you. Walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. Hating that things have gotten so complicated. He had meant to apologize, to explain why he hadn’t called, but he had managed to piss you off.

The best you can do is hope to catch his eye across the kitchen while one of Connie's fellow nurses talks at you about whatever soap opera she's been watching lately that you mistakenly admitted to recognizing the name of. You desperately need a rescue but can't even get a word in edgewise to excuse yourself from the deluge.

He isn’t going to look over at you. He had promised himself that he would leave you alone. Despite what Steve said, you had made your feelings clear. So he’s berating himself when he glances over to find you giving every ‘get me out of here’ signal you can give. “Hey baby, there you are.” Javi hums, walking towards you to save the day.

It doesn’t even matter that he’s playing the fake boyfriend card, although that does make your heart ache a little. You’re just grateful to be able to use the moment as an excuse to break away from the droning soap opera fan for a minute. “I was just getting to know some of Connie’s coworkers,” you explain, gladly and easily welcoming him into your side with an arm around his waist when he strides over.

“Don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” Even though he’s giving an apologetic look, he’s already turning you away. Never one to really be all that nice unless he wants something with strangers and they don’t look like people he would want anything from.

"Awe, of course not." Even thought the woman who has been talking at you looks disappointed, she smiles sweetly. "She'd been looking at that picture of you guys and now I see why. Missin' her fella."

“Yeah.” He doesn’t comment further, just pulling you close as he guides you away. “Were they as bad as I think they were?” He asks quietly as you both walk out of the kitchen.

“Honestly? I think I blacked out for a second there.” Your laugh is relieved, though, and you have to swallow the sigh that wants to bubble out of you at having him close again. “Thanks for the rescue. I guess I do still need the occasional knight in shining armor moment.”

“It looked painful when I saw you.” Javi admits. His fingers dig into your hip slightly. “And I’ll come to your rescue whenever you want.”

Face to face with him again, you feel that knot of guilt twist in your stomach again and swallow a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you murmur, when the two of you come to a stop against one wall of the crowded living room. “I should have.”

“It was better that you didn’t.” Javi tells you. “For your career. You don’t want to be associated with me. My name is dirt.”

“I don’t actually give a shit,” you tell him with a shrug, leaning against the wall and a little against his side. “If nothing else…even if nothing had happened? I still care about you. And I should have called.”

“I picked up the phone a dozen times.” He admits quietly.

“We’re such a fuckin’ mess.” Laughing at yourself makes it slightly better, even if the whole situation still makes you ache.

“Cautious.” Javi prefers that. “We know how hard it is to be in a relationship with our - your - job.” He reminds you, nodding towards the living room. “Almost broke up the best damn couple I know.”

His hand is still at your waist, his shoulder firm beside your head, and lean into him that much more without even meaning to. “Does that mean it’s not worth trying?” You ask, actually voicing the question that’s been in your mind for longer than you came to admit.

“I never said that.” He mumbles, turning and staring at you somberly. While he might think that you deserve better and shouldn’t get involved with him, he respects you enough to let you chose your own path.

“I…kinda hate California,” you admit quietly, although a smirk has reached your lips. “I know that’s sacrilegious and everybody’s supposed to love LA, but I…asked to be transferred out of Graceland.”

“Where are you planning on going, muñequita?” He asks, his thumb rubbing your side as he continues to hold you close.

“I’m not sure yet.” Between his warmth and more than a little bit of rum, you feel soft and as best to relaxed as a government agent ever gets. “Gonna stay on the border to stay most helpful, I know that for sure.” You bite the corner of your mouth and look up at him. “I was thinking…maybe Texas.”

“Yeah?” Javi’s brow shoots up and he looks over at you. “Any reason why?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

"Depends." You could swear there is hope in his eyes, and it twists your stomach like a knot. "If I tell you the truth are you gonna deflect or are you gonna accept it?"

“All things are plausible with Chaos Theory.” Javi changes his voice to sound like Ian Malcom and shoots you a grin.

"Jav--" Despite snorting a laugh at the dead-on impression, you shake your head. "I'm serious."

“You’ve already done it.” Javi rationalizes. “So tell me why you did.”

Suddenly the reasoning seems so small. It isn't the grand romantic gesture that you imagined when you had signed your transfer request, it's awkward and presumptuous and full proof that you got in over your head with him. Like that first kiss you shared broke the seal on your reasonable thinking or something. "Because..." A slight shiver shakes through you and you know it's just nerves but it's fucking embarrassing, so your voice drops to even lower and quieter than before. "--I still love you."

The confession hits Javi square in the chest, warming him inside and out. Especially sweet because you know of his past, you were there while he was living it out. “That’s good.” He murmurs, his lips curling up. “At least we will both get the ‘I told you so’ from Steve and Connie.”

"How so?" Javi has dozens of quirks to his smiles, and this one is equal parts pleased and full to the brim with mischief. This is the Javi who dragged you out to a club in the middle of Medellín to dance the stress out. The Javi who picked your apartment door's lock to be waiting there with a bottle of whiskey and a container of soup the one and only day you were too knock-down drag-out sick to function at work.

“You don’t think that this isn’t a grand scheme to get us together?” Javi asks, smirking as he looks around the party. “I bet that they have a bet going on how long it will take for us to disappear.”

"They didn't even tell me you were coming," you point out, amused at the idea of your friends plotting for you, but not entirely convinced. "For the record, I would have found a much skimpier costume if I had known you were coming."

“How much fucking skimpier could you go?” He asks, sliding his hand down about five inches to the edge of your hem.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The smirk on your lips is borderline evil, but his hand on you makes you feel daring.

“Shit.” He hisses between his teeth. “Good fucking thing I’m not carrying a gun right now. I’d kill the fucker that tried touching you.”

"That's awfully territorial of you, Peña." Especially since you've spilled your guts to him and he hasn't said how he feels one way or the other, but you're not trying to get a marriage proposal or anything crazy.

“I’ve always been protective.” He reminds you. Leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours. “Especially those I love.”

"Yeah?" It would only take about a half a tilt of your head to kiss him like this, but you know once you cross that line again - at least tonight - you're not going to be able to stop yourself. And the Murphy's living room floor in the middle of a party of people isn't exactly where or how you dreamed of finally being able to be with Javi for the first time.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, sighing softly. “Muñequita.” He begins, stopping and smiling. “Do you know why I called you that all this time?”

"Because I'm adorable like a little doll?" Honestly, you had never bothered to ask, just accepting the term of endearment at face value and reveling in any small bit of intimacy you could grasp between the two of you.

“My pop used to call my mom that.” He admits quietly. “His ‘poppet’.”

“Javi…” He so rarely talks about his mother that you never could have known, and you all but melt against him right there and then. “That’s—its so sweet, I almost can’t stand it.”

“They were sweet.” Javi chuckles. “Pop is a hardass. Gruff, stoic, but ma? She was his poppet, his muñequita, and he loved her until the day she died.” He shrugs. “Loves her now. And she’s been gone for fifteen years.”

“Sounds like a love story worth aspiring to.” Somehow your hand has ended up in his at your side, and you tangle your fingers together experimentally only to feel them slide into place with ease as he lets you in.

“When you arrived and I got to know you,” he sighs. “It just seemed natural.” He knows that he holds a lot back, that he doesn’t talk but it’s hard to articulate.

“I was so sure you hated me for like the first few months I was in Colombia.” Javi’s standoffish behaviour and gruff comments hadn’t exactly read as friendly, but slowly you realized that that was just him. And once you understood that it was a hell of a lot easier to let things roll off your back.

“Never hated you. Wanted to fuck you.” He admits easily. He’s a man who enjoys sex and engaged in it as often as he could. Of course the pretty new agent coming in would catch his attention.

“Yeah that wasn’t how it came off at all,” you snort, able to laugh about it now that years have passed and so much has changed.

“It wasn’t supposed to come off that way.” Javi admits. “Didn’t want those assholes in the office to think that you were less than a top tier agent.” He knows the reputation he had crafted down in Colombia, and he knows what it could have done to your own reputation if he had shown interest. So he had kept his distance.

“More knight in shining armor behavior?” You tease, knowing that it isn’t quite the same.

“Self preservation.” He snorts. “They’d make a crack about what position they wanted to put you in, I’d be in the ambassador’s office for shoving a gun up their ass.”

“You probably shouldn’t be around the guys in the LA office, then.” It’s part of being a working woman in a field that’s considered for men, and you knew that going in. You ignore the comments and do your work, making sure to keep your nose clean and your paperwork immaculate. But the comments get made all the same.

“Assholes.” Javi rolls his eyes. “I fucked a lot, but how often did I talk about it?”

“You didn’t need to.” The smirk on your face says it all. “We all saw the secretary’s faces the next day.”

“Still didn’t brag.”

“No, you didn’t.” You have to agree to that. Javi may be an absolute rake, but he’s a respectful one.

“So what do we do now?” Javi asks, feeling like he is in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how you really want to do this, or what exactly you want from him.

“Hell if I know.” There is a nervousness through both of you that would be a lot more nerve wracking if you weren’t both scared. At least that puts you in equal footing. “I feel like we’re a hell of a lot better at cracking jokes and deflecting than we are at talking through shit.”

“Why would we talk about feelings?” Javi scoffs playfully. “Right now, I think you need another mojito.”

“Trying to get me drunk, Peña?” Even teasing him, you still lean into his side and let him lead you back toward the kitchen. The door to that conversation is open for later, and maybe you actually won’t be too afraid to have it now. But for right now? It’s a party. And he’s right — you need another mojito.

“So I got this amulet at the cutest little costume shop.” The wife out of the couple has picked out another victim as she holds up her necklace. “The shop owner was kidding, but he told me that I could have my greatest desire if I just wished it!”

“Oh my god!” Gasps the woman she is now talking to, who clearly is completely on board with the story. “What would you even wish for?”

“Right now?” She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know? A pizza? Yeah. I wish for a pizza.”

You roll your eyes discreetly at Javi and happily let him lead you over to the bar, but it does strike you as a fantastic coincidence when the door bell rings mere seconds later and you hear “Pizza delivery!” Called out from the front porch of Steve and Connie’s house.

“Who ordered pizza?” Steve calls out as he rushes towards the door. He hadn’t ordered it, but even if it was kids playing a prank, pizza sounds amazing right now.

The two women wander out of the kitchen looking bewildered and you throw Javi a smirk. “Weird ass coincidence.”

“That is a weird ass coincidence.” Javi muses. “Unless she ordered the pizza.”

“Already that drunk so early in the night?” You snicker softly. “That’s how you know it’s a good party.”

“Or to make whatever gullible sap she got her hooks in believe that wish thing.” He huffs.

"You don't believe in wishes?" The pout you throw him is adorable as he rolls his eyes at you and takes your glass to make you a new drink.

“I’ll believe it when shit like that actually works.” He grumbles as he starts to mix another mojito.

"Maybe if you wish out loud like she did, it will work." His generally disgruntled self makes you sunny, and that contrast has always been one of the thing that amused you about how you and Javi work together.

“Yeah?” Javi snorts in amusement as he looks up at you with an arched eyebrow. “I wish you’d show me your tits.” He teases.

There's no one in the kitchen with you, and that's the key. You quickly look around to make sure that no one is even by the door, and when you can see that everyone is at least six feet away with their back to the kitchen you slide the wide straps of your dress down your shoulders to expose your breasts -- all the while keeping one watchful eye on the other partygoers and the other on Javi.

He damn near drops the glass, he’s so shocked that you’ve flashed your tits at him. Mouth hanging open even after you’re pulling your dress back up. “You—”

"What?" You giggle evilly, tucking yourself back into your dress before anybody else can see. "I made your wish come true."

“Muñequita.” He breathes, shaking his head. “That’s cheating. The real wish would have been true if somehow your dress had ripped outside of your control.”

The crackling in the air is unexpected, but definitely not more expected than the tearing of fabric that happens immediately after. The seams rip haphazardly but they give way all at once, splitting your dress in half and exposing the skimpy lingerie you managed to wiggle into underneath. It happens too fast to react right away, but a second later you gasp and are too stunned to even think of covering yourself.

“Santa mierda.” Not particularly religious, Javi’s eyes are immediately looking up and then around to see if there is something that could have caused that. “I—”

"What the hell?!" When your hands finally catch up to your mind, you pull the shredded edges of your dress together with wide eyes. The effort to cover yourself is slightly in vain, though. It was a very skimpy dress.

“I didn’t- what the fuck just happened?” Javi demands, even as he’s moving towards you and reaching for the edges of your dress.

"Beats the fuck out of me, but I definitely need something else to wear now." If you weren't so confused you would probably be laughing your ass off. Standing in the Murphy's kitchen is not how you imagined your dress getting torn open with Javi pressed against you.

“What do you want to wear?” Javi moves so he is blocking your body from view if anyone comes in. “We can go get something out of Connie and Steve’s room.”

"I'll go grab one of Connie's old dresses if you just go and tell her what happened." How he'll possibly manage to explain it is beyond you, but right now you're more focused on remembering the layout of the Murphy's little ranch house so you don't stumble into Olivia's room instead of finding your way to Connie's closet.

Javi shakes his head, thankful that there is another door leading out into the hallway for you to try to keep from being seen. He heads out towards the living room and over towards the costumed Cleopatra. “Hey, Con, uh….so muñequita’s dress ripped and she’s gonna borrow something out of your closet. That’s okay, right?”

“What?” Connie turns around to find Javi’s face full of confusion and maybe even concern. “Yeah, of course it is! What happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” He admits. “It just…ripped apart.” She’s giving him a look that doubts what he’s saying, but how does he explain this without sounding completely crazy. “I told her that my wish would be for her dress to rip open and it just…did.”

The dubious expression on Connie’s face is obvious, and she raises one eyebrow. “Like…magic?”

“Like fucking magic.” Javi huffs, knowing it sounds crazy.

Dubiousness goes to skepticism and Connie snorts. “You got hands in the kitchen and ripped her costume? It’s fine, Javi. But now Steve owes me a fancy dinner out.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t fucking touch her.” He knows she won’t believe him, but he’s still trying to sort out exactly what had happened.

“Jav, it’s fine.” The shit eating grin on her face is just because she’s glad for her friends, it really is. “I would offer you the guest room but my sister has already called dibs on it for the whole week.”

He groans, rolling his eyes since it’s not even worth trying to tell her again. “Just- be careful about wishing for shit tonight.” He warns her before walking back to the back of the house where the bedrooms are.

“Connie?” Expecting to see her head pop around the corner, you quickly realize that the footfalls are too heavy to be hers. “No. That’s not Connie, that’s Javi.”

"Hey." Javi knocks on that almost closed door. "It's me." He murmurs. "Can I come in?" He doesn't know what the fuck is going on but he wants to make sure that you are okay.

“Of course.” Now wearing an old pair of Connie’s scrubs with your gold flats, you just look like a nurse who makes poor shoes choices. “You okay? Or are you still…shaky?”

"Shaky?" Javi pushes the door open and slips inside. "Who the fuck was shaky?" HIs scoff isn't nearly as derisive as it should have been, but he glowers at you in concern.

“Or was that just being too excited to see what panties I had on?” He isn’t going to give up his nerves, apparently, so you switch to teasing instead.

"I can find better ways to see what kind of panties you have on." That makes him smirk and his eyes slide down to admire the way you fill out those scrubs. He relaxes because it seems like you aren't hurt so his shoulders roll back slightly.

“Maybe I’ll wish for you to show me,” you hum, moving across the room to sink into his arms.

The urge to have you washes over him. Burning hotter than any other impulse he's ever had. Completely overriding every thought that might have been present and making his arms wrap around you tight as his mouth descends on yours with a hunger that has him groaning.

It hits you like a freight train, the way Javi’s need seems to be all-encompassing, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss when he wraps you up against him. It’s exactly the way you remember it from a year ago, but maybe a little more abrupt. You seem to remember Javi being a little bit smoother last time. But since when do you mind enthusiasm?

Determined to touch you as quickly as possible, Javi starts to push you back towards the large, king-sized bed that dominates the room. Not even thinking about how it would piss Steve off if he fucked you on his bed. If he had been thinking about it, he would have done it on purpose, but right now he just wants to touch you.

“Javi!” Even as he’s pushing you back on the bed, every thought has left your mind. He’s the reason you came here and the reason you’ve been planning on changing your life and this is finally happening so you’ll send Connie some apology flowers later and move on with your life. His hands squeeze and grope your body as he doesn’t even let go to get you on the bed. It’s like he can’t let go of you. “Cariño?” Something in his mannerisms change, and even though his kiss is every bit as insistent as you remember, his touch is different. It’s…like his hands are glued to you. When you pull back he sounds pained more than anything else. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He grunts, rocking his hips forward and it’s insane, crazy, but the words come out of his mouth. “Tell me to show you what I’ve imagined.” He begs softly, his teeth scraping over your jaw. “Wish it.”

Does it really work? And does it work like that specifically? Or is it just tonight’s token sex game? Either way, your body is far too deeply on fire for you to argue. “I wish you would show me what you’ve imagined.”

It’s a fucking relief to be able to touch more of you. To be able to move to start to immediately strip off the clothes you had just put on.

“Fuck—” As strong and sure as he usually is, Javi is even more determined tonight. Like every movement is being commanded. “Don’t rip anything,” you warn him with a grin.

“I’ll pay Connie for the outfit.” He groans, not caring what he rips as long as he gets to touch you. Fingers curling under the band of the scrub bottoms and peeling them off of you along with your panties.

You scramble backward on the bed as soon as your pants are gone, forcing Javi to climb on with you and sprawl across your body like he’s trying to block out the light. “We’ll be buying them a new comforter, too.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Javi groans, hands sliding under the shirt so he can push it up over your head and see your tits again.

“Goddamn, Javi.” His mouth is on your skin in an instant, hot and wet and searching, making sure you have to clamp one hand down over your mouth to keep from moaning too loudly and alerting the rest of the party.

Now he’s playing out every fantasy he’s ever had of you. Rocking his hard cock against your core while he bites and licks at your tits through the thin material of your bra.

“I swear to god if a phone rings anywhere I will break it in half,” you groan, one hand threaded through Javi’s curls to tug at his hair while he devours your tits and the other trying desperately to maneuver enough to unbutton his shirt in the meantime.

He doesn’t even try to move. Too focused on you so he can hear you moan his name like you had when he was about to fuck you the last time. He’s jerked off thinking about that moan for the last year.

You’re practically tearing his own clothes away. Whatever you can get your hands in while you’re flat on your back is getting pulled open and shoved aside so you can get him as stripped down as you are, and when that doesn’t get you very far you shiver your hands behind your back and strip away your bra to let him at every inch of your skin.

Groaning, Javi attacks your tits with renewed enthusiasm. Mouth recovering every inch of skin he had just mapped. Enjoying the warmth of your skin even more.

He's like a man starved, and you genuinely have to wonder if he's gone as crazy over the last year as you have. It's been torture being apart from him, and maybe it really is the same for him because it feels like Javi is trying to burrow under your skin right now. "Baby." The only coherent thought in your head is that you want more, and you hope you can manage a full sentence. "I need you, Javi. Please."

Huffing against your skin, Javi releases your nipple and starts to kiss down your stomach. Not willing to just rush into sex even though the house is full of people. He’s going to show you what he imagined.

He's disarmingly methodical. Taking you apart piece by piece and making sure that you're not only aching but actively begging for him by the time he settles himself between your legs. It's where he belongs, dammit, and right now you need him more than breathing.

Your scent is heavy in his nostrils. Getting richer as he shuffles to spread your legs wide enough to fit his shoulders through. “Fuck.”

"Not yet," you giggle but the sound is breathy and deep in your chest. "You do whatever you want with that mouth of yours, first."

“Always thought about this.” He admits, nuzzling your thigh and then biting it. “I like licking a cunt, and thought about what you would taste like.”

A shiver rolls through you with each nip to your skin and your hips tilt down, dripping pussy begging for attention. "Time to find out."

Javi licks his lips and groans. Ducking his head down and opening his mouth to devour your pussy with the first long lick. Eyes rolling back in pleasure at the wet heat of your tangy essence.

"Oh my fucking god." Even as hard as you're trying to be quiet, there are some things in life worth being vocal about. Javier Peña eating your pussy is definitely one of them. His arms wrap themselves around your thighs and once more your fingers twine into his curls to keep him close.

His own eyes flutter in pleasure as he carves a path through your folds with his tongue. Indulging in giving pleasure rather than taking it. While he had made sure partners enjoyed themselves, this was honestly for him.

His grip keeps you from squirming, only making sure that your hips stay on the bed while Javi begins to methodically take you apart one lick at a time. If this is what he has wished for, for who knows how long? You're absolutely going to enjoy being on the receiving end of all of those pent-up fantasies.

His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as your legs threaten to close every time he swipes his tongue up and down your pussy. Feeling your ass clench under you and his eyes slide down to watch your tits shake as you quiver.

Every swipe of his tongue hits something exquisite inside you, twisting and pulling at that coil at the base of your spine that is always tingling with the impending need for release. Gasping and moaning his name as quietly as you can with so much pleasure hearing your blood, your nails scrape the base of his skull as you get closer and closer to cumming.

Javi’s eyes close when you scratch his head, shuddering in response to the pleasure. Groaning into your folds and worshiping at the alter of your cunt as he feasts and sips your juices.

Fingers tangling more determinedly with every second, you know how close you are. How loud you’re going to end up being if you don’t keep your mouth shut. So you slap you hand over your mouth and bite your lip, tugging on Javi’s hair that much harder to spur him on.

Javi hisses, twisting his tongue around your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. His nose buried into the thick folds protecting your sensitive flesh as he wills you to cum for him.

So close you're about to rocket off the edge of pleasure, a thought rolls through your mind that you let out instantly, wondering what will happen. "Wish it," you moan, so close you're nearly sobbing. "Wish for me to drench your tongue, Jav."

Right now he couldn’t even speak, so his wish is in his mind. Begging for you to come apart for him, needing to see it.

From that moment it’s as if you are being moved — guided — by the hands of Fate. Or, possibly more accurately, thrown off the precipice of pleasure like a chess piece being forcibly ejected from its game. There is no one to catch you but Javi, as you pant out his name in muffled ecstasy, but that is all you need. Just him, ready to drown himself in every drop of cum he can wring from your body.

He drags you hips closer, groaning as he feels the force of your reaction to him, to this. Curling his tongue up inside you as your thighs press against his head and squeeze.

Barely shy of screaming his name as you fall apart, the giggling puddle of a person you become when you finally stop shaking is downright comical. “Goddamn,” you manage to huff out, panting to catch your breath.

A few more licks before he’s satisfied, Javi smirks as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked cunt. “What’s wrong, muñequita? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re the one with your tongue in my pussy,” you quip with your wit since your body is now basically useless.

He snorts and indulges himself with biting your thigh like he’s imagined hundreds of times. “Sure fuckin’ did.”

“I didn’t pull too hard, did I?” The fingers that you still have in his hair smooth of his scalp to soothe any burn that might be left behind.

“No.” Javi still needs to touch you, show you what else he’s thought of and starts to lick and kiss up your body. “Not hard enough.”

“Should’ve known you would like it h—” When his teeth more than graze one of your nipples, you moan unrestrainedly. “Hard.”

Javi grunts, the sound more like a growl than anything as he starts to suckle on your nipple again.

“Fucking hell, Javi.” Your back bows, chest pushing itself up with the curve of that arch to soak up as much of his attention as possible.

Even as he’s paying attention to your tits, his hips are slotted between yours. Pressing the length of him against your clit as he starts to rock his hips.

It splits your body’s attention and casts a fuzzy cloud over your mind where instinct takes over again above everything else. All you want is more of him and the movement of your own hips is a mimic of the way Javi rocks against you. If you could do it blind, you’d be tipping your hips to take him inside you as fast as humanly fucking possible, but he has you at his mercy.

“Impatient.” Javi chuckles, smirking as he pops your nipple out of his mouth.

“Only cause we’re in somebody else’s bed,” you admit. “Otherwise? It should take hours.”

He snorts and is willing to say that the Murphy’s can just fuck off, but he doesn’t. Instead he slides his hand between your bodies and positions himself at your welcoming entrance. “Are you sure, baby?”

“So fucking sure.” It’s been a year of dreaming about the night you almost had and far more than that of daydreaming about him before you knew exactly what his kisses tasted like. “No hesitation.”

“Thank God.” He groans, pulling his hand away so he can slide it under your body. Slowly rocking his hips forward to break you open as his lips descend on yours.

You would have laughed if there was time. A pleased little giggle of understanding after having waited so long to be with him. But waiting has made you both eager, and the moment he slips inside you and you wrap your legs around his waist? There is nothing to laugh about.

It’s painful, holding back and not just slamming his hips home to bury his cock. But it’s worth it to see your face change as he fills you inch by inch. Slow and steady is a very specific kind of torture. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he pushes forward, and you swear you’re seeing stars by the time he’s fully seated inside you. Only slightly longer than average, Javi’s cock is girthy with prominent veins that scrub along your walls as he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Every sensation is a desperate, delicious, perfect overload of your senses and you whimper in a pitiful bid for more.

A long, colorful stream of Spanish and English intertwined together falls out of his mouth. A filthy prayer to whatever Gods were listening as he feels like his entire body is going to pull in on himself like a black hole of pleasure. Those words breathed into you and moaned in praise.

Even if you know exactly how he feels, you don’t have the words to tell him anymore. You’ve lost the ability to express yourself with any kind of eloquence, or in any way at all, and instead are pouring everything you have into kissing him back and pushing back against every thrust to give both of you your maximum pleasure.

The pace is slow, steady to start with. Needing to feel everything as he rocks his hips and fills you completely every time he bottoms out. “Baby, you- fuck.” He hisses.

This time you do giggle, it it’s broken by a moan. “Yeah I do,” you tease with a grin.

“Tease.” He grunts, shaking his head and kissing you again. His next thrust is more jarring as he snaps his hips forward for emphasis.

"Worth it," you contend, when a few quick thrusts leave you completely breathless.

He rolls his eyes and slides the arm that isn’t around you down to your thigh to pull it up on his hip so he can thrust just a bit deeper into you. “Fuck.” He hisses.

The give and take, push and pull, is intoxicating. Everything about this night has been unexpected and you’re not about to start questioning it now. There’s nowhere else you would rather be, now or for the rest of your life. Slowly, the need gets the best of him. Starting to move faster, putting a bit more force into his thrusts as he fucks you.

It’s impossible not to get wrapped up in him. Even if he didn’t have one arm literally wrapped around you, you would still be lost in being close to him. The world is nothing but Javi now and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Wanted you every damn day we were in that fucking office.” He pants quietly. “Wondering what you would look like spread out, sound like.” He bites your chin. “Never could imagine that you were better than my dreams.”

“So much fucking better.” The number of times you had fantasized about him is completely beyond counting but this is far beyond anything you thought it could be. You fit together like you were always meant to find each other this way.

Instead of ramping up to a frantic pace, Javi keeps it steady and just on the sensual side of things. Nearly lovemaking.

You’ve definitely been gone too long. Someone will have noticed, and it will be Steve, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with that coil of tension pulling tight in your belly and making your legs shake. “So—” Panting in his ear, you turn your head and bite Javi’s jawline the way he loves doing to you. “Fuck baby. So close.”

“Good.” He groans, teeth becoming a part of the kisses he is scattering over your skin. Fingers digging in just a bit harder as his pace falters for the first time.

Just because you didn’t mean it as permission doesn’t mean it can’t be taken that way, and your nails dig their way into Javi’s back as his thrusts get deeper and more erratic.

“Cum for me, muñequita.” He begs, feeling his own control starting to slip. It’s the climax of his dreams and wishes for the past year, quickly making it difficult to maintain stamina for long. He’s too pent up, too eager to have you.

As if he wished it again, you can feel the tension in your body snap like a rubber band. All of a sudden your body hurtles over the edge of pleasure, pulling Javi into you as tightly and deeply as your needy cunt possibly can while you groan into his kiss and press little half-moons into his back with your fingernails.

It's like the floodgates opening, soaking him as you convulse underneath him. "Oh fuck, baby." He moans quietly, steadily rocking into you to make sure you don't miss a second of the pleasure.

“Come on, Javi.” As unbelievably fucking good as it feels, it won’t be complete unless he comes with you. “Cum for me, baby.”

His hands tighten on your body, gripping you as if he's afraid to let you go. As if you might slip away even if you are encouraging him to cum. Gritting his teeth as his pace becomes frantic. Needing only another moment, another thrust before he's cumming. Pushing deep and groaning your name as he fills you. Pouring wave after wave of hot cum into you as he presses his lips to yours.

“Fucking hell.” When both of your bodies are finally still and you feel like you can gasp for air again, you leave lingering kisses on his lips and jaw, indulging in every second of contact.

Javi pants, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours when you stop kissing him. "Fuck is right."

You giggle softly, eyes closed against the feeling of him weighing you down. Afraid somewhere in your mind that if you open them you might find out this was all a dream. “You’re coming back to my hotel tonight…right?”

"Or you can come back to mine." He nuzzles into your neck, kissing your jaw and scraping it with his teeth. "Whatever you want, muñequita."

“Mine has a huge hot tub.” If he hadn’t just completely devastated you, you’d be ready to jump him again at the first nip of teeth. “I plan on riding you in it.”

"Oh?" His brow arches and he pulls away to smirk down at you. "You had those plans when you booked the room?"

“I had those dreams when I booked the room.” You suck a mark into the hollow of his throat and grin. “It’s only a plan now that this happened.”

"I don't mind that dream." He hums. "We can make it a reality."

“All my dirty dreams have a very Javi-esque leading man,” You promise him. “You should feel very flattered.”

"I am." He drolls playfully, leaning in and kissing you again.

“The chain is sexy, by the way.” He still has the necklace and bracelet on that he bought at the costume store and your fingers tangle in it, locked between your chests. “Just so you know.”

"Yeah?" He smirks and winks at you. "It's a little flashy for my tastes, but if you like it..."

"Definitely keep it." As if to prove your point, you use it to tug him a little closer and press another kiss to his lips. "Who knows? It might be magic like the woman downstairs who wished for pizza."

“Yeah?” He snorts. “Maybe the fairy costume you were wearing is magic. That’s why it ripped.”

"It was a nymph costume," you correct him with a pout. "And you should have seen the way your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw me in it. I'm gonna miss that dress."

“You think that shop has another?” Javi asks seriously. “We could go get it.”

“Ohhh, you really liked that dress.” The way you can’t help snickering is almost evil, but he’s still laying on top of you with his softening cock about to slip out of your pussy and you swear you felt it twitch.

"Bend over in it and I get to see your cunt." His hand slides down and he slaps your thigh after one last kiss.

“I’ll let you do more than look if you want to.” The wink you shoot him is devilish, and accompanied by a wide grin. “We have a whole lot of missed time to make up for.”

Javi grunts as he feels himself fall out of you and he shifts onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling for a second and reminding himself that he's on Murphy's bed and not his own. "Yes we do." He groans as he sits up and looks over at you. "Wanna get out of here?" He asks. "Start making it up?"

“Absolutely.” You’ll pull on the scrubs you were borrowing from Connie and you’ll get the hell out of here with Javi for the rest of this first glorious night. But first? You will absolutely be opening the window to let the room air out.

"Leave it." Javi tells you when you move over to the window, guessing what you are going to do. He grins wickedly and tilts his head towards the door. "Steve deserves it for all the shit he's given me."

It takes a couple of minutes to get yourselves straightened out, but once you do, you’re prepared to just say good night and offer to but the Murphy’s dinner tomorrow as both thanks and an apology for slipping out early. What you find when you leave the bedroom, however, is nothing short of chaos. A woman dressed as a cowgirl stands amazed with a pony in the middle of the living room. One guy is standing in the middle of a pile of money cradling the keys to a new car. Another has two beautiful women vying for his attention. The woman who wanted pizza now has an entire stack — it seems like you and Javi weren’t the only ones throwing your wishes around for fun.

"Fuck, there you are." Steve looks positively relieved to see the two of you as he drags Connie over to you. "What the fuck is going on?"

“Do you believe in magic, Murph?” You ask, raising one eyebrow even as Javi’s fingers kink through your own.

He rolls his eyes and then they fall on your joined hands. "Holy shit, maybe miracles do happen if you holding hands means what I think it means."

“You don’t want to know what it means.” It’s your assurance, but you crack a grin anyway. “Just…be careful what you wish for tonight. Okay, Stevie?”

"Huh?" He frowns, but Connie bites her lip, rushing forward to give you a hug. She knows how long you have pined for Javi.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” you murmur, squeezing her back in a tight hug. “Dinner tomorrow. On us. I wanna hear how the rest of this party goes.”

“It’s getting crazy.” Connie admits, hugging you fiercely and stepping back to shoot Javi a grin. “Go have fun you two.”

“Don’t worry,” you shout back over your shoulder as Javi immediately starts to move you toward the door. “We will!”

Javi wraps his arm around you as you exit the house, guiding you towards the rental car he had driven over. “They are in for a wild night.” He predicts. “Steve’s been wishing for threesome for years.”

______

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#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x dea!reader #dea!reader #coworker romance #pining #the one that got away #halloween party #Halloween #Spooktober

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undercoverpena · 1 year

Note

hi love! Can I use the prompt

“Visiting them at work, either with lunch, or just to spend the afternoon with them as they try to get things done. Whether they actually get things done, or thing devolve into flirting/romantic gestures is up to you.”

With Javier Peña?? I truly believe a women showing him love/affection would make him throw up lmao but still I crave it. thank you ❤️❤️

#mmvalentinesevent

lunch break.

javi peña x f!reader

an: i hope you don’t mind i changed it a smudge, thought this would be more him, and his counterpart. season one/two ish. i’ve been loose with details.

You don’t even need to let the door slam, his eyes find yours as soon as you're standing in the doorway.

The realisation dawning, spreading, making creases appear in his brow before they smooth out, eyes softening and filling with apologies. Ones that make the air—in the loud, busy room he works in—all the more thick and heavy.

His jawline is more prominent, jutting out. You've committed it to memory with both your fingers and mouth. The feel of it is still able to conjure on your lips—if you need them to.

Instead, you watch his eyes. How the beginning of an apology begins to form as they sweep over your frame. Not that you'll accept it.

Hastily lifting the brown bag, you move closer to his desk. You're quick to notice the new deeper shade of the circles under his eyes. How they're worse under the sepia lighting—even more so as he leans back, arms stretching behind his skull as he rolls his lips.

All you're focused on is how his top two buttons are undone. The thinnest spread of sweat blotting over his skin, making your mind summon memories that'll make you weak, when you want to make him pay.

“I… fuck. I was meant to meet you for lunch?”

Your brows rise playfully, walking closer to his desk, dumping the bag down on the edge as you shift your denim jacket from your shoulders. “You were meant to meet me for lunch.”

With one hand, you wheel Murphy’s free chair to his desk, plonking yourself down next to him. Letting the thin fabric of your sundress settle above your thighs—landing higher on your skin than it did when you’d been standing.

Perfect.

“I’m so—“

“Save it, Peña. I ordered for you, which don't thank me—I added everything you hate to it.”

He pulls your chair closer to him, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Thank you, cariño.”

You almost crack.

His name for you, the one which rolls from his lips like honey, the one he's scorched over and over again against your rib cage, lips and thighs.

“The only reason I’m here is because I want to embarrass you as much as you embarrassed me by standing me up?”

Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he follows it by sliding his thumb in the same pattern. Dark eyes studying, traipsing over your face—desperately trying not to let them descend to your bare collarbone.

“How badly am I going to pay for this?”

You smirk, pulling out one of the trays from the bag, shrugging lightly as you place one in front of him. Cautiously avoiding his files, papers and lit cigarette.

You feel it then, his palm on your leg. Heavy, tight—warm. It takes everything not to inhale. To let your skin go several degrees higher from the implications, from the knowledge of what it can do.

Nothing was innocent with Javi Peña. But then, he didn’t come round at all hours of the night because you were innocent either. It hadn't begun between you to begin with because you were irreproachable.

Smirking silently to yourself, you allow his fingers to dance up your thigh. Having already put a plan in motion.

It's why you don't demand his eyes back to you when they move back on the papers in front of him. You don't argue when he mutters that you’ll have all his attention in a minute. You already know you will when he realises.

Instead, you pop open your tray, silently watching the smoke from his cigarette swirl up into the lights, blending with the cloud that's likely been forming since the sun rose.

And you wait.

“Where’s Murphy?”

“Fuck if I know.”

You bite the corners of your cheek, watching him flip a page over, his hand rising a little more north on your leg.

It’s torture, waiting. Needing him to rise up, feel the crease of your thigh. To run his index finger over the place where cotton or lace should be—finding nothing but bare, beautiful skin.

You almost forget how to breathe as you wait.

The underwear you’d slid off in the car, sitting dormant in your jacket pocket. Knowing there’s nothing greater in this world than food, sex, wine and torturing him; than making him wait, and watching a man who is rarely ever told no, to be patient.

You bite into your food, spices exploding as you fight a groan. Not wanting to give yourself away—to showcase that you’re up to something as he draws patterns on your skin.

You just want him a little higher, wanting him to brush over the empty expanse where he’d only last night slid your underwear down with his teeth.

It’s tense. Almost unsure how you can swallow from the way your pulse thundered in your throat. It’s making you sweat. Your skin prickling with adrenaline, eyes fixated on his side profile—his handsome, fucking face.

For a second, you hold your breath as his fingers fan over your skin. You’re rendered useless when he pauses, head lifting half an inch, dark eyes staring at you from the corners.

“Cariño…”

You lick the sauce from your finger, dropping the remainder of your food into the tray, blanking your face as you hum.

“Did you… Did you forget something?”

Frowning, you lick your lips as you tilt your head, meeting his gaze. Skin warming under it—thighs desperate to push together under his burning gaze.

“Don't think so? I mean, there’s more sauce in the bag—“

He turns his chair quickly, wheels working with him as he pulls you close—yours almost colliding with his. But he's good, so good. Already having his leg slotting between yours as you’re pulled to face him.

“Not the sauce. Where are they?”

You bite your lip, letting the smirk show, the angelic facade falling as quickly as your dress would have done—if he had shown up. “Pocket.”

“Give them to me.”

Frowning, you trace your teeth with your tongue. Slowly shaking your head, smirk broadening, telling him enough without as much as speaking.

He grits his jaw, staring at you, not even caring for how brazen he’s being with letting his eyes roll over you. How they take you in, undressing you, reminding your muscles and bones how he feels when he’s against you.

It takes all of you not to brush the strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead. But if you do, he’ll kiss your pulse. He’ll coax you in, make you forget that he had you waiting for an hour.

You didn’t come here because you want to forgive him, you want him to repent. Want him on his knees, hands on the back of your thighs whispering prayers into the space between your thighs.

He must know. Must be able to tell. His eyes shifting, lips curling.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

Leaning closer, your eyes flick to his lips. His perfect, parting lips. “Oh, I know." Your fingers press against them, pushing his head back gently. "Eat ya damn food, Peña.”

He drops his chin, staring up at you through his lashes, whispering, “There's something else I’d rather eat.”

You hum, smiling sweetly. “Oh, Javi, I know. But, that was dessert and you didn’t bother fucking showing up for the main. So.”

He eyes you, prodding his tongue into his cheek. "Alright, cariño."

Smirking, your eyes fall to his lap, noticing the prominent bulge, the one you'd caused as you, moved closer to his ear, lips ghosting over his skin. "Let this be a lesson to not stand me up again, Javi."

He tenses from head to toe, watching you as you lean forward to grab your tray. "You're a horrible woman."

Licking the sauce from your finger, you smile. "Oh, I know, querido."

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softpascalito · 1 year

Text

javier peña x f!dea!reader - we got your back.

Summary: You work as a new DEA agent alongside Peña and Murphy. A not-so-kind colleague reveals more about you than you would like. Protectiveness and fluff ensues.

aka

my friend wrote me some hurt/comfort headcanons and i turned them into a small something :)

Relationships: Javier Peña x FemReader (can be read as romantic or platonic)

WC: ~4200

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mention of Canon-Typical Violence, No beta we die like Colonel Carrillo, Family Issues, They arent specified but reader is implied to be from a dysfunctional family, Steve is here too

AO3 LINK // PART 2 // PART 3 (on tumblr)

Notes:

hello!

there is a mention of the readers dysfunctional family in this story. if you relate to that in any way, please always remember that you are worthy of healthy love. it exists. seek help or advice if you need it. toxic environments arent forever. if you need to talk, my inbox is always open.

i havent written anything in a while and english is not my first language so please be kind and leave a comment if you like it <3 _______________________________

Chapter 1

You had been in Bogotá for less than three months and while the past weeks had been filled with too little sleep, too much coffee and the daily fear of being targeted by a sicario , you had developed somewhat of a routine in the new environment. This was in large parts due to work at the Embassy. With Bogotá traffic being, well, Bogotá traffic, there'd been several days where you'd just bunked down on your office floor instead of going home to your bed which eventually had led to both Javier and Steve and now you always keeping a spare pillow and blanket around the office to make it slightly more comfortable. The most homey part about the Embassy however, were the people. Not just the two agents you were assigned to assist, hell, not even just the DEA department. Everyone helped each other out wherever they could. Being a gringo in Colombia with a drug lord promising a nice sum of money for your head was impossible to bear by yourself. And only almost impossible to bear with a bunch of people who were in the same position as you. You got along with almost everyone at the embassy. Almost everyone . The harsh contrast to your other, kind colleagues was a DEA secretary: Raquel Vázquez. She had been throwing obstacles and hateful glances your way as soon as you had arrived. You weren't even sure why she hated you so much. She was the wife of another agent and as spouses were not allowed to work anywhere but the embassy, she was stuck with her desk job, spending the day signing off letters, faxing intel to Washington and her favorite pass-time: taunt you for whatever she could come up with. “Hey, are you even listening?” Steve is crouched down in front of your desk and waving his hand through your line of sight, trying to grab your attention. Almost immediately there is a dramatic, loud sigh from the other side of the room:” How do you expect her to function on a job like this if she can't even manage to function within her own family?” Raquel snaps before rolling her eyes and pretending to look at the documents in front of her. Your head practically whips around as your brain processes what she just said. How the hell does that bitch know about your family situation? “I- I need to get a refill,” you mumble as you get up abruptly and grab your coffee mug, your old chair screeching as it is pushed back. Suddenly you're feeling a lot smaller as you navigate your way through the desks and flee to the small kitchen down the hall. You almost collide with Javier, who is just getting back from a meeting. You squeeze past him, not even giving him a chance to tease you. If one more person gets on your nerves, you are surely going to cry and you do not need that in front of your colleagues. Least of all in front of Raquel.

“Is everything alright with her?” Javier asks as he walks over to Steve, who is still kneeling in front of your desk and staring at the doorway you just left through. He slowly stands up and turns his attention towards the secretary, casually leaning over your now abandoned desk with crossed arms as his angry gaze bores into Raquel's skull. His eyes not leaving her, he turns towards Javi:” Do you know Y/N's family?” He asks bluntly. Javier seems somewhat taken aback by the question. He ponders for a few moments, his furrowed eyebrows forming a deep line on his forehead as he slowly shakes his head:'' I don't think she's ever mentioned them. Didn't come up. Why?” Steve's gaze is still on the secretary, knowing that she is listening in to every and each of their words:” Raquel mentioned them.” He raises his voice slightly:” How did you put it? Dysfunctional ?” Javi clenches his jaw as he turns to the woman as well. With a few quick strides, he approaches her desk and almost slams his hands down on it.

“Señora Vázquez.” His voice is barely more than an angry, deep grumble. The woman jumps slightly as she looks up at him as he towers over her. Before she can even open her mouth, he continues:” Don't you think the higher ups would be interested in the fact that you prioritize the private life of your coworkers over your actual work?” At the implication of his words, a panicked look appears on Raquel's features:” I don't know what you're talking about.” Giving her a warning look, Javier turns on his heels and follows you, muttering a “gonorrea de fea” under his breath.

You are standing in the small kitchen space, your elbows resting on the counter as you hold your head in your hands. The empty cup that had served as your makeshift alibi is standing next to you, forgotten. You hear the footsteps just in time to scramble back up and clutch the empty mug in your hands as you try and put on a nonchalant face. Judging by the way Javier is looking at you, you're not doing a very good job. He has been leaning against the doorframe and is now slowly stepping towards you:” I didn't mean to startle you.” You notice he has activated what Steve and you always call his “puppy face”. There is a softness in his brown eyes that you know is reserved for those closest to him as he leans against the counter next to you. “I- It's fine I just …” You stumble over your own words, too upset to find a quick excuse for your behavior and lie to him. The truth is, you're not entirely sure you want to lie to him. Not when he is standing so close to you, looking at you with that stupid, heart-melting look in his eyes. “I heard about what happened,” Javi interrupts your rather unsuccessful attempt at explaining yourself. So whatever excuse you have ready, I don't need to hear it.

He gently reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before stepping closer and taking the empty mug out of your hands. He notices that it's empty. He doesn't mention it. Instead, he reaches around you to place it on the counter before gently pulling you into his embrace. Javier isn't really a hugging person. Hell, you aren't either. But he holds you close, gently stroking your back and you feel whatever resolve you had left about allowing him to comfort you evaporating into thin air.

“You know Steve and I always got your back, right?” He mumbles, his voice low. You can feel his lips on your forehead as he ever so gently places a small kiss on it. You know he is expecting an answer but you feel as if opening your mouth will also open the floodgates so you simply nod your head. He sighs softly:” Good, good. I also want you to know that if you need someone, you can come to me anytime. Day, night, fucking lunchbreak, I dont care.”

Leaning back just enough so he can see you, Javi gently lifts your chin up with his hand, forcing you to lock eyes with him to make sure you can see that he actually means his words.

“I'm here for you, cariño and I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

“Yeah,” you manage to breathe out, your heart bursting with love and appreciation for the man in front of you. Smiling, satisfied, Javier presses another small kiss to your temple before letting go of you to pour you a new coffee. He adds a large splash of milk, just as you like it and insists on carrying it back to your desk for you. As you make your way through the hallway, just before you walk through the large door that leads into the DEA office, he stops in his tracks, turning to you with a smirk on his face.

“You also know that I'll put everything into getting Raquel fired if she ever bothers you again, don't you?” A laugh escapes you before you can help it and you gently nudge him to go on:” Im counting on it.”

You could swear it's the biggest grin you've ever seen on his face. _________________________________

thank you for reading, you lovely people. and a huge thank you to my friend hannah who wrote me the headcanons that i made into this small story. she is the true genius behind it and an absolutely amazing person, ily <3 comments or feedback are always very appreciated and truly make my day <3

#javier peña #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #javier pena fic #narcos fic #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #javier peña imagine #pedro pascal #pedrito #narcos #javi peña #javier peña x dea!reader #javier peña x female reader

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marvelwitchergilmore · 1 year

Text

Secure

Summary; Javier Peña x Fe!Reader -> You meet Peña at a coffee shop but after time passes, he finds out your secret.

Disclaimer: fluff, angst, mentions of guns, mentions of death, illusions to smut, swearing (I think, I haven't proof read this - probably spelling mistakes), spanish is in italics.

You had met Javi one late night in the coffee shop. You were getting the place cleaned up for the morning. Isabella, a regular customer, was sat in the corner with her nose burried deep in her research. The old man who’d you come to know as Pops - a name he told everyone to call him by - was finishing his book closer to the counter. It had been a promise he made to his wife. To read a little, at least, while she was gone. That way they’d have something else to talk about when they met again. Jośe, the young boy who’d run through the door every couple of hours in need of a coffee for his mama and a small cookie for himself, had just left, rushing out of the door going ten miles an hour.

“Good book, pops?” You asked and he looked up and smiled.

“Excellent.”

“Good.” You smiled.

Just as you placed the empty cups from different tables by the counter, the bell above the door rang out. “You open?”

You looked over your shoulder. “Yeah. For a couple minutes.”

“Great.”

He rushed over, you moving the dirty cups from the counter.

“What can I get for you?” You asked in English.

“Coffee. Decaf.”

“Coming up.”

Then it hit him. “How’d you know I was American?”

“What?” You looked to him as you changed the filter. “Oh, uh, just a guess.”

He nodded and looked around, suddenly being met with Pops.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sweet.”

You smiled and waved to Pops. “Have a good night.”

“Night.”

“Nice Spanish.”

You smiled. “Thanks. I’ve lived here long enough, I should know.”

“I’m Javier, by the way.”

You smiled back and gave him your name which he repeated. It sounded nice.

“So, how long have you lived in Columbia?”

“A couple years. Yourself?”

“Same.”

The conversation ended soon enough when his coffee was paid for - he had something important to get back to.

But the next night, you were closing up again and he came in. In fact, for the following weeks, he came in around the same time every night; just before closing.

He started conversations with Pops who would tell Javier the meaning behind all his books. He actually started taking a couple of night classes at the local college. His wife always told him he needed to socialise more.

She was a people person.

And Javier would sit there and listen. Pops, clearly, was a man who demanded respect with a single look. Something, over the weeks, you realised Peña had, too.

During the week, you had heard rumours about Javier. About his job.

But it was never something you asked him about. You knew more than to ask an American in Columbia if he was working for the government.

But still, he’d come in every day and order a cup of coffee and smoke his cigarette. You’d both talk and eventually, it got to the point where he’d walk you home.

It wasn’t far; maybe a couple of blocks.

You’d tell him why you came to Columbia - your sister. She travelled after college and invited you to join her. But something made you stay.

He ask where you learnt Spanish. You’d tell him school, mostly, but the practice came in while you worked in the coffee shop.

Some days, he’d come in during the day and just talk to you. He’d order a coffee here and there but it mostly remained untouched which wasn’t like him.

Steve had asked questions at work about who Javi was going seeing every day - at first he expected it was to see one of his ‘informants’ but after he began to smell less perfume and more coffee around Peña, it raises his suspicions.

Peña would give a vague answer but when Steve told Connie, she knew instantly.

It wasn’t that a woman’s intuition was lost of Peña, it was just something about Connie that scared him. She seemed to know what he was thinking about whenever she looked at him.

Little did he know, she’d seen him a couple times walk into the same coffee shop and leave with a smile on his face. One Connie nor Steve ever saw on the man’s face.

But surpringly, it took him a while to ask you on a date.

Javier wasn’t one for dating. After all, his job didn’t exactly allow it - especially in Columbia - but Connie (and Pops) thought he would have at least done it sooner. After all, the man came in every day for weeks just to simply spend time with you. He’d walk you home and always made sure you were safe. And god help any man that approached the counter and started flirting with you.

It was like Javier had a radar for those who were flirting with you because each time, not two seconds later, Javier would stroll into the shop and make his way to the counter. Most times, it was like you had a radar for him, too. His coffee would be ready for him to pick up and if the guy wasn’t scared away by the look Peña gave them, he’d order a couple more cups for Steve and Connie (she’d usually come by in the afternoons to check in on him when she had the day off). He’d stay until the guy left and most people who looked away from their books noticed.

And maybe, in truth, you had noticed a little, too. Most guys tended to scarper when Javi walked in. A few of them would even apologise to him and you for thinking differently.

Eventually, when he asked you on a date, you said yes.

He was so nervous. Imagine; Javier Peña, nervous around a woman. Even the heavens wouldn’t believe it.

But he was.

He’d asked after he dropped you off at your apartment. His palms were sweating, his mind was racing, and you were right in front of him.

But the moment you smiled, his nerves eased.

You smiled at him, nodded and said; “I’d love to.”

He smiled back, a little more confident, and before you opened your door, you kissed his cheek.

“Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night, hermosa.”

As you closed your door, leaning against it, you smiled but you knew.

You were in deep trouble.

It didn’t take too long before you were both…intimate with one another. Four dates, in fact. It was longer than either of you had presumed but it kinda made sense. Mostly, the dates went as follows:

You’d both ask questions which the other would answer, just simply wanting to know more. Then, you’d take turns picking the restaurant or bar. Next, you’d both head back to the coffee shop - the temp waitress had a family to get back to in the late nights - where you’d wrap your apron around your waist and serve the last couple cups of coffee to the night owls. Finally, Javi would either walk or drive you home (usually walk since he could hold your hand or wrap an arm around your waist) and finally would kiss you goodnight.

It felt different.

You’d gone on dates before but…they didn’t feel like this. Like…it was the first time but it was also the millionth.

It felt…natural.

Homely.

A couple more weeks passed and you’d see Javier at least once a day. He always pop into the cafe to either kiss you good morning (when you hadn’t spent the night together - which was a rareity) or to kiss you goodnight which, you weren’t ashamed to admit would always turn into something more.

One morning, as Javi lay back in bed, the cover draped over his lower half, he watched as you got dressed by the end of the bed.

But that was when he noticed them.

How he hadn’t before shocked him. It was like he studied every inch of you - and not only in the night but that morning too - and yet, how did they slip by him.

“Hermosa?”

You smiled at the nickname before turning to look at him over you shoulder. You just wished you both had the day off.

“The marks…”

It took you a moment to realise what he was talking about. But then it hit you.

A memory you wished to forget.

“They’re just from…” you contemplated telling him.

He’d understand, right? He never confirmed it fully but you knew he worked as DEA. He’d understand carry a couple extra physical scars from a job, right?

“They’re nothing, Javi.”

You heard him shuffle around before you finally felt his hand on your back, tracing them before placing a soft kiss onto a couple, brushing your hair from your shoulders.

You felt yourself melt into him, his other hand now reaching around your stomach to capture the other side of your waist.

Slowly, you both lay back but then you remembered.

You had a job.

Unfortunately.

Javi groaned. He had one, too.

You pressed a few kisses to his lips before he moved from on top of you and headed for the bathroom, him leaving you resting on your forearms with a huge blush across your cheeks.

God, you were falling.

Hard.

It would be a while longer until Javier would find out the truth behind those scars; Find out the story that came with them and you.

And it wasn’t in any way either of you thought it would happen.

4 months later…

The sun was still burning hot over Columbia. Thankfully, however, the humidity was becoming less close and claustrophobic.

Yourself and Javi had been going pretty strong. You had met Steve and Connie - albeit a little surprisingly.

One of your waitresses had cut their hand whilst cutting up some of the breads for lunch later that day. Connie had been passing on the street with Olivia when one of the customers ran out asking for a nurse or doctor.

Connie came rushing inside.

After asking for your first aid kit and a space away from the customers, she handed you Olivia who you stood with in the kitchen as Connie cleaned out the wound and did what was necessary.

“You’re lucky. It doesn’t need stitches. Just keep it wrapped and clean.”

Your waitress, Elena, looked to you confused. You translated in Spanish and she nodded before thanking Connie.

You gave Elena the rest of the day and offered Connie a cup of coffee and some food on the house. She thanked you before sitting down at one of the tables and placing Olivia on her lap.

Yet, by the time you finished up, Javi had come strolling in and was a little shocked to find Connie sat inside.

And, as suspected, Connie was shocked to find Javi there, too. But then it began to make sense.

The smell off the coffee shop - it was Javi.

It was you.

Later that night, after Connie had insisted, you sat down and had a double date with Connie and Steve at a local place.

Steve was glad Peña had finally found someone. As much as he himself had enjoyed the single life, there was just something about being married. About having someone to go to when things got too tough.

And, this was something, if Steve ever said it out loud, Jacier would have to agree with.

Sometimes it was like you were the only thing keeping him breathing. Keeping his mind awake when all it wanted to do was drown in the crime and the cases he delt with on a daily basis.

The last six months, from the moment of meeting, it had felt like bliss.

But sometimes it felt like Javi was waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, although you never voiced it, you did, too.

And finally, late one night in the coffee shop, it did.

Javi had worked later than he’d wished to have done. His paperwork had kept him back, making seven typing errors in one sentence.

Most of the time, he wouldn’t bother. But with Messina…everything had to be up to code.

And legible.

But as he walked up the street, he found flashing lights outside your coffee shop, a waitress sat by the ambulance getting patched up and no sign of you.

His heart dropped.

“Peña?”

One of the cops recognised him. “I wasn’t aware we’d called the DEA.”

“You…what happened?”

“Oh, uh, robbery. Or, attempted. Two shooters. One deceased.”

“And the other?”

“Hospital.”

“How?”

“The owner faught. One of them came from the back and sneaked up on her. She said she was fine and needs to go home. We’re gonna bring her in for questioning tomorrow.”

Peña nodded, trying his best to keep a clear mind. So you was okay? Why hadn’t you called him?

As quickly as he could, he ran to his car and sped down the roads towards your apartment. But the closer he seemed to get, the more he began to panic.

You had faught?

It wasn’t that he was surprised but…no, he was surprised. Most people when met with two armed gun men didn’t exactly fight against them. Especially when the only other person in the shop had been knocked clean out and now had a severe concussion.

But you had faught. You had, what? Killed one gun man and injured the other?

This seemed more than just a robbery, to Peña. He didn’t exactly know why. Maybe it was the fact that the toll hadn’t even been touched. Maybe it was the fact that they’d knocked out one of the waitresses. Maybe it was the gun they had been using - Peña saw them as they got taken in for evidence.

This couldn’t have just been a robbery.

Peña didn’t bother knocking. He knew where you kept the spear key and he knew the code.

He shouted your name as he entered, shutting the door behind him. “Honey?!”

Javier had to double back as he passed the enterence to you living room. There you were, sat on the sofa, blood splattered across your body, hair, arms and clothes. You had a first aid kit open in front of you. Javier could see the bloody gauzes in a pile in the table.

“I’m fine-“

He rushed in, pulling you up and hugging you. God, he thought you might have been dead. That the cop had got it wrong and he’d decided to just hear what he wanted to.

But he didn’t.

You were here.

You were alive.

Are.

“Cariño,” Javi’s voice was soft as he took you in. Any anger he had right now could be saved for later. All that mattered was that you was alive.

You pulled back from him to sit back down. You needed to clean the wound.

One of the gun men had got you. Thankfully it wasn’t too bad and since it was night, you got away with telling the cop the stain on your uniform was from the kitchens.

Peña pushed the first aid beside him as he sat on your coffee table, you knees interlocked with his.

“It doesn’t hurt?” He asked you after a couple of minutes. He was shocked. Most men he’d met would be at least grunting in pain by now.

You shook your head.

Something changed in Javi. His back became straighter, his gaze more focused.

“Those scars. How did you get them?”

“Javi.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“They’re nothing-“

“Bullshit.”

You stared him down. He wouldn’t budge.

“How did you fight? Those men. One is dead and the other will probably do so in hospital. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N.”

You bursted. You tried your best to look away as Javi questioned you but when he said your name…

“I was a cop, alright!” You hadn’t meant for it to sound so loud.

Javi just looked at you. You hadn’t told him? Was this how you got the scars?

You sighed as you looked down. Well, it was out in the open now.

“I was a cop, back in the states. FBI.” You explained, your voice a little quieter now. “I had a partner, a couple years back. We had been working on a case for months. Turns out, all the information, all the insider stuff he’d found - it had come from him. He wanted into their circle. The people I had seen die, everyone’s families and children and friends had all died because he was the mole. He would tell the group where to find the families, he’d tell us he knew where the groups would be that night. Then he’d go back and inform them that we were on our way. It as fucked up.”

Javi waited for you to continue.

“Look, I felt something was wrong so I tailed him one night. I put a call in and somehow…he found me one night. He caught be by the shipyard. When my agents finally turned up, I was almost dead. When I woke up in hospital, a guy came in. CIA. I had a bag packed, my life covered up and a plane ticket to wherever I wanted to go.”

“So you came to Columbia?”

“My sister stopped over for three days and I stayed. I don’t know what made me but I did. An agent found me a job at a local place since I wasn’t ready to go into the field or anywhere near it. The job stuck and then I decided to buy the place.”

“And the guys?”

“Local gang, I guess. They look into everyone’s background and they must have thought something was up with mine.”

“Did they say anything?”

“Just that I was American and that I had a dirty secret.”

“They know you were a fed?”

You shook your head. “Probably thought I was an informant or some shit.”

Javier nodded. You could see the worry in his eyes.

“I’m fine, Javi.”

“You could have told me, you know.”

You looked at him. Maybe. Maybe you could have told him earlier. Maybe you should have told him earlier. But what would that have done? Make him worry more? Make him panic when you were left alone?

You’d been in Columbia a good few years before you met Javi. You were one of the best agents the FBI had in the field and - if you ever wanted it - there was a job waiting for you at the FBI in the states, the CIA or, probably now, the DEA.

You were protected. By your career, by your knowledge, by your skills and by the fact that you entire past had been burried so deep, not even the Pentagon had access to it.

Your gaze was both soft and serious.

“I’m telling you now.”

Over the next hour, Javi went to your bathroom and grabbed a fresh face cloth before getting a bowl of warm water. Sitting back in his place on the table, he held your chin softly, Turing your face so he could wipe away the splats of dried blood.

Once he finished, he placed the cloth down and turned back when he felt your hand grip his.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

Javi just nodded, interlocking his knees with yours once more. “I get it. I do. I just wish…”

“I know.”

You both shared a look with one another. It didn’t need to be said out loud.

Peña leaned in, and pressed a secure kiss to your lips.

You would be okay.

You are alive.

And, over time, more stories would be revealed. What happened on certain jobs, what scars came from where, what they signified…

But in this moment; it didn’t matter.

All of that could wait until tomorrow.

For tonight, he wanted to show you what you meant to him. He’d say the words soon enough, but right now, he just needed to show you.

And you were okay with that.

After all, you felt the exact same way.

356 notes · View notes

morallyinept · 7 months

Text

Play Ball - A Javier Peña GIFLET

Uh, Jett, what the heck is a GIFLET??

Just a short, 500 words or less drabble, based on inspiration I got from a GIF. Simples.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 498

Scoville Smut Rating: Alludes to smut, but no detail.

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

GIFLET MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

This GIFLET is inspired by the below GIF 👇🏻 (Can't remember where I found this one, if it's yours let me know so I can credit appropriately.)

"Agent Peña." His superior greets, standing up as he steps through the door tentatively.

Javier braces forward and turns as he catches something moving out the corner of his eye that makes him freeze instantly on the spot.

You.

Bueno esto no es bueno. Mierda.

You smirk at him as his expression changes almost immediately from apprehension to pale shell shock.

"Hello again, Agent Peña." You smile warmly with a hint of smarminess in your eyes and brilliant teeth that flash at him, like a shark's jaw ready to take a gluttonous bite.

"You two know each other?" His superior asks as she buttons up her suit jacket.

Javier shakes his head, but you speak.

"We ran into each other last night in the city. Agent Peña was very… accomodating." You respond, still grinning at him.

He swallows; his dark eyes dropping as you extend your palm towards him and he regards it with controlled fury through gritted teeth. The ball drops before taking it, and squeezing tighter on you than he probably should.

"What's going on?" He questions his superior warily.

"The DEA hasn't been working collaboratively with the local authorities and so we brought in some specialist help to assist in bridging the gap."

"Specialist, huh?" He regards you, looking you up and down, with mirth. And some swelling hunger that hasn't quite fizzled out yet, despite his distaste.

You can still feel it too - the mess he left between your legs last night. You can still smell the musk of his spiced cologne and cigarettes on your skin, despite showering this morning when he left your apartment.

"You're not playing ball, Agent Peña. I'm here to ensure that you do." You reply.

He scoffs and shakes his head, hands on his slim hips and clicks his tongue.

"So you think I need a fucking babysitter?" He questions his superior, clearly pissed off. "Tienes que estar bromeando."

"You're a liability, Peña. Frankly, your methods are attracting the wrong attention in this case, and I'm tired of having to clean up your shit. From now on, she's your shadow." His superior addresses you now. "Stick to him like glue. He can be a slippery bastard." She rounds the desk towards the door and opens it for you both. "Now, if you don't mind, I've a call to make. More shit to clean up."

You both exit her office, and he turns to look at you; eyebrows knitted together in a pert scowl.

"So, you knew who I was last night when you made a play for me, hmm?"

You shake your head. "I'll think you'll find it was you who made a play for me, Agent. Your reputation precedes you after all."

"Fuck you, cariño." He mutters petulantly.

"Play nice, Javier. I think you'll find you'll enjoy working under me." You smile at him. "You certainly enjoyed it last night."

You simply throw a smouldering smirk over your shoulder as you make your way towards his desk.

🖤

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joelsgreys · 1 year

Text

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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joelscurls · 5 months

Text

give in to temptation

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

words: 5.5k

summary: you're in a relationship now — a good, healthy relationship — that doesn't stop you from texting your ex Javi late at night.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, post Narcos s3, porn with plot, smoking, alcohol consumption, explicit smut, sexting, infidelity (I do not condone cheating, but unfortunately it's hot when it's with Javi), reference to masturbation (f), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, use of pet names (cariño, querida, baby, etc.); lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: hi! enjoy 5kish words of dubious morals bc I couldn't get this idea out of my head :)

Humidity clings to the walls, bedsheets strewn across your legs damp with sweat. You kick at them aimlessly, and the cotton grips tighter to slick skin.

In the curve of your palm rests your phone, ringer switched off and brightness turned all the way down — the last thing you want is to wake your boyfriend, dozing next to you as you text another man.

Your fingers are clammy where they wrap around metal, sweat pooling in the divots between your knuckles.

This is wrong; you know it’s wrong, just like every time preceding this one. But the guilt does nothing to slow the adrenaline racing through your veins. If anything, it makes your heart thump harder.

That, and the words pixelated on the tiny screen of your flip-phone.

Javi [2:03am]: I’ve been thinking about you all day, cariño. Got me so hard.

You’d met Javier Peña just over a year ago.

A young woman alone at the bar, you’d drawn him in like a moth to a flame. He had dark brooding eyes and a savior complex that’d been made more apparent with each story he’d shared about his time as a DEA attaché in Colombia, from which he’d recently returned.

Do you miss it? you’d asked, nursing a martini.

Like hell, he’d said. But I have nothing left to give.

I don’t know if I believe you, you’d countered with a wink.

Not an hour later, you’d found yourself in his living room, dress hiked up to your waist as he devoured you.

Sex with Javi was easy, mindless. For a while, his body served as a refuge for you after shitty days at work and arguments with your overbearing mother. A lone beacon in the fog, he was always more than willing to help you forget the stressors in your life. And your own name.

It was passionate, and filthy, and sticky — left your legs trembling and your head dizzy — each and every time.

With him, you didn’t have to talk. Didn’t have to think. It was just sex, with no strings and no labels. Your relationship, if you could call it that, was perpetuated by the transcendent pleasure you felt in the spaces between words, when your mouths were preoccupied.

But when your birthday came and went and you found yourself another year older, an aching feeling settled in your gut — a feeling that time had begun to pass more quickly than it used to. And on its heels came the desire for something more, something you knew Javi was not willing to provide: a relationship.

The decision to end things was mutual, amicable. It was the easiest “breakup” you’d ever gone through. Maybe because it wasn’t a “breakup” at all.

A few weeks later, you’d met Nathan, a law student with a polite disposition and an eagerness to settle down. He’d treated you well, the type to open doors for you and ask about your day. On all fronts, he was a good man — a little boring, but good.

After a month, you made it official. After two, he moved into your place.

And you stopped thinking about Javi, about the way his large hand had fit perfectly around your throat, the way he’d been able to coax you to orgasm in two different languages. No, you only thought about the man in front of you, the one with the steadily growing collection of argyle ties and the unstamped passport.

Sex with Nathan was admittedly different. He didn’t make you cum as quickly or as easily; your body didn’t crave his with the same amount of fervor it had Javier’s. But it was loving, sweet, what any woman would want…should want.

And it was normal that you thought about your ex sometimes when your current partner laid his weight on top of you, that you imagined a different mouth slotted against your neck or on your tits. Because certainly, everyone did that every once in a while. It was harmless.

As long as you never uttered his name out loud, he’d remain only in your head, lost to time to exist there forevermore.

But then came the day in the grocery store, on your date to the cereal aisle to restock Nathan’s favorite, bran flakes. He’d materialized like a ghost of good sex’s past.

You didn’t dare speak to him, didn’t trust yourself to. Under the bright fluorescent lights, you’d felt your palms begin to sweat, your throat constrict, eyes glued to the selection of boxes in front of you. But while Nathan debated between store brand and name brand, you’d snuck another cautious glance at him.

Javi’s expression was unreadable. He’d looked between you and Nathan as if he were trying to solve a rubix cube. One he was becoming increasingly frustrated by. He��d gripped the handle of his shopping cart so tightly, the skin on his knuckles appeared near translucent.

And then he’d disappeared, tiny wheels on the carriage screeching, noise barely audible over your pulse.

The first text came later that night.

Are you seeing someone? it’d read.

Yes, you’d replied. But that doesn’t mean we can’t talk.

You’d quickly established ground rules: messages would only be exchanged after midnight, never two nights in a row, no calls, and — most importantly — Nathan would never find out.

Okay, Javi had said. Just one more rule: don’t use his name with me.

To your right, Nathan snores, the singular catch of an inhale in his throat, and the noise jolts you, face heating as if you’ve been caught.

Then he shifts, turns on his side, away from you. You feel a strange wash of relief. A semblance of privacy that you shouldn’t be after.

You respond to Javier with your tongue between your teeth.

You [2:04am]: thinking about me doing what?

Javi [2:06am]: Riding me. Your tits in my face. My hands on your ass.

Your breath catches, attention abruptly pulled to the incessant throbbing between your legs.

You definitely shouldn’t sneak to the bathroom and touch yourself. Shouldn’t send Javi a grainy photo of your fingers in your panties. Shouldn’t make yourself cum with your ex-lover’s name on your lips.

Not for the third time this week.

But when your cunt inadvertently clenches around nothing, your judgment is suddenly clouded.

With one last glance at the sleeping form beside you, you clamber to your feet and tiptoe down the hallway, wetness dripping down your thighs as you go.

The bathroom door closes with a quiet click. You fumble for the lightswitch, eyes reflexively squeezing shut when the room brightens.

You hover over the sink, steadying yourself against porcelain with one hand while you type furiously with the other.

You [2:10am]: yeah? you wanna suck on my tits?

The mirror parallel you reflects something out of a thriller, your pupils fully dilated and your forehead glistening with sweat. You almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at you in all her depravity.

You slump to the floor. Rest with your back to the side of the tub.

Javi [2:11am]: Dying to. Always felt so fucking perfect in my mouth.

Desperate fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, into your panties. The phone balances precariously in your other hand, thumb stumbling over buttons on the keypad.

You [2:12am]: I miss your cock.

Javi [2:13am]: That’s right, querida. Best you ever had, huh?

You [2:13am]: Yes. Always made me feel so fucking good.

Javi [2:15am]: Fuck. Are you touching yourself?

You swirl two digits at your entrance, amply coating them in your slick before dragging them up to your swollen clit. You can’t stifle the moan that slips past your lips.

You [2:16am]: yes

Javi [2:16am]: good girl

The phone distractedly tumbles from your grasp, clinking against tile as you begin to work yourself toward the brink.

And then — there’s a knock on the bathroom door.

The room spins, walls suddenly shrinking in on you as you wrench your hand out of your panties. Nathan’s voice on the other side is muffled, by the exhaust fan and by the ringing in your ears. But you can just decipher his words, his voice laden with sleep.

“Babe? Are you okay? I thought I heard-“

“Fine, I’m uh, I’m fine,” you say, scrambling to your feet, wiping wet fingers on your shorts.

The doorknob jostles, and it dawns on you then that you’d forgotten to fucking lock it.

“No! Don’t come in,” you sputter. The door hitches, less than an inch cracked. “I just had a stomach ache, but I’m okay now. I’ll be back in bed in a minute.”

“Oh.” He yawns. Pulls it shut again. “Okay.”

You brace yourself against the sink, struggling to slow your racing heart.

With a flush of the empty toilet, Nathan’s footsteps recede down the hall and out of earshot. You wash your hands, then, fingers shaking under the stream of lukewarm water.

You dry them hastily, not bothering to pick up the towel when it slides off the rail and onto the floor.

You [2:21am]: gotta go. sorry.

Javi [2:22am]: ???

Nathan is far too kind the following morning. He sets a plate of buttered toast and a mug of peppermint tea out for you on the kitchen table, and presses a nauseatingly gentle kiss to your forehead as you eat.

His amber eyes scan you like he’s searching for any indicators that you’re still hurting, fingers anxiously carding through his sandy hair.

You’re sure he’s clocked the dark circles marking your undereyes — not that he knows the real reason for them.

“I’m fine,” you promise when you feel him staring.

“Are you sure?” he probes. “The noise you made was…intense; you sounded really pained.”

Pained? Not exactly.

“I know.” You stuff the last bite of toast into your mouth. Tilt the empty plate toward him.

“But I’m okay; see? Even have an appetite this morning. It was just a weird bug or something.”

The lie burns on the way out, scalds your throat. But Nathan buys it. Doesn’t ask any further questions.

Still, he tells you to take it easy today on his way out the door.

You can’t look him in the eye when you insist that you will.

You call out of work, too sick with self-loathing to show your face in the office. Instead, you mope around all day, attempt to distract yourself with the overflowing hamper of laundry in the closet.

It’s futile though, your brain paralyzed by thoughts of Nathan finding out about the affair, and the clothes remain unwashed.

He returns that evening with a plastic bag in his clutch, the local pharmacy’s logo printed on the front.

“Here,” he says, pulling out a brand new heating pad. “I realized last night that we didn’t have one of these laying around.”

You know, at that moment, that you need to end things with Javi.

Nathan is good to you. He loves you with actions, not just words. Thinks of you before he thinks of himself, in every situation. And you — you’re cheating on him. Taking advantage of him. Not even trying to be what he deserves.

You’ll try harder. To love him, to think of him. No longer will you give in to brainless, animalistic needs. Surely, you can mimic the passion you have with someone else if you just try.

Try, try, try. You can do it.

Sleep evades you that night, coming in brief stints and leaving you breathless when you wake.

In those conscious moments, the analog clock in the corner of the room taunts you, glaring red neon making your head pound.

After three straight hours of tossing and turning, you decide it can’t wait any longer.

You fish your cellphone off the nightstand. Snap it open.

You [3:23am]: We need to end this before things get ugly.

You’re sure he won’t be awake this late; not without reason. But then — the screen blinks.

Javi [3:24am]: Nothing’s going to get ugly. Please, cariño.

You [3:24am]: I almost got caught last night. I don’t want to hurt him.

Javi [3:25am]: Can we talk about this? Javi [3:25am]: In person?

Your heart palpitates. For a moment, you swear it stops altogether.

You [3:26am]: What the hell? No Javi, I can’t.

Javi [3:27am]: C’mon. Just talk. Don’t you think you owe me that?

Your eyes flit to Nathan.

You watch him for a long moment: the steady rise and fall of his chest, the slouch of his shoulders, the gape of his mouth.

He’s well and truly asleep. You’re sure you could sneak away without him waking. Slip out the door and get a cab to Javier’s, talk things through, and be back in bed before the sun rises — before Nathan even knows you’ve left.

And then everything will be just as it was before you messed this up. You can leave Javi in the past, where he belongs.

Of course, you’re not just going to talk. Deep in your bones, you know that. Know that when he’s there in front of you, you’ll be too weak to resist any of his advances.

Still, you play coy. Ignore the spring of excitement tightening in your abdomen.

In a move of finality, one which you know you won’t be able to come back from, you stand. Make your way into your closet to pull some pants and a t-shirt on, your cell phone clutched in your hand.

You [3:30am]: Fine.

Javier sends you his address — as if you’d have forgotten it. As if the name of his apartment complex isn’t permanently etched behind your eyelids, along with the wide slope of his shoulders and the plush of his bottom lip.

When the cab pulls up to the curb, the driver is visibly concerned. His bushy, gray brows thread together and his narrowed eyes catch yours in the rearview more than once on the drive across town.

It’s only when you reach Javi’s building and hand over your fare that the man speaks.

“Are you alright, sweetheart? Quite late for you to be out on your own.”

His voice crackles, the smell of cigarette smoke heavy on his breath, and it’s strangely comforting.

“Yeah,” you promise as you push the door open and step out.

He rolls his window down, anxiously watching as you maneuver your way to the front door. And then he’s driving off, headlights vanishing into the thick night.

Javier lets you up on the first buzz. He’s waiting for you in the entryway of his apartment, leaning with a large hand pressed to the doorframe.

Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him: shirtless, bronze skin cast in the dim yellow light of the corridor.

His eyes rake over you the moment you’re in front of him, lingering when they catch on your collarbone, your breasts, your legs. He looks so imposing like this. You find yourself unable to move; frozen under his silent, lustful gaze.

“Are you — can I come in?” you ask meekly.

He nods then, a slow lift of his chin. Steps backward into darkness. You will yourself to take one step, and then another, following him over the threshold and past the point of no return.

It feels so odd to be here, in his space, with the intention of doing anything other than fucking. If you look close enough, you swear you can make out the shape of your body imprinted in the couch cushions, can hear lingering echoes of climaxes reached with your face shoved into one of his decorative pillows — can feel them, too.

Arousal pulls between your thighs. You ignore it.

You wonder how many other women have been here since you, have taken Javi in their hands or their mouths or their cunts. How many names that aren’t yours has he chanted in the throes of passion?

And — moreover — why do you care?

You don’t. You definitely don’t.

Javi pours you a glass of wine, fills a crystal with whiskey for himself. He flicks a lamp on, casting the room in an orange glow, and settles into the couch You follow his lead, perching yourself on one of the arm rests apprehensively.

“So,” you start. “About what we’ve been…doing-“

He cuts you off with a quirk of his brow, a flinch of his jaw.

“Javi,” you try again. “This has to — we can’t-”

“You’re sure you want to break it off, cariño?” His voice comes out low, dark.

And the thing is — you’re not sure. You wish you were, wish you had the strength to tell him definitively that it’s over, to go home to your boyfriend and block Javi’s number on the way out.

But the flex of his bicep when he hooks his arm behind his head, the knowing smirk playing on his lips, his cock — which you can’t see, but know is long and thick under his jeans — it all makes your head feel heavy.

You let the weight of it drop between your shoulders, hang there as you silently search for just a particle of sanity left in your being. You come up empty.

“Fuck,” you hiss, claw your fingers into your scalp. “This is — fuck.”

Leather groans under Javi’s weight. He stands. Steps in front of you.

You don’t dare look at him, not until he pinches your chin between two fingers and forces your gaze to meet his. His eyes are charcoal-black, something devious swimming behind blown pupils.

“Baby,” he croons. “Why did you really come here?”

You play dumb. “What do you mean? To — to talk.”

His thumb skates along the underside of your jaw, soft and placating.

“We’re not really gonna talk — are we?”

Your head spins, mind clouded by Javier’s words, his touch. You sense yourself losing resolve just as he pulls you upright by both hands.

You’re so close like this; can taste the whiskey on his breath, can feel the warmth of his exhale against your skin.

His mouth moves to the shell of your ear, voice a mere whisper when he speaks again.

“Wanna know what I think, querida?” he asks, palm flattening at your lower back, pushing you flush against him. “I think you came here because texting wasn’t enough anymore, huh? Think you missed me.”

And the truth is, you have missed him — painfully so. You’ve missed the timbre of his voice, the caress of his hands, the stretch of his cock. All just in reach, tangible for the first time in so long.

Your need for him borders on carnal. The feeling snakes its way up from your stomach into the cavern of your ribcage, splays its weight across your delicate, pounding heart.

And then the rational part of your brain whirs weakly to life.

What are you doing?

“I have a boyfriend,” you say. You’re not sure who you’re reminding.

“Mhm,” Javi mutters, deft fingers peeling the fabric of your t-shirt up, up, up your body. You don’t stop him.

“And does your boyfriend —“ he kneels down, presses a kiss where exposed skin meets denim — “make you feel as good as I do, cariño?”

You can’t answer that. It wouldn’t be right. Because any of this is.

“Javi — I,” you try, cut off abruptly by dull teeth in the flesh of your waist. You yelp, the sweet sting quickly dissipating as he pauses. Pulls back.

“You can say it,” he goads with a wicked smirk. “I won’t tell him.”

“He — no,” the words leave you before you even feel them in your mouth, and then you’re cursing yourself. You can’t take it back — it’s too late. Javi knows, you know. The only one still in the dark is Nathan.

Javier says your name. His tone is different, soberingly serious.

“Tell me to stop.”

Fuck.

“Tell me to stop,” he repeats, “and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t,” you whisper, so quiet you barely hear yourself.

“Cariño-”

“I can’t,” you stammer, louder. “I — fuck, Javi. Please.”

“Please?”

He knows what you’re asking for; he just needs to hear you say it.

“Please fuck me.”

In an instant, he’s standing back up, grasping at your sides and impatiently guiding you onto the couch. He brackets you against the cushions, one hand splayed next to your head on the backrest, the other popping the button of your jeans open.

You lift your ass as he tugs them down your legs, pulls them past your ankles and leaves them in a heap on the floor. And then he’s moving down your body, kneeling at your altar and prying you open for him.

You surrender to him willingly, desperation growing when he pulls your panties aside and gazes at your glistening sex, transfixed by you.

“This gorgeous pussy,” he hums, leaning down to taste you.

“Yeah?” you breathe. “You miss it?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he groans. Dips his tongue into the apex of your heat, refamiliarizing himself with your nectar before licking a languid stripe up to your throbbing clit.

You writhe under him, beg with wordless whines and whimpers for more. He knows your sounds, knows their tells, soothes you with a gentle shh against your cunt.

His lips wrap around your clit, then, envelope it completely as he starts to suckle, and the sudden sensation makes you buck your hips.

“Javi — fuck, oh — holy-”

He retreats, mouth shiny with your arousal. “What is it, baby? Your boyfriend doesn’t eat your pussy like this?”

“He doesn’t,” you admit breathlessly. Javi clicks his tongue. Faux-pouts at you.

His lips reattach to your clit and you curse.

“Fuck, Javi, he — he’s never-“

The half-admission stops him in his tracks. He stares back up at you with narrowed eyes.

“Cariño, don’t tell me he doesn’t go down on you?”

Your face heats. “He — he says he doesn’t like to do it.”

Suddenly, Javi looks livid.

His fingernails dig into the meat of your inner thighs mindlessly. You watch his lip twitch and his eyes roll to the ceiling.

He’s unaffected by much these days — but Javi clearly doesn’t take kindly to a man not pleasuring his woman. Especially when you are the woman in question.

“Pendejo,” he murmurs.

“Javi,” you whine. “Please.”

Your pleading voice seems to snap him out of it. Or at least remind him of the task at hand.

He returns his attention to your dripping pussy with one final huff. “Gonna take care of you baby, don’t worry.”

You anchor yourself with fingers of one hand twisted in the dark, sweaty curls at the crown of his head. Two digits on the other pinch at one of your hardened nipples, just as Javier begins to swipe his tongue back and forth over your clit.

“Fuck,” you sigh, draping your trembling legs over his shoulders.

He licks your cunt like he fears you’re going to melt, lathes over your clit again and again with the wide flat of his tongue. The wet squelch of him slurping at you, eager to catch every last drop of your arousal, bounces off the walls obscenely.

You hope, fleetingly, that his neighbors are heavy sleepers. Better yet, that they’re out of town.

Maybe he’s putting in extra effort because he knows now that your boyfriend isn’t doing this for you at home. Or maybe he’s just better at it than you remember. Regardless, you find yourself completely overcome with ecstasy, close to falling apart on Javi’s tongue in a matter of minutes.

As soon as he curls two fingers into your cunt, you’re gone, cumming so hard your vision pulls and your thighs shake.

You sing Javi’s name like a hymn. It rolls off your tongue effortlessly, naturally. Like it’s made for you to recite.

He lets you come down, soothes you with gentle hands stroking along your thighs, soft lips pressed to your sensitive mound.

When your breathing evens, he lifts off of his haunches, motions for you to lay flat on the couch with your neck supported by the armrest. And then he shucks his pants off, his cock immediately springing up to his stomach, a trail of precum dripping down his navel.

You’d forgotten how gorgeous it was — the heady, pink tip shiny with arousal, veins running along the underside of the thick base prominent. It twitches in interest as Javier leans down to kiss you, prods against your slick inner thigh when his tongue presses into yours.

You hook your legs around his back, desperately attempting to pull him closer, attempting to drag him into your achingly empty cunt.

He grins against your lips, hand moving between your bodies to guide himself to your entrance.

“Impaciente,” he mumbles.

You whine, nails digging into his shoulders. “Please Javi, need it.”

“Yeah?” He pauses with his cockhead right at your seam. “How bad?”

“Fuck — so bad, need it so bad.” Your nails burrow deeper into flesh. He hisses.

“God damn, querida; that much, huh?”

“Yes, Javi,” you groan. “Please just-”

He bottoms out in one deep thrust, effectively knocking the air out of your lungs. You moan in unison, his head falling against your shoulder as he slowly begins to move.

Your cunt sucks him in greedily, clenching around him over and over again. It’s intoxicating, the feeling of his cock nudging your g-spot with every roll of his hips. You wonder how you went so long without this. Fear you won’t be able to again.

He pulls all the way out and snaps into you before setting a new, brutal pace, one that leaves you babbling underneath him.

The room grows palpably warmer, white heat licking at your neck, your chest, your back — where it sticks to leather. You find yourself lost in the way your bodies move together; a dance you’ve done so many times before; one you’d perfected all those months ago.

“Shit,” Javi slurs. “Take me so well, cariño. Like you’re — ahh — made for me.”

I am, you want to say.

“Fuck,” you moan instead, “so good, baby. Feels so fucking good.”

And it does. You’re going to snap soon, going to cum for a second time, soak his cock.

You tighten around him, a silent warning. He slips out and you whine at the loss. But then he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, spreading you wider for him and delving back in at a new angle that makes you scream.

You can feel it building now, like a snowball in your abdomen. You can’t fight it, can barely warn Javi, his name spilling brokenly from your throat as your orgasm crests.

He talks you through it with praises whispered in your ear. So beautiful, princesa — that’s it. So pretty when you fall apart on my cock. There you go; let it all out, baby.

Fucked-out and boneless, you beg for Javi to please cum inside.

He growls, low and primal, gripping tightly to the flesh of your waist as his thrusts begin to falter. “That what you want, querida? Want to — shit — want to go back to your boyfriend with me dripping out of you?”

“Yes,” you chant thoughtlessly, yes, yes, yes.

“Dirty. Fucking. Girl.” he grits, each word punctuated by a jerk of his hips.

He spills inside you with his teeth in the crook of your neck. There’s so much of it, filling your cunt, leaking out around his cock and onto leather. It sates you in a way you didn’t know possible, as if your womb needs to be claimed by him and only him. Nobody else will do.

You almost resent the feeling of your eyesight returning and your breaths steadying. You don’t want to come down — not if it means you need to go home.

But the sky outside is turning purple, bruising with the threat of a new day on the horizon, and you know your time together is nearly up.

“Javi,” you mutter, his chest still heaving against yours, cock softening inside you.

“Up.”

He shifts, pulls out in a devastating loss, and retreats to the opposite side of the couch.

You begin to knead the muscles in your aching calves, Javi fumbling with the pack of cigarettes on the side table next to him. He takes one out and lights it, the end glowing faintly.

“What do we do?” you ask. He rubs at the crease in his forehead, definitely set there by years of chasing after drug cartels. Maybe also by running away from meaningful conversation with you.

“You can’t go back to him,” he mumbles.

You scoff. “I can’t? I have to Javi, Nathan is my-“

“Don’t say his name,” he snaps, abruptly ashing his cigarette and turning to face you. He looks wrecked, his eyes wide and his lips downturned.

“What do you want from me, Javi?” you bite, pulling your panties back into place and reaching for your jeans where they lay on the floor. “You want me to be at your beck and call forever? Cheat on him until one of us dies?”

“I —“ Javi sighs. “No.”

“Then what?” You pull your pants on: one leg, then the other. Pull your shirt back down to cover your breasts.

“I — want you.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva.

“What?”

“All of you,” he clarifies. “When I saw you with him for the first time in that grocery store — my heart sank. I didn’t — didn't realize how serious my feelings were for you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have let you end things that day.”

He stands. Braces pleading hands on your shoulders.

“I know I’m an asshole,” he continues. “I thought I could never be someone’s partner. That I wouldn’t…wouldn’t be good. How could I be when I’ve done so much bad in my life?”

You sink into his touch. His words.

“Javi-“

“No, cariño — I need you to hear this. I want to be good for you, know I can be. I’ll do anything. I just — I can’t let you get away again.”

You feel as if you’ve just been struck by an arrow. Or, more accurately, a train. Your bones hurt and your insides twist.

You’re silent for a long moment, watching as his eyes desperately search yours. You know you need to say something eventually, put him out of his misery, but you’re too afraid to find out what happens next.

The undeniable fact that you want to be with him too is almost too much to bear. You’ll have to break it off with Nathan, split his heart in half. He doesn’t deserve it, you think, over and over.

But then, maybe you don’t deserve to remain unhappy. Unfulfilled.

Maybe you need to hurt him once in order to stop repeatedly hurting yourself.

“You’re good, Javier,” you say then. “You’re a good man. You deserve good.”

“Yeah?” his voice cracks. Tears prick in the corners of his eyes. He retracts them with a deep breath in.

You grab the sides of his face. “Yes. And I — I want you too.”

Javier kisses you, so deep you think your lips might bruise. There’s finality in it — you’re his and he’s yours — and no longer will you pretend that’s not the case.

He drives you back to your place, unwilling to let his girl get in another cab alone before daylight.

Laredo looks beautiful at dawn, all dozing buildings and empty roads. You pass by your workplace and groan at the realization that you’ll have to be back there in a few hours; you can’t call out again. A stack of unfiled reports will surely be waiting for you atop your desk.

That dread doesn’t last long, though, not when you look to the man in the driver’s seat, the one who makes your mouth water and your heart skip.

When he catches your gaze, corner of his mouth turning up at you mischievously, you know for certain that everything will work out just fine.

Javi turns onto your street slowly, moreso than he needs to, a possessive hand gripping your thigh.

“Will you let me know how it goes?” he asks when the car pulls up to the curb.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I mean, I think it’s safe to say it won’t go well, but-“

“I know. But if he gives you any more trouble than he needs to, you call me.”

Your eyes flit up to your bedroom window, blinds drawn up and curtains pulled aside. The room is still dark, Nathan no doubt still asleep.

You’ll go up in a second. After you kiss Javier one more time.

He seems taken aback when your lips catch his, maybe because it’s crazy to do this here, now. But you can’t help it. Can’t keep your hands — or your mouth — off of him now that you have him.

He relaxes into it after just a second, licking into your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand moving from your thigh to the back of your head to hold you against him.

And then — he abruptly pulls away.

“Shit,” he curses, staring wide-eyed at the window.

You follow his eyeline, freezing when you see what he sees: Nathan, tall and shadowy, looking straight at you.

“Well,” Javi laughs nervously, “I think he knows.”

end notes: ty so much for reading! pls consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment if you enjoyed :)

tag list: @janaispunk @kajashe @amanitacowboy @planet-marz1 @littlegrungegirlaf @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @wethairjoel @catchallfangirl @pamasaur

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devilmademewriteit · 1 year

Text

Salvatore

pairing: javier peña x afab!fem!reader

summary: a secretary with an attitude problem, a DEA agent with an insolence problem. years ago, you'd stopped hoping for his character to improve, but he's still gunning to set you straight. it’s the worst day of your life, and javier peña aims to take advantage of that.

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, oral [m receiving]) so 18+ only content, fem afab reader, mentions of reader having long hair, bratty!reader, brat-tamer!javi, alcohol consumption, smoking, pet names, (so much smoking, I’m sorry but it’s narcos), dubcon (slight intoxication, coercion if you really, really squint)

beta reader: @millllenniawrites that’s BABIE

word count: 10.3k (imsosorry)

no use of y/n in this fic

hey y’all ! i said i had a longer javi fic in store and i was not kidding lmfao !!! slight warning, the reader is a bit of an asshole so teaaaaa. anyhow, don’t forget to join the taglist if you’re nasty, and feedback & comments are always welcome mwah mwah -em<3

PS: to my non-canadian readers, a dart is a cigarette lmao

—

Read Part 2: Playing Dangerous

—

Nothing ever went to plan with Peña around.

It was a curse. A nightmare. You were so careful with your agenda, making sure meetings with the ambassador happened on time, every time, and uninterrupted. When that didn’t happen? It was your ass on the line. And when that didn’t happen? It was always because of agent Peña.

“I can’t let you in, right now,” you hiss, tired of repeating yourself. “She specifically told me not to let people in. Not to let you in,” you add, pointing a finger at his chest.

“Aw, c’mon,” Peña’s murmured supplication rolls off his tongue, “It’s real important.”

You huff indignantly. Keeping your voice low, you retort, “Every time it’s life or death, Peña—”

“Why don’t you ever call me Javier, sweetheart?” A playful twinkle dances in his twilit eyes. “You’ve known me longer than any of the other girls I’m on a first name basis with, here.”

It was true. You’d been working at the embassy for ages, now, babysitting big-headed politicians or power-drunk DEA agents and soldiers. Peña was the worst of them all, solely in virtue of the fact that he knew he could get away with everything. Men loved him because he was tough, charismatic, and capable; women loved him because he was tough, charismatic, capable, and looked like a vintage pornstar. It only took you a month at the job to grow violently sick of hearing his name cherished on the lips of your female coworkers, forced to listen to the gorey details of nearly every. single. office. conquest.

But that wasn’t even the worst of it.

The worst might’ve been when his ‘informants’ called, their mewling voices asking to leave a message for ‘Javi.’ Or, it might’ve been the culminating effect of his reaping the rewards, time after time, for his insolence, gaining respect, praise, pussy—and all because he never fucking listened.

Years came and went, and somewhere down the line you’d accepted that Javier Peña was simply destined to be a lifelong affliction.

Now, standing before you in his ruffled, tan button-up, his loosely unkempt hair cascading into his eyes, he reminds you of a lost, stray cat.

He was anything but.

Receptionists, assistants, secretaries… you had long been the secret-keepers of the world. It wasn’t that you were ignorant of the part you played in the DEA’s more indelicate proceedings; but, still, you maintained that there was a clear difference between transferring phone calls or scheduling meetings and torturing men to death for information.

Gazing into Peña’s umber eyes only flooded your head with scenes of casual violence—no doubt, they were a sight, which always made you wonder how many times they’d been someone’s last.

You’d heard stories.

Sucking in a lengthy inhalation, your glare meets his roguish expression.

“I will call you 'Javier',” you counter, soaking his name in scorn, “When you stop calling me 'sweetheart'.” He smirks at that, leaning his palms on your desk, forearms flexing as they face you. “And 'angel',” you persist. “And 'darling' and 'doll' and 'hey you' and whatever else you’ve called me over the years.”

A smile. “Never realized you were keeping a list.” You roll your eyes. “If only you’d told me, angel, I’d’ve been more creative.”

You sigh, increasingly irritated by his imposition. Leaning back to cross your arms and legs, you torture him with silence.

“You’re seriously not gonna let me in?”

The slight, entitled whine underpinning his tone brings you immense satisfaction. You shake your head, ‘nope', and watch his mustache twitch impatiently in response.

Peña takes a second to gather his thoughts before rapping his knuckles against the hardwood, loosing a huff of irritation.

“Know what your problem is, sweetheart?” He muses, his stare shadowed under thick eyebrows.

“No, I don't, Peña,” you reply sardonically, curling your hands under your chin, beaming at him in mock engrossment. “Please, do indulge me.”

He smirks. “You’re wound up wayyy too tight.” He eats you alive with a mere look. “And someday? Someone’s gonna have to break you in.”

“If you gave me the honour,” the agent continues, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low purr as he stoops to lean over you, shirt creasing around the broad muscles of his shoulders.

“I’d have you screamin’ my name like a prayer.”

Words fail you. Gaping up at his sinful expression, you’re wide-eyed, lips parting softly in surprise—he drinks in his effect, watching you squirm below him like a mouse caught in a trap.

Despite your rocky history, you can’t help your intrigue at the invitation burning right there in his eyes, tempting… and… promising—

The ambassador’s doors whoosh open, causing you to jump in your seat. Jolting up, you clumsily rearrange your stationary, suddenly very preoccupied with adjusting your skirt, your collar, your hair. Peña straightens casually, tightening his tie and clearing his throat as a flighty officer emerges from the office, quickly disappearing down the hall.

Ambassador Noonan appears in the doorway. She fixes her exasperated gaze on your most unwelcome guest.

“Ambassador,” Peña greets, his flirtatious baritone blanketing you like a wave of thick, late-August air. “Your assistant was just about to send me in.”

Rage joins the confusing cocktail of emotions swirling in your middle as your cheeks grow red-hot.

“Give her a break, Peña,” Noonan scoffs, strolling back into her office. “Or I’ll have you on desk duty til’ next year.”

“It’s urgent, ambassador,” Peña calls after her, suddenly serious. There’s a loaded silence before a grumbled ‘two minutes’ echoes from inside the room.

You hate when he wins.

He saunters in without a glance, without a word, sealing the big doors shut behind him.

Dropping your forehead to your desk, the cool hardwood relieves the stubborn hotness under your skin. Your thoughts race faster than you can endeavour to keep up with.

What was that?

It wasn’t unusual for your feelings to run wild whenever the two of you went head to head, but never before had Peña gotten you… excited.

Tempted.

Were you going insane?

Or, maybe—just maybe… was the fucker right? It had been some time since you’d allowed yourself an unhealthy indulgence.

Still, the thought of Peña being right about anything was fundamentally incompatible with your psychological makeup.

So, you try to snap out of it.

You hated Peña. You hated his car, his clothes, and his watch. You hated his stupid mustache and the crinkles that formed by his eyes when he laughed in big, hearty heaves. You hated his velvet-smooth voice and his fluffy hair and his massive, toned shoulders and his full, pouty, teasing lips and—

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.

You hated nothing more than yourself, in that moment, unable to purge your mind of the agent, his corrupted expression etched on the back of your eyelids as if Michelangelo had carved him there himself.

—

Rolled cigarettes aside, your most reproachful habit was taking (conderably lengthy) lunch breaks in your shit-box Chevrolet. On one hand, the solitude allowed an escape from the frantic embassy environment; on the other hand, your isolation left you vulnerable, at the mercy of whoever decided to accost you, processing the always headache-inducing events of the morning in the driver’s seat of your car. It happened all-too-frequently: a disgruntled diplomat tapping at the glass post-meeting to snap at you for your boss’s rigidity.

Get me a meeting with someone else, girl.

(How about you get a real job, dick?)

Feet up on the dash, you’re tuned in to the low hums crackling off the old radio speakers, seat down, eyes closed for the ultimate unwinding experience. It's not perfect: the passenger side window had recently developed the unfortunate habit of sliding open (no matter how hard you forced it closed, writing an internal manifesto to GMC motors), so your mid-day meditations were punctuated by road-rage-induced swear words and honks.

Over and over a single sentence floats to the forefront of your mind, surfacing above all else: let this interminable day be over.

You nearly jump out of your skin when a brisk knock rattles the glass by your head.

White guy. Blonde hair. Scraggly mustache.

Murphy.

You take your time putting your seat back to an upright position, carefully lowering your feet to rest atop the floor pedals. Then, you crank the window down, kicking yourself for not choosing a more secluded location.

He smirks, no doubt amused by your spa-like, lunchtime activities. His strange (but not necessarily unpleasant) appearance always reminded you of a children’s cartoon character.

“Should’ve opted for a desk-job,” he teases.

You roll your eyes, and, instead of even giving him the gift of your full attention, you watch intently as a grey Ford pickup struggles to parallel park, half a block up the street.

“If you had to deal with cops like you and Peña for a living, you’d do the same, believe me.”

And you were beyond serious. Peña’s little stunt this morning had caused every damn meeting in Noonan’s already packed schedule to shift by not two, not ten, but twenty minutes. You’d been sworn at six times by ten-thirty.

Murphy nods in reluctant acknowledgement. “I’m guessing that means you’re not in the mood to do me any favours?”

An exasperated sigh. “Depends on what it is, I guess.”

Grimness settles over his features, a stark reminder of the nature of his job. He’s apprehensive in his delivery, already anticipating your wrath. “I need access to records.”

Of course he does. Immediately, you’re scowling.

“And why would I have that kind of clearance?” Your brazenness doesn’t shock him, but he flinches nonetheless. “Christ,” you seethe, “Sometimes I feel like the whole fucking world thinks I’m, like… Ali Baba, or some shit.”

That strange comparison entices a slow smile from him. It’s hard for you not to laugh at yourself, either, but you do your best to swallow it down, to hold to your contempt.

“I was just wondering if you could get me the right documents so that I could get clearance, Ali Baba.”

The corners of your lips lift, betraying your lingering ire. Murphy gives you a sympathetic kind of look, the kind that reminds you of a golden retriever, begging for scraps from the dinner table.

Oh, fuck it.

Murphy was always more pleasant than his counterpart, anyways. It felt alright to reward him for his good behaviour.

“Fine.”

He grins in celebration.

Damn it, you’re too nice.

Gotta stand your ground, somehow. “Tomorrow,” you add.

Murphy cringes. “Kinda need it today.”

“Well I can’t do it today, so it’s going to be tomorrow, alr—”

“What can’t we do today?”

Peña’s interjection through the half-open, defective passenger side window makes you jump for the second time in five minutes—this time, you kick yourself for choosing to put off that repair job. Before you can process, or even protest his arrival, he’s unlocked the door from the inside and climbed into the passenger seat. Leaning casually against the inside of the door, he looks arrogant as ever with his arms crossed, big biceps swelling under the fabric of his tan button-up.

And he’s leering at your addled state, feigned innocence dancing in those big, brown eyes.

Murphy stifles a snort.

“Get out of my car, Peña,” you grind out.

“Shouldn’t be driving this,” he muses, running his fingers along the hot, hard plastic of the dash. “Bad engines—what’s your address? We could carpool—I’d pick you up—y’know, get coffee…”

Murphy can’t help himself; he chuckles aloud at Peña’s goading. You round on him, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“That laugh just cost you your precious form, asshole.”

And you crank the window up, tuning out his stammered “naw, c’mon, j's wait—” until it becomes nothing more than white noise, something you could easily fall asleep to.

“Aw, don’t be like that, sweetheart,” Peña placates, “I’m just playing around.”

Murphy wanders off, no doubt scheming up his next attempt at persuading you into giving him what he so badly wanted, leaving you completely alone with his loathsome partner.

Right now and forever, it’s the last place you want to be.

“That’s all you do though, isn’t it?” You snap. “You and your little American—‘play around.’ Is the world just a big amusement park for guys like you? I mean, is anything ever real to you?”

He raises a testy eyebrow at that.

“You think that’s what we do?”

“I don’t really care what you do, Peña.” Reclining your seat, you close your eyes and cross your arms over your chest: a clear indication that you’d reached the end of your conversation.

“Yeah, you sure love saying that.”

It’s a struggle to keep your eyes closed at the rustling of his clothing. Your more hopeful side convinces itself that the agent might actually be on his way out of the Chevy; but, there’s a metallic clink, and your heart sinks as the smell of tobacco creeps up your nose.

So, he was planning to stay.

“Look, angel,” he drawls, “All we need’s a simple form. S’it.” There’s a pause as he takes a drag. When he continues, his voice is strained, constricting around the smoke. “No need for all this… prude shit.”

Tasting acid, seeing red, you spring up, addressing him head-on with a violent twist to the side. And he’s enjoying this, the bastard—relaxed as ever in the face of a wildfire, aiming to set him alight.

“You are the single most—”

At first you think it’s fireworks.

Your lungs empty out, burning as the force of a large hand, slammed against your chest, drains you of every last drop of oxygen. It flattens you against the worn-out fabric of the driver’s seat. You intend to shout as anger, fear, and surprise overwhelm you, but a palm claps over your mouth, muffling any possibility of sound. Pena’s half-smoked cigarette falls to the floor of the vehicle, tumbling clumsily past your cheek.

He hovers over you, deep-brown eyes enriched by an unfamiliar seriousness—a warning.

“Stay down and shut up,” he growls under his breath.

Almost reflexively, you’re nodding. You’d never heard that tone from him before, no doubt the same one he used to give his men orders. Stilling under the weight of his upper body, you focus your energy on controlling the volume of your hoarse exhalations as his hand slides off of your lips.

Carefully, he reaches down and over to his waistband, bringing out his handheld transceiver.

“Murphy.” His breath fans over your collarbones, seeping right through your dampened skin and into your rattling bones. You’re almost certain he can hear the fast drum of your heartbeat.

There’s a quiet crackling, and then a soft click followed by a grumbled, “Stay down. We’re tryna get eyes on him.”

Peña continues to shield you from view. You try your best not to meet his look of concentration—but, oh, the furrow of his brow, that worried slant at the corner of his lips—it pulls you in, asking to be studied with fascination.

You’d never seen him so focussed.

You’d never seen him in the field, either.

It could’ve been hours, trapped under the agent’s forearm, sweat prickling at the skin of your overlaid bodies. He grows dewy from the exertion of planking over you and the stifling heat of the Colombian sun.

You’re not quite sure why you suddenly feel so hot.

Maybe it’s those other scenarios you’re unable to stop yourself from conjuring up, in which you might find yourself crushed under the weight of the agent. Your traitorous mind designs the fantasies, projecting the scenes like x-rated movies inside your head.

So, you avoid looking at his eyes. And the triangle of tan, wet skin peeking out from beneath his unbuttoned collar. And the hard muscles pressing into your trembling form. Those, too.

When that doesn’t work, you think about bugs.

Your harmonized breathing is eventually interrupted by the crackle of static.

“We lost him–must’ve got picked up.” The frustration in his voice is evident. “But, anyways, you’re clear.”

Peña’s broad thumb presses into the device as he grunts, “You sure?”

After a beat, he gets his response.

“I’d risk your life, Peña, not the secretary’s.”

He smirks ever-so-subtly before shoving the transceiver back down his pocket. You find your voice, clearing your coarse throat as you try to tame the frantic butterflies in your stomach. “How nice of him.”

Your sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed. Peña traps you in his gaze—your stomach does a flip, catching the details of his rugged features as his nose hovers mere inches away from your own.

“Not even a ‘thank you, Javi’?”

Sickly sweetness battles alarm for control over your reply. “How about a ‘get the hell off me, ‘Javi’?”

After a smug smirk, he twists back to rest against the passenger seat. Still, he doesn’t take his eyes from you.

Plucking up his still-smoking cigarette, nearly at the filter, off the floor of the car, you remind yourself to breathe. There’s a heavy silence as you locate your lighter—as flame meets parted lips.

“Was it a gunshot, or do you make a habit of manhandling girls for fun?” You ask, dart dangling shakily from your lips as you huff a short pull. The jab does nothing to calm your nerves.

He lifts a hand to give his temples a brief rub. “You really want me to answer that?”

You nod, giving him a look with a bolded and italicized ‘obviously’ written all over it.

“Alright,” he extends a hand towards yours—you absentmindedly pass him the butt. He finishes it off before chucking it out the faulty window. “Some guy ten yards up had a piece pointed straight at your windshield. Didn’t feel like cleaning blood off of your dash, today, so forgive me for not being… gentle.”

The confirmation steals every rational thought from your reeling mind, every last modicum of oxygen from your lungs; you’re left quaking at the foot of your mounting fear.

So, understandably, your voice is an unsteady whisper when you choke out a, “My blood? Or yours?”

His face contorts, dark features growing strangely sympathetic. “Probably mine…” he takes a beat to piece together his thoughts. “But you do work at the embassy. Sicarios aren’t... specific with their targets.”

Despite the heat, a chill travels down your spine. Raising a trembling hand to your lips, you marvel at the feeling of being intact–-how precious that felt, all of a sudden.

“Probably mine, sweetheart,” he repeats, softly.

You nod, acknowledging his half-comfort. Peña pulls out the walkie-talkie once more.

“Can you get someone to walk her back inside?”

There’s a pause. A familiar song plays faintly over the radio: something you could easily hum along to but couldn’t quite name. And then, “Yeah—you wanna go after this guy?”

“Anyone who’s got the balls to pull this shit a block away from the embassy’s gotta be worth looking into,” Peña responds. Both he and Murphy sound so calm, as if this was nothing more than a routine check-in, as if this was just a regular day at the office.

Well, you remark, for them, it was.

The transceiver clicks off. A minute or two pass in tense, almost awkward silence. Finally, Peña clears his throat.

“About that form…”

Immediately, your terror is replaced by a more comfortable, more familiar ire as he continues on.

“Think you’d be willing to cooperate, now that I, y’know, saved your life?”

Incredible.

You gape at him in bewilderment. The adrenaline pumping all the way down to the tips of your fingers transforms into a different sort of beast—that bygone impulse to hide behind your hands becomes an overwhelming desire to wrap them around your company’s neck.

“Being in proximity with you almost cost me my life, Peña.” He opens his mouth to argue, but two officers appear, lining the driver’s side of the car. You pull the door handle towards you, harrumphing as you straighten up outside the Chevrolet.

When the both of you are free and standing, you whir on him, matching his look of disdain with your own.

“I owe you even less than I did before,” you spit across the roof of the car.

Saving yourself the trouble of his reaction, you cross the street without another word, heading back to the safety of the embassy with a dutiful soldier flanking you on either side.

But even once you’re in the air-conditioned hallways, between those thick, steel-supported walls, you’re angry and scared and confused—nothing seems to return to you your previous (and probably naive) sense of safety.

And somehow, that was Javier Peña’s fault.

—

Taking a long drag off your (twelfth) cigarette of the day, you savour the taste and the burn of the tobacco at the back of your tongue as you swallow down the smoke.

What a shitty fuckin’ shift.

Assassination attempts aside, you were to spend yet another late night at work because of some PR crisis you weren’t even totally sure you understood. Naturally, as the assistant, you were never relegated to the fun tasks—always on coffee duty, managing the phones, or playing the office shrink.

It was dull, useless work. Smoking alone in the darkness of the filing room was more interesting.

Maybe in another life, you were out on the streets, cleaning them up with your own two hands, handling things your way. In another life, you were in charge, calling the shots and firing them, too. Your mid-day fiasco had left you feeling completely inept and out of control—maybe a gun and some damn authority could change that.

It seemed to work for Murphy and Peña.

The former had already paid you a brief visit. ‘Couldn’t find him. We’ll be on it once all *this* shit blows over. Sure you don’t remember anything else?’

A corridor of light cascades down the other side of the room as the door creaks open, indicating that someone else had found your safe-haven.

Indicating that it was time to go.

Smudging the butt out on the crowded desk supporting you, you prepare for your re-emergence into the chaos. You scoot your way down the table, yanking down your pencil skirt once your feet hit the concrete floor. Without the dim light of your cigarette, you're engulfed in pitch-blackness with the door, now, shut. Fingertips extended before you, you feel your way around near-blindly, inching step-by-step towards (your rough estimation of the location of) the door.

You come into contact with something firm, tall, and very much alive.

“Wha-ow!” you yelp, losing balance and teetering back on your heels. A strong arm snakes behind your back, steadying your stumbling body. There’s a zip followed by a click as the stranger tugs on a wayward, dangling pull switch you hadn’t noticed on your own, and then a dusty, bare light bulb reveals the identity of your obstacle.

“You again?” You hiss.

“Are you smoking in here?” Peña returns, marvelling incredulously down at you.

You try to push yourself off of him, but his hold around your middle anchors you in place. He smells like men’s cologne and a dash of dark liquor. Neither of those scents had struck you earlier on in the day, even as his lips had hovered a mere inch above yours, nor when his body was pressed to your own like a damn weighted blanket. The drink was understandable, given him being… well, him, and the whole catastrophe—but, had he reapplied the perfume?

And why was that a relevant thought?

“Um, yeah?” You eventually respond, put-out by his bewilderment. Only a debaucher like Peña would have you penned as a square—likely, you were one, compared to his usual company and his own proclivity for debasement. “Am I under arrest? Last time I checked, my smoke breaks didn’t fall under your jurisdiction.”

He scoffs, but releases his hold. “You know, you have such a fuckin’ mouth on you.”

Despite the harshness of his words, a gentle hand secures you on your feet. The contrast is nothing if not jarring.

Straightening, crossing your arms, you put on your most brazen expression, doing your best to not appear flustered. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t flinch at the arrogance in your tone. “You know it’s crazy out there, right?”

“You think I came in here to admire the interior design?”

He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, brow furrowing with strain. You expect-–no, you almost want him to come back with a rude retort; instead, his exhaustion pushes him towards sincerity. “Look, shit’s just…” a low sigh, “It’s really gone south and I… needed a second.”

It takes a hot minute for it to dawn on you that Peña’s being civil, actually honest with you. A better person might’ve conceded, begrudgingly taken the white flag, maybe even gone in for a handshake to commemorate the temporary truce—

But you were not a better person.

And you just can’t help the sneer from creeping on. “The great Javier Peña needs a second—isn’t that cute. Guess it’s not all guns and shoot-outs and whores and—”

In a flash, the agent has your back flattened against a filing cabinet, two large hands splayed out on either side of your head. He ignores your soft gasp, shadowed eyes dancing with scorn and something even darker as he pins you to the metal.

Trapped underneath him for the second time in one, singular day.

Should’ve called in sick this morning, for fuck’s sake.

“Y’know,” he rumbles, and the depth of his baritone makes your knees wobble, “I’m getting the feeling you’re starting to be jealous of those ‘whores,’ the amount of times I’ve heard you bitch about them.”

A cold handle digs into your back, but you ignore the pinch, refusing to show any signs of weakness.

He wanted to play? Fine. You could play. What you lacked in size, you could always make up for in words. It was a lesson all women carried, a talisman of sorts.

You jut your chin up, adding punch to every consonant, every vowel. “You’re fucking delusional.”

“Yeah,” he snaps, “And you’re a fucking brat.”

There’s a pause as you stare into each other’s eyes, flame to fire, sword to dagger. Excitement builds under your skin—not the kind that you usually felt after receiving an insult, but the kind that had your core warming, your eyelids growing heavy.

It’s unwelcome and off-putting, horrifically out-of-character. You desperately try to push the sensation away.

“Peña—”

He cuts you off. “Brats make a good fuck, y’know. Always take it rough.”

You still, absorbing his crude words. That delicate bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs responds to his invitation against your better judgment, betraying you with every involuntary flutter.

The agent drinks in the way he has you squirming, unable to form an immediate response.

But you manage to reel yourself in, reminding yourself that losing to Peña far outweighed getting off. Self-control was a virtue, after all, and if you were going to win, at least one person in this dingy, old room had to have it.

It sure as hell wasn’t going to be the dark god leering down at you.

“This is a workplace, Peña,” you purr, tilting your chin up to sneer at him. “Not a brothel.”

An inconspicuous twitch at the corner of his mustache as fond nostalgia clouds his eyes. “S’never stopped me before.”

“Yeah,” you drawl, “I know.”

His low chuckle clears some of the tension suspended in the air between you. He eventually steps back, broad hands reaching out to re-adjust your blouse. You allow him the honour—if he was looking for a reaction, you weren’t going to satisfy his craving.

It feels abrupt when he drops his arms, humming an “enjoy your break, sweetheart,” and turning to leave.

Dear Holy Spirit, thank you for sparing me on this day.

Your short-lived relief is cut brief when his heavy footsteps come to a sudden halt. Broad, muscled back to you, Pena’s rugged profile slowly turns into view, its harsh outline illuminated by the glow of the bulb’s dusty, yellow light.

“If location’s the problem—” you can just make out the corner of his mouth lifting in a cocky smirk, “Could always come over, y’know. Got a big bed, nice shower… backseat, too, f’you get too excited on the way…”

You snort, but your breath betrays you, involuntarily hitching halfway up your throat.

Oh god.

“I’d sooner sleep with Escobar, himself.”

His side-eye catches your gaze for a spell, and you really can’t tell whether he wants to fuck or eat you.

“We’ll see.”

And then he’s out the door.

Alone in the dim room, you try to steady your breath, quickly aware of the tremor in your fingers. It’s an agitation that feels dangerous, unpredictable—as if you were a grenade with your safety pin tucked into the folds of Javier Pena's pocket.

His hands on your waist. His breath on your skin. “Always like it rough.” The tingling between your thighs and the air that just won’t fill your lungs—

The ghost of his gaze lingers on the bridge of your nose, and you can’t seem to shake the feeling that you’re being haunted. No matter what you do, his presence follows you. Not even a cold splash of water does the trick, crouched over the bathroom sink, still trembling hands rubbing vigorous lengths over your face as you desperately try to cleanse yourself of him.

—

“Fucking piece of shit!”

Your palms collide with the steering wheel. Once more, you yank and twist your keys in the ignition, abandoning all hope as the car coughs and sputters like a dying relative. You never intended to visit the hospice ward, this evening—all you wanted was to go home.

Closing the door with a punishing slam, you stalk to the front of the Chevy, wrenching open the hood to inspect the steaming guts of the car.

You might as well have been looking at hieroglyphs. Or, you might’ve been a roman oracle, divining meaning from a pile of sheep intestines.

Fuck.

It’s almost midnight. The fluorescents glowing through the embassy’s windows provide a sad excuse for lighting as you lean over the exposed hood of the car, trying to differentiate your engine from your battery, your catalytic converter from your air filter, this unidentifiable part from that one, over there.

Of course, this had to be the day that your American muscle gave out on you. Tears sting the corners of your eyes and you ache for the feeling of a warm tub, a glass of wine, a long, restful, deserved sleep.

Someone had to have cursed you.

That becomes all the more plausible when a deep voice booms from behind you, smug and amused and coated in a thick layer of arrogance.

“Car troubles?”

Not. Fucking. Him.

This had to be some form of karmic punishment. It had to be retribution for an act you’d committed in a past life, so evil that it haunted you, all the way into the next one, in the form of an insufferable cop.

His presence almost brings about a cry of rage.

You whirl on him. Leaning against the headlight of his Jeep, casually ashing his cigarette with a quick flick of his thumb, you find a shred of comfort in Peña’s evident exhaustion, weighing down his shoulders and rendering the sharp edges of his features unusually dull.

Ha. The day had punished him, too.

“What’d I say earlier?” He taunts, and of course, despite his weariness, he still looks amused, endlessly capable of deriving a kind of perverted entertainment in your torment. “Something ‘bout bad engines?”

You scowl at him, fingernails digging into your palms. “Unless you know how to fix this,” you gesture wildly towards your defective vehicle, “Do me a favour and fuck right off, Peña.”

He only smiles, taking a final pull off his dart and crushing it between the pavement and the underside of his dress shoe. “Leave it here for the night,” he says. “No use fighting with it right now. ‘Specially not while you’re alone out here.”

A light scoff. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”

He tilts his head to the side, fixing you with a look of exasperation that screams, ‘be serious.’ “Let me give you a ride, sweetheart.”

“No, thanks. I’m pretty sure I know where that would get me.”

His expression grows earnest. “I’m not gonna try anything. Got enough guilt already, just don’t wanna add the secretary’s gruesome death to my list.”

You huff a strained exhalation, addled mind racing as you try to think of anything else that could get you home Peña-free. Cabs were a no-go, alone at this hour. The embassy was empty (except for a few stragglers that you trusted even less than your current company) and on a Friday night, no one you knew would be home to pick up your call, let alone be sober enough to drive.

You could sleep in your car.

You wholeheartedly consider it.

But one look at the agent confirms that option as a dead one: he’d drag you kicking and screaming into his backseat if it really came down to it.

“Swear.”

Peña raises his eyebrows at your command. You hear his unspoken ‘really?’ ringing in your ears.

So, you cross your arms, waiting insistently.

He sighs. “I swear,” and it’s sincere enough.

“Swear what?” You cock a hip out a little to compliment the attitude in your voice. If you were to suffer through his torture, he would suffer through yours, too. How’d that old saying go?

Eye for an eye.

Peña shakes his head and stalks over, passing you by to slam the hood of your Chevrolet shut.

Standing in front of you, exasperation guides him as he addresses you straight on. “You’ll be home in ten minutes, unharmed and unfucked. Now, get in the damn car.”

He heads to the passenger side of the Jeep, rough while unlocking the door, gentle while holding it open. The surrounding darkness doesn’t allow for a full view of his face, and you’re somewhat grateful for undoubtedly being spared the look of vindication that would soon be etched on those features.

This is a bad idea.

Every natural instinct tells you to stay put. Like a broken record, the word danger-danger-danger bounces and ricochets inside your head. When Pena beckons you forward, eyebrows raised in impatience, it feels as though you’re being pulled to him by a thread so delicate it might’ve been spider silk—still, the faint tug makes you all the more worried for your sake.

Nevertheless, you give your shoulders a quick shake and take the first step, walking the length of that invisible string.

—

“Yeah—the building right in front of the school. Grey, looked like a seventy-eight or seventy-nine. Drove off before I could get the plate number, but I’m sure it’s the same one.”

You were not home in ten minutes.

Instead, you’re perched gingerly on the edge of Peña’s couch, cupping a cold glass of water between your hands as he relays the events of the past twenty minutes to his partner.

After spending the ride in simmering silence (aside from the latin music playing softly over the Cherokee’s speakers), Peña had barely turned onto your street before he was veering into an alleyway, the momentum slamming your side against the car’s interior. Frenzied protests flew from your lips as he sped off in the opposite direction of the home you so badly longed for.

“Takin’ you to mine—just shut up for a second—remember that car, this afternoon, when I was with you? The one parked up the street? Yeah, well, it’s outside your building, sweetheart.”

Now, you’re in his living room, massaging your bruised arm and trying to keep your cool. The agent’s voice washes over you, both very far and very near at once. Distracting yourself seems essential, given the circumstances, so instead of dwelling on the idea that someone might actually be trying to kill you, and, what’s worse, you have no idea why, you study the apartment.

To anyone else, it’d just be one man’s living situation, tending toward the nicer side of that domain.

To you, it’s seeing inside the mind of an alien creature.

Everything looks warm: the browns and the yellows of his furniture feel surprisingly cozy. The dark-wood coffee table, the curated magazines, that smokey, deep-forest smell… it’s not what you’d expected. Although, you’re not quite sure what it is that you’d expected.

An unmade bed and few scattered Penthouses with the centerfold pages stuck together, at the very least.

“Yeah, she’s fine here, for now—alright—tell Connie I say ‘hi'.” The phone lands on the receiver with a muted clunk.

Eventually, he comes around to join you. You’re not interested in hearing the details, sick of explanations, tired of all the action (maybe the fast life wasn’t for you, after all), and so you have no complaints when Peña settles next to you on the couch with a grunt, placing two crystal glasses on the coffee table and pouring a sizeable amount of whiskey into each cup.

He slides one over to you with a soft, “I’ll take the couch.”

You set down your water, opting for the drink. The glass is ice-cold, but the scotch burns your throat on its way down to warming your stomach.

Peña smirks at your gagging. He, of course, downs it like a champ, setting the glass back down on the table with a thunk.

“I don’t usually drink this kind of stuff,” you admit.

He leans his back against the arm of the couch. The top two buttons of his dress shirt hang open—tan skin glistening like ore.

You quickly find something else to look at.

“It’s strong,” he groans, folding his hands behind his head. And, Jesus, the sight of his bicep stretching out in full view of your periphery. Does he even own shirts that fit him? “Only take it out for special occasions.”

Eyes on the drink, girl. “Oh, yeah? What occasion is this, then?”

“The usual one.” It’s impossible not to look at him when his voice plummets into those depths of his register; this, he knows, and he flashes you a wolfish grin. You prepare for the worst—some horribly offensive comment or worse, a sexual invitation.

How many of his conquests had drunk this very same liquor?

But, instead, you’re given: “failed assassination attempts.”

You snort, gaze shifting over to the bottle.

Nearly empty.

That would explain his lack of alarm at the evening’s previous events—the same ones that had you shaking head-to-toe.

“And here I was, thinking you were just trying to get me drunk,” you respond, but your playfulness is overshadowed by the quiver in your voice.

Against your better judgment, you use the drink as a soothing agent. It calms the storms that rage whenever you recall the echo of that gunshot or else meet Peña’s eyes.

“Things can serve two purposes, sweetheart.” A dangerous kind of flirtatiousness underpins his reply. “You should know by now that I’m not exactly a gentleman.”

Your stomach does a flip. Swirling the liquid in your cup, you watch as it spins and turns, climbing up one side before sloping down, washing up the other—you’re frozen, concentrating your energy on anything but that mounting tug, pulling you toward the man at your side.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” and despite yourself, the words come out so soft, so tentatively curious.

Peña leans forward. When his index finger meets your chin, tilting it up so that you have no choice but to tumble into those onyx-black eyes, heat explodes at the point of contact, blooming furiously across your cheeks.

“I mean,” he drawls, placing his free hand right above your knee, stroking the delicate skin of your thigh, “I’m not above asking for payment, y’know, for giving you a place to stay.”

He’s smiling at you—toying with you again. You want to resist him.

God, you really do.

“Get over yourself, Peña,” you aim for a casual jab, but your voice betrays you, breathy and involuntarily gliding up an octave. “You’re not winning this one.”

“I’m not looking to win, sweetheart.”

He grows serious, pulling your near-empty cup from between your hands and setting it down. He moves oh-so-slow, never once dropping your gaze as his calloused hand inches up your thigh. “I want to help you, querida,” his breath grazes your cheekbone, thick fingers sliding underneath your skirt—

It had to be the Spanish. That had to be the reason behind your complete loss of willpower, your total absorption in everything that was Javier.

It was either that, or your exhaustion had finally driven you completely insane.

“Let me take your mind off it, yeah? I know what works, baby, trust me,” and, God, you want to, especially when that damn hand gives your upper thigh a soft squeeze. “You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” you breathe–-but you lack the conviction to convince yourself, let alone him. All you can do is watch his eyes darken as his fingertips reach the delicate fabric of your underwear.

“Prove it to me, hermosa.”

His fingers slip down the front of your underwear. He drinks in the sight of your brows furrowing, your fingernails anchoring onto anything in reach as his index finds the tender bundle of nerves tucked between your thighs.

And you’re soaked.

A winning smile.

“Fuckin’ knew it,” he looses a low laugh. “Act like you hate me all you want, sweetheart—this pussy’s loved me from the start.”

You whimper softly as he rubs slow circles against your clit.

Jesus.

He’s like a professional—no other man’s fingers, cock, or selection of toys had ever made you feel like this. And he works you with just the pad of his thumb.

“Peña—” you attempt a final protest, a last shot at redemption before your inevitable fall into the abyss of lust calling out for you.

“Javi, baby,” he corrects.

And you don’t stand a chance.

He pulls you onto his lap; it takes everything not to melt at the feel of his hard chest pressed to your back. The man can’t move fast enough for you—bunching your skirt up around your waist, reaching his hand back under the lining of your underwear.

There’s a low groan when he runs a couple fingers between your damp folds. The feeling and the sound of him has your head collapsing against the curve of his shoulder.

“Don’t think anyone’s ever gotten this wet for me, before,” he practically growls his approval into your ear.

“M’not your usual type,” you manage between moans. “Still got feeling down there.”

His free hand snaps up to grasp your jaw, tilting your chin up to meet that twinkling look of warning.

“S’true,” his low baritone muses—then he watches your face contort with ecstasy as he sinks not one, but two fingers inside your cunt. “They don’t usually talk this fuckin’ much.”

He holds your chin steady, observing your gasps of abandon, studying every visible indication of your pleasure as he pumps his fingers in and out and in and out of you, curling them to push against aaall the right places.

Down to the knuckles.

“What do you do to them?” and he takes great pleasure in hearing the strain in your voice. You take great pleasure in the feel of his cock growing hard, twitching with impatience under your ass.

He ducks his head down to nip at the softest part of your neck. “Want me to show you?”

It’s hard to answer between moans—but, yes.

You do.

If there was ever a stupidity you could rationalize, it was this one. How many times had he promised you ecstasy? How many women had you hung up on, desperation sapping at their static-laden voices as they pleaded—no, downright begged—for just another taste of him? At this point, it would be self-denial, self-hatred not to see what all the fuss was about.

And, what’s more, was it so wrong that, after a day like today, you simply wanted to be at the mercy of an almost-stranger, for just one night? To give over control (not to mention, total creative license), not having to worry about what to do, how to fix this, where to send this—that sounded more than good, it sounded like exactly what you needed.

“Y-yes,” you finally concede, sealing your fate in a stuttered exhalation.

His chest rumbles behind you, a low laugh.

Then, he squeezes another finger inside your cunt.

You nearly cry out at the sting, the pleasure, the stretch.

“You know what I wanna hear, sweetheart,” and he’s dragging the tip of his hooked nose, his full lips up the side of your neck.

You need him. It’s all you can do not to shout it out, to claim the space of his home with the echoes of that sheer, incontestable fact.

You’ll give him whatever he wants. Submit to the enemy, beg for the tantalizing touch of your nemesis… who cares, anymore? Who cares when the enemy’s digits can do that, when his words have you feeling like this?

“Please, Javi.”

He smiles against your skin. “Here or in the bedroom?” His hands move, cooperating to undo the buttons of your blouse. A void swells inside your core, mourning the loss of his index, middle, and ring fingers.

“Be serious,” without the pleasure of them both on and inside your cunt, you manage to reclaim some of your old fight. “I’m not letting you fuck me on a couch.”

He pulls your shirt off your shoulders, and then he’s sneaking a hand under your knees, cradling you in his arms. “Watch that fuckin' tone when you speak to me, hermosa.” His face looms over yours, hungry eyes raking over your exposed form. “Should be thanking me for even givin’ you a choice.”

You give him a smug, mocking “thank you,” hooking your arms around his neck, and Javier scoffs, carrying you—effortlessly—to the bedroom. Despite the cleanliness marking the rest of his place, his bed is unmade, as expected. You barely have thirty seconds to take in the dark pillows, the vintage-looking lamps, the willowy curtains before you’re underneath him, laid atop his tangled, pale sheets. “Fuck, I’m glad you chose the bed, sweetheart,” strong arms grasp you tightly, pushing you up the mattress; his knees land on either side of your thighs as your head falls to the pillows.

“Makes it so much easier to do all the things I wanna do to you.”

He hovers over you, cupping your face in a look of such reverent depth, it borders on concern. Those round doe-eyes, those thick eyebrows—they excite even the most remote places of your body.

“Do you kiss the others?” You tease, softly.

He studies you, focussing especially on your lips as his fingers travel the length of your arm, your jaw, the side of your thigh. “Yeah, usually—but I’m tryna decide if that’s a good idea with you.”

Your bra straps are pulled down your arms in forceful tugs. A line of wetness trails down your bicep where his still-damp fingers graze your skin.

You pout. “Worried I’ll be disappointed?”

His hands sneak under your back, undoing the clasp of your bra in a skilled movement that only increases your anticipation for what’s to come. “I’m worried you’ll get too excited, cariño,” he tosses your bra to the side, “Whinin’ like that from just a few fingers… sounded like a damn virgin.”

His taunt barely registers. You’re distracted, longing for his kisses as if you already knew what they tasted like. Meeting his eyes, you fill your own with unabashed supplication, watching as he takes in the view of your body.

And he groans at the sight of your bare breasts.

“God, fuck it.”

And then his lips claim yours in a starving sort of kiss, the kind that takes everything from your lungs, leaving you aching and empty. His mustache grazes the skin of your upper lip, his tongue tastes of necessity.

Moaning against him as his fingertips trace your breasts, gasping into his mouth when he manhandles and squeezes them roughly. He peppers kisses down your jaw, freeing your lips as his own travel down, down, down to suck and nip at a peaked nipple.

Back arching in ecstasy, a pleading “Javi” tumbles from your parted lips.

He grunts in approval. “Yeah, that’s my girl.” His head ducks over to tease your other side. “S’the only fuckin’ word you need to know from now on.” Your cunt throbs at the feel of his teeth against your sensitive skin, his tongue mapping out every part of your body that calls out for the salvation of his touch.

Then, he’s wrenching your skirt down your legs—your underwear clings to it, sliding down your hips, landing mid-way up your thighs.

He lifts himself off of you, leaving you breathless, exposed, and trembling, to undo the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging the tan cotton off his shoulders and wrenching it off his arms. You marvel up at him, memorizing the way his bare chest swells with every ragged breath. Your heavy-lidded eyes eventually trail down to the impressive bulge below his silver buckle.

“Just how you always pictured?”

Cocky as ever—you’re reluctant to admit that it only adds to his allure.

“Oh, Peña,” you purr, “I hope your dick is as big as your ego.”

An amused smile, and then he’s undoing his belt. You unabashedly stare at his working forearms, how capable they look, now, and how they might look holding a gun—or else, wrapped around your neck.

“Why don’t you take it out and see for yourself?”

You bite your lip, sitting up slowly until your chin runs parallel to his navel. Unsteady hands meet the button, then the fly of his pants. Excitement floods your senses; you burn with crackling electricity.

Dipping into his briefs, you spring his length free: hard, thick, the dark tip glistening with precum. Javi runs his fingers through your hair, and you look up to meet his gaze—you’re a picture of innocence, stroking his cock between two devoted hands.

“Almost,” you coo.

Leaning forward, you wrap your lips around the tip of his length, savouring the taste of his salt on your tongue.

“Fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back, tangling your hair in his fist, “Any other time, baby…” He pulls you off of him, holding your cheeks between his hands. “Right now, I just really wanna make you come.”

You smile, pulling down his denim, honoured by the pure need in his voice. His cock twitches in response to the graze of your fingertips on the inside of his thighs.

“Who’s begging, now?” The sultriness of your taunt takes even you by surprise.

He strokes himself once, twice, three times, features hardening at the sight of your near-naked form below him.

“On your knees, sweetheart, before I show you what that fuckin’ mouth was really made for.”

Always the gentleman, he helps you, flipping you around until your palms press indents into the mattress. Your underwear is wrestled over your knees and down your calves, and then there’s a pair of large hands dragging your hips back. He pulls you right up against him—against two firm, broad thighs.

And that’s when the teasing starts.

“How bad do you want it, hermosa?” He asks, dragging his cock between your dripping folds, grazing your swollen clit with the tip of his length and his fingertips, too. “Bad enough to beg for me?”

“Please,” you whine, “Can’t w-wait any longer.”

He torments you, poking shallowly at your entrance. “Gonna have to give me more than that,” he tuts. "Show me that you've learned some fuckin' manners, baby."

You’re tired of being patient, sick of the throbbing ache weighing heavy inside your clit, your cunt, your core. If his goal was to make you crazy, he’d already achieved it—you feel your mind reeling, losing control of both itself and your body as Javier tempts you toward submission.

He lays a kiss to your neck, adding fuel to an already roaring, uncontrollable fire.

“Please, Javi, fuck me.”

“Again. Louder.”

“Please—please, Javi—please—”

Spreading you apart in his hands, he sinks deep inside you with a quiet groan, watching intently to assure that he’d given every last inch of himself to your grateful cunt.

“Gooood girl,” Javi praises, “Always knew I could fix that fuckin’ attitude.”

He thrusts inside you once again, setting an intense rhythm with every impossibly deep stroke—punishing and rewarding, giving and taking. Every cry drawn from between your parted, bruised lips only encourages the brutality of his throws.

“Shit, you’re needy,” he groans, anchoring his hands onto your waist, fingertips reaching all the way to the front of your abdomen. “Pussy’s pullin’ me in so deep, baby, needed this bad, huh?”

His hips snap against yours, soft skin rippling beneath his hands with every harsh movement. You give him all the cries and moans and pleas he asks for, especially when his tip grazes against that spot.

It feels good, losing control over each and every part of yourself for Javi to claim them for himself.

And you want more. You want him to fuck the thoughts, the fear, the lingering irritation out—to remake you, to bring it all crashing down. Begging him to cleanse you, you attempt speech. “J-Javi—mmm—”

“Yeah, s’it, talk to me, hermosa, you got it,” but he doesn’t make it easy, pushing his cock up so, so deep inside you.

“H-Harder, Javi,” you half-sob, “Want it so hard—s-so bad, please—”

A low laugh followed by a rough squeeze to your ass.

“Y’know, I wish I could make a fuckin’ movie of this, sweetheart,” he goads, leaning over until his breath warms your neck, lips dragging across your cheekbone. “I’m thinkin’: secretary brat—” his arms envelop your body: one hand slides down, skilled index rubbing torturous circles against that swollen bud (it takes everything in you not to cry out for God); the other moves to grasp your throat and jaw and—“begs cop to fuck her like a slut. Could show it to you when you’re actin’ up,” he grunts, shoving more of himself between your swollen walls.

“Could show it to the others, too—teach ‘em how you like to be put back in your fuckin’ place.”

Pressed flat against his chest, he lifts you upright, thrusting up into you with a newfound violence, laughing to himself when a cry tears from your coarse throat. You’re wrapped up so tight in his arms, and it’s all he can do not to crush you completely between them. Javi doesn’t stop working your clit or manhandling your breasts either, nor does he hold back from leaving traces of himself for tomorrow, sucking and nipping up and down the side of your neck.

“I can’t—ohmygod—s’too much, m’gonna—”

Your desperation at the hands of his torture brings a grin to his face. “Say ‘thank you,’ hermosa, m’giving you what you fuckin’ asked for.” Waves of pleasure begin to roll out from your core; you’re swaying on the edge of orgasm and all you can do is hold on for a few more seconds of ecstasy—a few more seconds of him.

His punishing hand constricts around your neck, forearm pressed to bruise between your breasts."You're not listening, baby." God, the brutality of his tone, the demand of his touch. "Need to thank me for ruinin' this pussy for you."

It takes everything you have. “Thankyouthankyouthankyoujavi—please—c-come with me, wanna—need you to fill me up when I-I—” and words become impossible.

The fluttering spreads down your thighs and up into your abdomen, cunt clenching uncontrollably around the wide girth of his cock. You soar off the edge, headed straight for your climax.

“Don’t stop,” Javi growls, nose pressed to the delicate skin behind your ear, “You fuckin’ sing for me when you’re comin’ on my cock.”

Your head dips back, settling into the groove of his shoulder—over and over and over again, you give him his name, the taste of it falling from your tongue almost as euphoric as the feel of your peak tearing through your body.

“So good for me, baby,” Javier grunts, breath ragged; his thrusts become less rhythmic, deeper—needier. “S-sofuckingood, querida—fu-uck,” and then his length swells inside you. He fills you up with a harsh squeeze to your breast, pushing his seed aaalll the way to your cervix with a few final, rough, irregular throws.

Damp with sweat, stars dancing before your eyes, you try, in vain, to catch your breath. Coming down from the high is nearly impossible: minutes come and go and still, you’re flying. All the while, Javier remains inside you—unmoving save for the odd twitch of his buried length.

Eventually, he’s laying you face-down on the mattress, leaving a line of soft kisses down your spine and pulling out with an unholy groan.

“J’so you know, sweetheart, I’d’ve paid for that,” and he rolls over to lie back against the bed frame.

You giggle weakly—the movement pushes some of his cum down onto your thigh. “Shut up ‘n get me a towel, asshole,” you slur, cheek pressed to his pillow.

“Just use the sheets,” he answers casually, leaning over your sprawled form to grab his pack of darts from the bedside table. “Give me something to remember that by.”

You cringe, partly in amused disgust, partly from the soreness you feel, flipping onto your back. “You’re so filthy, Peña.”

He shrugs, smiling as he pulls out a smoke. A comfortable silence settles the space.

“Did that help?” Javi soon inquires.

Your breathing’s evened out, and a fresh cigarette hangs casually from his lips. He lifts a hand to light it.

You hold two fingers out. “Help what?” He places a smoke between them, and reaches over, lighter in hand—dark, wide eyes watching the flame lap at the tip of the dart—the scene somehow feels as intimate as fucking him had.

“You know,” he shifts, ashing his cigarette onto a tray on his bedside table, “The stress.”

You sit with his question for a second, pulling a long puff of smoke into your sore lungs.

“Yes.”

He nods. “Does for me, too.”

Understanding flits between you.

It dawns on you that you might have overlooked some shared similarities. The peace feels… nice.

And, what’s more, you realize that his gorgeous, rugged looks don’t irritate you (as much) anymore. Taking him in, now, it’s like seeing the man for the first time, allowing yourself to appreciate his effortless beauty.

Then, of course, he opens his mouth.

“Gonna have to face me next time, though,” propping himself up on an elbow, he uses his free hand to roll one of your breasts in his palm. “Wanna see these pretty tits bounce for me.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Next time?”

A grin. “Give it five minutes, sweetheart. You got years of bad behaviour to make up for.”

And you don’t manage to stifle your giggle.

He doesn’t finish his smoke, prematurely ashing it out before twisting to face you. “Hermosa,” he cups your face between two passionate, steady hands. “I’m gonna get that fucker from today, alright?”

You tumble into his wide-eyed, serious gaze.

The colour of richness, the colour of life.

Then, you nod. “And I’ll get Murphy that form.”

A soft smile teases the corners of his lips.

An agreement. A promise.

He looks down at you with glowing approval and it’s the feeling of sunshine on bare skin. How different it is, looking at that face and feeling safe, seeing a warm smile and two crystal cups on a coffee table instead of blood, death, and scenes of gratuitous violence.

Javi kisses you.

Your eyes shut tight, eyebrows furrowing as his fingertips cradle your cheeks, mouth dragging across yours, hooked nose pressed to the side of your own.

It’s different from before. Not desperate, hard, and hot. Gentle—sweet.

Just his lips and yours, nothing more, nothing less. No expectations, no invitations.

After a perfect moment, you pull away, dazed. “What was that for?”

Javi’s voice is so low, so tender, it’s barely audible.

“Just wanted to.”

You’d feel that kiss for weeks after, absentmindedly lifting your index to your lips in an imitation of the ghostly traces haunting your skin.

But right now, all you had to do was lean in for another.

And another.

Read part 2: Playing Dangerous

TAGLIST: @inkedells @pining-and-tired @stardust-chords-enthusiast @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @bookofbee @liviloo12346 @anyas-stuff @readingsunshine97 @maudlinflowers @caravelofthesun @sullysflm @sexygaypalpatine @livyjh @s-unflowxr @lostsoldieronahill @chapterhappygirl @raeluvshammett @silkiers @jupitersmoon-cal @supernaturaldean67 @razrsharpwhiteteeth @peqchsoup @corrodedcherries @hawsx3 @monboudoir @theonewithacrush

All the lights in Miami begin to gleam Ruby, blue and green, neon too Everything looks better from above my king Like aqua marine, ocean's blue

Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Cacciatore La da da da da La da da da da Limousines Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ciao amore La da da da da La da da da da Soft ice cream

All the lights are sparkling for you it seems On the downtown scenes, shady blue Beatboxing and rapping in the summer rain Like a boss, he sang Jazz and Blues

Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Cacciatore La da da da da La da da da da Limousines Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ciao amore La da da da da La da da da da Soft ice cream

The summer's hot And I've been waiting for you all this time I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me? Summer's hot but I've been cold without you I was so wrong not to tell, in Medellìn, tangerine dreams

Catch me if you can Working on my tan Salvatore Dying by the hand Of a foreign man Happily Calling out my name In the summer rain Ciao amore Salvatore can wait Now it's time to eat Soft ice cream

Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Cacciatore Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Limousines Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Ciao amore Ah ah ah ah Ah ah ah ah Soft ice cream

#javier peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x reader #javier peña smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier peña fic #javier peña fanfiction #narcos fanfiction #narcos #pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #javier pena x y/n #javier pena narcos #javier peña narcos

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lincolndjarin · 4 months

Text

Not So Secret Santa

javier peña x fem!reader

this is a part of the @pedrostories gift exchange!!

summary : you get the only person you didn't want for your offices secret santa.

warnings/tags : 18+ mdni, enemies/friends to lovers, canon divergence, steve is your boss/close friend, reader and javier have a complicated relationship, reader is insecure, brief mentions of alcohol, porn with plot, smut, light angst, javier and reader fight physically but it's very light with no actual injury, masturbation, semi-public sex, p in v, idk how to properly tag this but javi likes boobs in this so he touches boobs, unprotected sex (don't do this, wrap it this holiday season), use of a makeshift gag, rough yet very loving sex because it's christmas and christmas magic means i can write what i want.

tldr : you and javi have sex in his office and you put his tie in his mouth to shut him up.

word count : 4.4k

✦ : merry christmas @taro-666 !!! i'm your secret santa !!! i hope you're well this holiday season and i hope you enjoy this fic !! i haven't written much peña, despite how much i love him so i hope i did him justice and i hope you have a wonderful holiday <3 <3 (also sorry this is a little late (20 minuetes left before midnight so we're good). i was out with family all day and was only just now able to get to my laptop, i promise i didn't forget about you lmao)

no use of y/n, reader has hair and painted nails & javier sort of half picks her up at one point, nothing else is described besides clothing.

lovely dividers by @saradika-graphics

“Please, Steve, I’ll give you a week's pay.” You lean across his desk, genuine desperation in your voice after an hour of begging.

“Not gonna happen.” He doesn’t even bother looking up from his computer.

“A month.” Your voice is starting to pitch up, something similar to anguish in your tone. Your offer finally gets a reaction out of him as his eyes widen, head tilting up.

“Jesus, you can’t be serious.” He’s examining your expression, trying to determine the sincerity of your claim.

“My entire Christmas bonus.”

“Okay, stop.” He sighs, giving you a sympathetic look. “We’re not allowed to switch.”

“When did you become such a stickler for the rules?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“It’s just a secret Santa. He’s our friend, whether you like it or not, you two are close and this shouldn’t be this big of a deal, now go, please, I need to finish up here so I can leave at a reasonable hour.” He loosens his tie as you sigh.

“It’s not just a secret Santa, Steve. It’s an opportunity for him to tell me that I once again didn’t do something right. No matter what I get him, it isn’t going to be good enough.” Even as you’re saying it you can see that he isn’t going to change his mind about this.

“He’s a dick to everybody. That’s inevitable, it just means he’s comfortable with you.” He’s already turning back to his work.

“Please, Steve.”

“No.”

You glare down at him, giving him your angriest look as his gaze tilts back up to meet yours.

When it’s clear that he isn’t going to switch you turn and leave, slamming his office door in the process.

“Don’t forget, I need you here early to help set up for the party!” His muffled voice seeps out into the hall as you walk away.

Once you’re out in your car and far away from prying eyes you unfold the damned slip of paper you’d drawn earlier today.

Javier P.

Of course, you got stuck with fucking Peña, a nickname you’d given him a few months ago. He absolutely hates it but the entire time you’ve worked for the DEA he’s gone out of his way to bother you. Sure, he’s your “friend”, in a strange, complicated way. But he still drives you up the wall with his constant need to one up you and the way he’s constantly making passes at women around the office.

And it’s not like you have any problems with him sleeping around, lord knows you’ve had a fair amount of one night stands, but he just has to hit on every woman you work with.

Every single woman, except you.

You’d never admit it of course but a part of you will always be self conscious about that fact. It doesn’t help that Javier absolutely adores bothering you at every possible moment. He loves nothing more than to pester, annoy, and mock you, spending nearly half his day leaning over your desk despite the million complaints you’ve sent Steve about his persistent partner.

He’ll sit on your desk, doing an endless amount of things to cause you distress. Like crowding you with his cigarette smell and vanilla cologne as he tells you you’re filling papers wrong, or telling you what colors to paint your nails, or solving your cases before you can even get to them, or teasing you about your shitty car. Today he wouldn’t stop bothering you about your weekend plans like he doesn’t already know exactly where you’ll be.

“Are you doing anything this weekend?” He’d asked with that devastating smirk and eyebrow raise combo.

“I have to go buy my secret Santa gift, just like everyone else.” You’d turned away, avoiding eye contact as he scoffed.

“What about Saturday?” He continued to pry, you wanted nothing more than to shove his perfect ass off your desk.

“The Christmas party, Javi. Just like everyone else.” You had sighed, squeezing the bridge of your nose as Emilia had walked past your desk. Javier immediately forgot your entire conversation as he turned to her.

“I love your nails.” He’d pushed his hair out of his face, holding his hand out to take hers, getting a closer look at the well manicured designs.

You had tuned out after that. Not wanting to be involved in the exchange as you went back to typing. Acutely aware of your own nails.

Red chipped paint.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to be the object of his affection.

It wouldn’t matter if he did hit on you, you would probably reject him anyway.

Probably.

It doesn’t matter, it’s never gonna happen so why let it bother you?

With a sigh you toss the paper into your cup holder, reaching to turn on the radio, maybe some Christmas music will make you feel better. Of course nothing happens as you turn up the volume knob but it makes you want to scream regardless.

Stupid fucking Peña.

Stupid broken radio, stupid shitty car.

“Fuck.” You mumble under your breath as you shift into drive.

Before you know it you’re back in your car in the DEA office parking lot, this time a few things are different though.

You’re dressed nicer, trading your slacks in for a skirt and your dress shirt for a sweater. And of course you now have a small wrapped box in your lap.

Since you had yesterday off for the holiday you spent your Friday at the mall, searching for a gift for Javier. Eventually you had settled on three little things; Nicotine gum, mostly because you’ll get more work done if he isn’t constantly dragging you outside for his smoke breaks. He complains too much about going alone and it’s always been easier not to argue, now he can stay at your desk with his gum. Beard oil, the fancy stuff he always insists on using in his mustache. You’d bought him the wrong kind last year for his birthday and you still haven’t heard the end of it. And a lighter, you had to beg the shop owner to make an exception and do a same day engraving of his birthday.

Jesus.

You know way too much about him.

You arrived two hours early as requested by Steve to help him set up. With the wrapped box tucked under your arm you anxiously tap the patterned wrapping paper with your freshly manicured nails.

“You should paint your nails green, I love green.” He had said through a drag of his cigarette.

Why did you let that idiot's opinions influence this decision? You feel foolish. The green chrome polish shimmering in the street lights in the parking lot as you step into the building. You had extra time while you were waiting for the engraving and you just couldn’t help yourself when the salon was just a few stores away. The image of Javier holding your hand and examining your painted nails while telling you how nice they looked was just too tempting. Maybe he’d even ask if you did it just for him, and you could drag him into a closet at the party, the exact situation you watched unfold last year. Except in that scenario you weren’t the lucky lady he’d run off with that night.

There’s no time to be thinking like that.

You shake off whatever filth you were imagining as you look around the hectic mess of garland and glitter.

Steve is already stressing, setting up tables as you set your gift under the tree before getting to work. The office is already mostly decorated but with his new position as supervisor Steve is insistent that everything be perfect his first Christmas in charge. So you plate food, and you mix drinks exactly as he wants them, and you hold the ladder steady when he insists on putting more lights up. When you’ve got about a half an hour before guests start arriving you’re finishing up and last minute touches, the two of you crowded around a drink tower.

The tension from your conversation yesterday seems to have fizzled out as you become engrossed in your work, when you’ve both finished he gives you an appreciative look.

“Thank you, seriously, it means a lot.” You help him adjust his tie as he straightens out his shirt.

“Anytime, although I’m surprised you didn’t just ask Javier.” You pat his shoulder as you finish, brushing a stray blonde hair out of his eyes.

He laughs, a nervous chuckle that makes you raise an eyebrow but when you open your mouth to comment on it he lets out a relieved sigh as the first of your coworkers arrive.

More people show up than you could have expected.

You stay near Steve for most of the beginning until he gets dragged away by one of the higher ups who had made an appearance, leaving you alone to sip your drink against the back wall. You hum along to a Christmas song that plays loud enough to drown out any conversation you might eavesdrop on to entertain yourself in his absence, your eyes scan the crowds as you try to match up the people you work with with their spouses.

You’re getting ready to find another group to talk to when you catch a glimpse of him standing against the opposite wall, talking to Bonnie, the woman who works in the cubicle next to yours.

Fucking Peña. Dressed in a stupidly tight green dress shirt.

You should leave them alone, especially if he’s trying to make a move on her. But you can’t help it as you make your way around the room towards them, a vague sense of jealousy settling in your stomach.

String lights twinkle across the ceiling of the office, creating a warm ambience throughout the space, just as you’re about to tap him on the shoulder you overhear their conversation.

“I had to beg Steve to switch with me, took an hour of convincing and a week's paycheck but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.” His back is to you as he leans in closer to Bonnie.

He’s probably talking about one of the other women from the office. Steve probably had someone Javier was trying to impress and that’s why Steve didn’t want to trade with you, he had already promised his pick to Javier.

Whatever, you can’t be too bothered about that. It does make you want to return to your spot on the other side of the room but you don’t get the chance to as the music is turned down rather suddenly.

One of the secretaries, Benjamin, stands on a chair, making an announcement that it’s time to do the secret Santa. You manage to twist through the crowds so Javier never sees you, finding his gift and bringing it to where he now stands, simultaneously keeping an eye out for your own gift.

You hand him the box, watching the way his face lights up.

“You picked me?” He grins as you nod, carefully peeling back the wrapping paper as you feel a tap on your shoulder. Benjamin waits behind you, leaning in to whisper while you watch Javier open his gift.

“It was short notice so we didn’t have time to get you a back up gift but your secret Santa told us at the last minute that he forgot to get you something, he promised to bring in something after New Years, I’m so sorry.” You feel a little disappointed as he murmurs but it isn’t that big of a deal, it’s a busy time of year and people can forget things.

“No worries, do you know who it was? I’d like to at least tell them it’s fine.” You turn away from Javier as he smiles at the nicotine gum, Benjamin's eyes flicker from your face to Javier’s before he gives you a sympathetic look, walking away.

Javier traded for your name?

As your head tilts to look at him now you can see the smirk he’s now sporting.

“ …but it’ll be worth it to see the look on her face.”

Javier had made a conscious effort to get your name just so he could not get you something.

Huh.

That doesn’t feel great. The look he gets to see on your face is betrayal and then just sadness. You don’t really care what the reason for his decision is, you turn and walk away from him regardless. If he tries to say something to you it’s drowned out by the music that starts once again.

Why are you so upset over some stupid joke? If it had been anyone else you wouldn’t have cared, you’d have brushed it off as a harmless accident but this wasn’t an accident.

Maybe he didn’t really think of you as a friend.

Maybe all of the teasing and one-upmanship really was from a place of animosity and you were just too blind and too infatuated to see it. You want to cry but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction so you sift through the bowl of keys, searching for the Star Wars keychain attached to your lanyard but you can’t find it. The combination of the blaring Christmas songs with the frustration you’re currently feeling only makes you more emotional.

You don’t want to go to the bathrooms where you might run into someone and you can’t go to Steve’s office because he might be talking to his supervisor, so you go to the only place you know there won’t be people.

Javier’s office.

You walk as quickly as you can, slipping inside as you slam the door shut behind you, clicking the lock in place before turning around, resting against the door as you feel tears spilling from your eyes. It isn’t until he clears his throat that your head snaps up.

Today is just not your day.

Did he know you’d come here? How the hell did he beat you here? He’s fidgeting with the lighter you bought him, watching it light and go out as he sits with your keys in his other hand.

Your face feels hot as you take in the sight of him.

“Give me my keys.” You hold your hand out, wiping your eyes with the other as you wait. Of course he doesn’t hand them over, that would be too easy and today is insisting on being difficult.

“I really liked your gift. Seriously, this is… outrageously thoughtful.” He murmurs, seemingly unaware of your mood until he takes a closer look at you, his expression shifting as he realizes your eyes are rimmed with red. “Why are you so upset? What happened?” He slides open a drawer, tossing your keys into his desk while you consider calling a cab.

What a foolish question.

How could he possibly not know?

“I want to leave, I’m sick of this party.” You turn to leave, maybe Steve can drive you home.

“Come on, the parties barely started.” He’s on his feet, he doesn’t try to corner you, if anything he sets himself against the wall.

“And I want to leave.” When you reach for the doorknob he grabs your wrist, holding it as he stares at you, a look of impatience crosses his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re mad about the secret Santa.” His brows furrow.

“This isn’t about a stupid secret Santa.”

“It sure seems like it is.” He’s still holding your wrist, why is he still holding your wrist?

This isn’t about the secret Santa. It’s a lot more than that, and after ages of keeping your thoughts to yourself in front of him you just let it out.

“This is about the fact that you don’t even care about me enough to make any sort of effort. I know you deliberately chose me, you specifically chose to do this to me and I don’t care that it’s just a stupid prank. It still- It’s still a shitty thing to do.” Your voice starts cracking half way through and you can feel your eyes welling up again but it doesn’t matter anymore, you were wrong, the two of you aren’t friends.

“So this is about the secret Santa.”

Of course he wouldn’t get it.

“You’re an idiot.” You finally pull your wrist from him.

You aren’t sure what else to do so you shove him, his back hitting the wall with a soft thud as you push past him to get to his desk, hoping to grab your keys but he catches your waist first.

“Can you stop being so stubborn for five seconds and just let me explain myself?” You can tell his patience is wearing thin, his voice is strained as he pulls you back against him, caging you against his chest with his arms.

“Fuck Javi- let me go-” You try to kick his knees but he anticipates it, shifting his legs to avoid you.

“Just wait- listen to me.” He swings you around a bit as he tries to still you, you can feel his breath hitching, the buttons of his shirt digging into your back. The two of you thrash around for another moment until you freeze, feeling something poking your hip. When he realizes why you stopped putting up a fight he lets you go in an instant. “Shit- I-I’m sorry.” He stammers as you turn around towards him, eyes wide.

You never thought you’d see Javier Peña flustered yet here he is. When you take a step back his cheeks are burning red, his fingers twitch nervously at his side, and as much as you try to ignore it, his pants are tighter than usual. (And considering how tight they usually are this is quite a feat.) He won’t look you in the eye.

“It- It’s fine, Javi.” You adjust the hem of your skirt, trying to fix your hair. You just can’t catch a break today. “It was an accident, there was a lot of- of friction and it happens. I think I should just go.” You stutter a bit trying to find the right words. This entire evening has been catastrophic, and you’re more than ready to call it a night.

“It’s not an accident.” He mumbles, finally looking at you, not bothering with subtlety as he adjusts himself. “You should probably go.”

If it’s not an accident you don’t want to go.

You want to stay and keep making accidents, starting with rushing forward into him, taking his face in your hands and kissing him. Which is exactly what you do. At first he doesn’t react and you worry you read the situation wrong but when you pull away, just an inch, his hands envelop you.

Hips, waist, back, shoulders, hair. He’s everywhere, all consuming as his teeth graze your lips, in an instant your backside hits his desk.

When he finally does remove his lips from yours his are slick and a tiny bit swollen, his pupils swallow his irises whole.

“I loved your gift, I wasn’t joking, it’s perfect and the last thing I want is for you to think that I don’t care about you. Of course we’re friends, you-” As he rambles on you ball up the end of his tie, unceremoniously shoving it between his teeth.

“Talk later, this now.” You grab the bottom of your sweater, pulling it up over your head, watching his jaw tense at the sight of your chest, his hands playing with the strap of your bra as you hop up onto his desk. Hiking your skirt up, he slots himself between your legs, your own fingers push your panties to the side as he reaches behind you, easily twisting the clasp of your bra to release it, tossing it to the side as his enormous palms engulf your breasts.

You dip your fingers into the wetness between your legs, briefly taking a moment to wonder how you found yourself here. Just moments ago you were ready to leave and consider your friendship with Javier over, yet now you’re spread out on his desk, on display for him as you sink your fingers into your eager cunt.

You don’t get to linger on the thought for long because he groans into the fabric of his tie and you’re pulled back into the moment.

Jesus you’re soaked.

You have no trouble pushing two slick digits into yourself. You can feel the outline of him against your thigh and you know that you need to warm yourself up to take him. He’s too engrossed in your tits to do it right now and you’ve waited too long for this, you don’t want to wait, you just want to have him.

He’s tender at first, squeezing and softly tracing the outline of your areola until he seemingly can’t control himself any longer and he pinches, rolling your nipples between his thumb and pointer finger as your whine. Back arching of the oak of his desk as you curl your own fingers. Even through the tie his moans are still somehow louder than yours, you’re briefly worried about someone hearing as you let out a whimper while he tweaks your nipple but the music’s so loud at the party you can hear Mariah Carey from here.

You don’t stop for a second, putting your focus on reaching the peak that you find yourself already getting startlingly close to. You can feel yourself pulsing as you pick up the pace, reveling in the way his eyes devour the very sight of you. You’re agonizingly close when he grabs your wrist, removing your fingers carefully as you try and resist, wanting to finish what you started, you’re about to whine when he begins unzipping his pants. You can feel your pussy clenching at the very sight of him, of course he isn’t wearing any underwear under his dress pants so the second his zipper is fully down his cock springs free.

Javier fucking Peña has a gorgeous cock.

Standing stiff and proud without either one of you even having to touch it. Pretty and pink on the tip, already leaking down the shaft. And heavy, as he takes it in his hand, his other hand gripping your waist as lines himself at your entrance. He takes a moment, eyes scanning your face, silently asking for permission.

You can’t nod fast enough but the second that you do he slides into you.

You could never conjure up something this good in your fantasies. The way he fills you, stretching you open as he whimpers into the fabric of his tie, you like that he listened, that he kept it in his mouth this long. His strokes are needy and fast, like he’s been waiting for this for so long and now he can’t help but be ravenous. You were already painfully close before he filled you with his perfect cock, it takes only a few minutes for you to be right back there. His fingers dig into your waist so hard that you’re certain he’ll leave marks as he slams in and out of you, pulling out almost entirely with every thrust.

You’re vaguely aware of the sound of his trinkets rolling off his desk and onto the floor.

“Javi, Javi, Javi.” Between gasps you chant his name, the sound encouraging him as he pushes in deep, his pelvis grinding against your clit until you see stars. Your cunt clenching around him as your orgasm is ripped out of you. Messy and loud and blurry, he fucks you through it. You’re so blissed out you can barely focus on the persistent pounding into you until you manage to come back to your senses and his hands leave your waist, instead intertwining with your fingers as his hips twitch forward and you feel him hastily pull out of you.

He spits his tie out, opting to instead bite your shoulder as he comes, the groan that leaves his throat is obscene. Raspy and filthy as he collapses down on top of you, the two of you sweating and gasping amongst the paperwork and pens now scattered across his desk.

Did that really just happen?

He manages to collect himself first, leaning back and tucking himself into his pants before quickly tending to you. He grabs a few tissues, wiping your stomach where the product of your activities lay, before redressing you, slipping the flats that had slipped off, back onto your feet, pulling your skirt back down to cover you as he slides your panties back into place, and retrieving your bra and sweater, lifting you into a sitting position as he redresses you, kissing your cheeks, nose, and forehead the entire time.

“All good?” He whispers, gentler than you’ve ever heard him as you nod, grinning.

“Good enough to make me forgive you for not getting me a present.” You reach into his drawer, grabbing your keys before sliding off of his desk.

“Maybe this was your present.” He tilts his head, kissing you again, smiling all the while.

“That was the perfect gift then.” Probably the best you’ve ever gotten.

“Are you gonna stay for the rest of the party?” He takes your hands in his, his thumbs absentmindedly rubbing circles into your skin.

“I think I need to go to bed after that.” You laugh as you jingle your keys, turning towards the door as he catches your lips in another kiss.

It makes your heart flutter. The continued affection makes you think this isn’t a one time thing. You want more. You want conversations about feelings, and to talk about what just happened, you want to feel him inside you again, and the look in his eyes tells you that you’re going to get all of that. But right now you’re tired, so the rest can wait.

“Can I walk you to your car?” You nod as he murmurs.

He doesn’t let go of your hand, walking you out of the building towards your car, opening the door for you and giving you one last kiss with a promise that he’d call you tomorrow, before you watched him walk back into the building.

Your phone buzzes as you turn your key in the ignition, the sound of Wham! fills the car, Last Christmas playing softly. You take your phone out of your pocket, checking the text notification from Javier.

[ i forgot to tell you how pretty your nails are. merry christmas hermosa ]

Your head turns up in surprise as you realize your radio is working. A new radio system is installed in the center of your dashboard, with a little green bow taped to the top, and a paper tag with Javi’s familiar messy handwriting.

from : your secret fucking santa

a/n : happy holidays everyone!!

#pedrostoriesgift23 #lincolndjarin #taro-666 <3 #javier pena smut #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal

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wardenparker · 10 months

Text

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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undercoverpena · 1 year

Text

nowhere to run | masterlist

javier peña x f!reader (DEA!agent reader)

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field.

series themes + warnings: season three spoilers, somewhat complaint with season three. smut. p in v. oral sex. panic attacks/anxiety/PTSD. work colleagues who fuck, and then catch feels.

by continuing to read, you’re confirming you’re 18+

COMPLETE

chapter one - fairy lights

chapter two - coffee + fruit

chapter three - file room + accusations

chapter four - sunshine yellow

chapter five - a new day

chapter six - believe in us

chapter seven - you could never say too much

chapter eight - darkest times, that you now know

chapter nine - not his place. not your place

chapter ten - the day which rips and tears

chapter eleven - goodbyes are not that sweet

nowhere to run one-shots post series

▸ coming home

▸ dancing in the kitchen

#narcos x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x dea!reader #javier peña #javier peña x you

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softpascalito · 11 months

Text

javier peña x f!dea!reader - we got your back - chapter 2

Summary: You work as a new DEA agent alongside Peña and Murphy. A not-so-kind colleague reveals more about you than you would like. Also, who the hell is still in the office in the middle of the night?

Relationships: Javier Peña x FemReader

WC: ~2800

Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow burn, mention of canon-typical violence, no beta we die like Colonel Carrillo, family Issues, they arent specified but reader is implied to be from a dysfunctional family, Steve is here too, literal sleeping together, one bed trope if you squint, tac vest javi

AO3 LINK // PART 1 // PART 3 (on tumblr)

Notes:

helllooo! i am really proud of this chapter and ofc i had to put tac vest javi in because i am a slut <3 comments are very welcome, have a great day!

spanish translations can be found at the end :)

_______________________________

Chapter 2

The rest of the day passes without any hiccups. You can only assume that either Javi or Steve have made good of their promise to make sure that Raquel doesn't bother you again. You can't say you regret it.

Throughout the afternoon, you find both men glancing over at you more frequently, evidently making sure you're okay. Noone mentions the events that took place in the same room mere hours before. Not that anyone other than Steve and Javi really cared. Office gossip existed just as it did anywhere else but so far, you had steered clear from it. The DEA section had more important things to do either way.

You watch the clock go by. You can't really see the sunset from the office. The windows aren't very large to begin with and the curtains are always required to be closed. Safety and all that. As a few wayward rays of the sunshine steal their way into the office, most of your coworkers start packing up. You don't.

When you had arrived in Bogotá after a long flight and a daunting drive to your apartment, you had stood in your new home in shock. The embassy had apartments of all sorts all over the city. It was helpful to use different comunas for safehouses. Most agents lived in the northern part of the city in fancy highrise buildings guarded by fences and security. Some, especially the ones that were doing a lot of undercover work, had apartments in slightly more dangerous places. As did you. It was a tiny bit closer to the embassy than the northern city apartments. The first few nights you had barely slept, scared that someone would break down your door. Judging by the way it hung off the hinges slightly, it wouldn't take a lot of effort. Then there were the gunshots. They weren't uncommon, really, but they still scared the shit out of you. You knew how to handle yourself in combat, you'd successfully completed the grueling weeks of DEA training after all, but gunshots during a raid with a bulletproof vest strapped to your chest were something different from gunshots during your dinner time at the small, wooden table with nothing but your pajamas on. Or worse, when you were sleeping. Or at least trying to. You don't even notice that Steve is leaving until you hear Javier call after him:” Give Connie my best.” He looks after his partner for a moment before his gaze wanders over to you. When your eyes meet, you quickly force yourself to look away. The files in front of you. You're not sure how long this one has been on your desk but you don't seem to be making any progress. Whenever the search bloc finds something that could be of importance, you are given 24 hours to look through it, make copies and find any potential clues. So that is what you're doing. The murky paper in your hands feels like it's going to suffocate you. But between this and another sleepless night at your apartment, you feel like the choice is an obvious one. Javier is still looking at you. You can feel his gaze on you as you try and continue reading the file. Has he noticed you've read the same page about four times? “You should go home too. Get some rest.” His voice rips you out of your thoughts and back into the present. You simply shake your head, muttering something about the time limit and not wanting to piss Carrillo off and to your surprise, Javi actually lets it go.

Or, you think he does. That is until half an hour later when he leans against your desk again. “Hermosa, I appreciate you doing this but you look like you're about to fall off that chair.” He raises his hand and when you follow his movement you can see his car keys dangling from it:” I'll drive you?” He offers and if you weren't so irritated by your lack of sleep and, well, everything else, you would almost think it's cute how much he cares.

You don't feel like arguing so you just stay quiet and focus your attention back onto your paperwork. He groans a little in annoyance but the two of you know each other well enough to know that neither wants to give in. You're just as stubborn as he is. “Look, how about I-”

You never actually learn what he thinks will get you to change your mind because he is cut off by his walkie springing into action. It's the second raid being conducted tonight and someone is asking if the DEA wants to send an agent. You're not sure why they even bother to ask. Javier will happily jump into action at a moment's notice, no matter the time. You watch him as he shoves his cigarette between his lips to unlock his desk drawer with two hands, pulling out his gun and a tac vest. “Be careful,” you say, too late. He is already hurrying down the hall. You're not sure how long he is gone when your head begins to droop, sleep slowly but surely taking over. With a frustrated huff, you get up from your chair, ignoring the creak it gives as you push it aside.

The jacket will do fine, you think, as you sit down against the nearest wall, wrapping it around yourself to give your body some sort of signal that it can relax. In the back of your mind, you remember that someone kept a blanket and pillow around, just in case, but you're not sure where it is and even if you did, you feel like your body might not want to get up again just now.

Sleeping in the office isn't allowed, technically, but you know that Javier and Steve have done it before. Likely, more than once. You set an alarm on your watch to make sure you'll be up before anyone starts to arrive in the morning. You hadn't expected him to come back. You should have known, really. ___________________________________________

Something had been off. None of them got nearly enough sleep as was, but today you had seemed like you were barely there. Javier wasn't sure if it had anything to do with what had happened earlier with Vázquez but either way, he didn't like the way you had looked. So, when he finally left the lab they had raided, he decided to drive back to the embassy instead of going home. Surely enough, there you are. Huddled into a corner in the dimly lit room, breathing steady with your eyes closed. He sighs as he takes in your form for a moment, already knowing you'll wake up to back pain from the way your body is twisted up against the concrete wall. Javier crouches down in front of you and for a moment, he considers not waking you at all, simply lifting you up and carrying your form into his car to get you home. He isn't sure if it's the concern of startling you or the anger he'd inevitably have to face if he did, but he lets it go, settling on giving you a gentle nudge instead. “Wake up, dormilona ,” He hums softly, his brown eyes focused on you as he gives you a moment to regain consciousness. You wake up the way you always do, slowly at first and then with a start. Your eyes fly open to stare at his form, taking in his gaze on you and the tac vest he's still wearing, and you blink a few times in confusion. When you don't say anything, Javi gives a small chuckle and gently grabs your jacket before standing and picking up his car keys once more. He rummages through his drawer for a moment before finding another cigarette and lighting it. When he turns back to you and sees you still slouched against the wall, his eyebrows involuntarily go up a bit.

He ponders for a moment before he opens his mouth:” Vamos, get up.Te llevo a casa.” It comes out as a mumble but in the empty office, it's still loud enough for you to hear. It's not as much of a question this time, more of a gentle command. You sigh, your shoulders dropping involuntary. You don't want to explain, don't want him to know, but you're too tired to put up a fight. His gaze is still lingering on you and you distantly wonder if this is the longest he has ever looked at you. “No quieres ir a casa.” He says gently, and again, it's more of a statement than a question. God, he sees through you so easily. “No.” You admit silently, finally averting your own gaze. Both of you stay quiet for a moment. Him waiting for an explanation and you trying to think of one. Again, you feel the need to close your eyes but you know better. Just get it over with. “It freaks me out a little bit. The empty apartment. And it's so far from the embassy, from everyone.” From you, you add in your mind. Not that you'd ever admit it out loud. Javi slowly crosses the space between you in a few long strides and crouches down next to you again. He takes a drag of his cigarette as he looks at you, waiting for you to go on. “The gunshots creep me out. And I-” You shake your head ever so slightly:” This is stupid,” you mutter under your breath:” I never really unpacked. I didn't want everything- the pictures of-” You can feel yourself getting choked up at the thought of your family pictures and simply bow your head a little. If Javier thinks your explanation is stupid, he doesn't say so. To your surprise, he doesn't say anything for a while. You're the one to break the silence:” Look, you can leave. I'll be fine.” He looks at you, cocking his head a little as he seems to consider something.

“No.” No? At that, your head whips around to find him standing up and pressing his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. His face doesnt convey any emotion, and you silently curse him for his poker face. “No?” You repeat, still a little dumbfounded. That gets a small chuckle out of him. “Me quedaré,” He says, as if that explains anything. When he looks down at you and sees the confusion evident in your features, his gaze softens a bit:” Vamos. Come on.” He stretches out a hand to pull you up, gives a quick glance towards the clock on the wall and then leads the way into a small office room that you know Murphy and him use for file storage. Indeed, there are several old file cabinets placed on both sides of the cramped room. The blinds are shut and when you follow his gaze, you notice a small couch that looks like it's been here since the Embassy was built. Maybe even before.

“I crash here sometimes. It's a hell lot more comfortable than a concrete wall, don't you think?” He teases softly but his tone immediately lets on that he isn't serious. At an inviting gesture from him, you sit down and immediately sink into the cushions a little, involuntarily giving a small sigh. It is a hell lot more comfortable. “Here,” he pulls a worn-down blanket from one of the drawers and along with your jacket, throws it over at you. To your surprise, you catch both before looking back at him as he starts to undo his tac vest. You want to say something. Something smart or at least funny. But your mind is still so tired so you just keep looking at him.

That is until he catches your gaze, his small signature grin creeping back onto his face:” Like what you see?” He asks as he throws the vest into the corner, left in one of his white short-sleeved shirts:” Or are you sleeping with your eyes open?” You roll your eyes ever so slightly and give a small huff:” Both .” You shoot back, trying to ignore the underlying message in both your words. When you glance over at him and see him sit down on the floor, you give him a look:” What are you doing?” “It's called being a gentleman, querida,” He replies, that small grin on his face again. Even if this wasn't Javi, or if he wasn't as attractive as he is with his stupid faithful eyes and small brown curls, you weren't going to let him kill his back by sleeping on the office floor.

“It's your couch.” You try gently, hoping he'll take you up on the offer. He glances up at you from where he is sitting, cocking an eyebrow:” Technically, it's George Bush's couch.” You can't help the small chuckle that escapes your lips as you shift a little to make room for him:” Get your ass over here, Javier.” The use of his full name seems to make him understand that you won't back down on this one and with a small sigh, he gets up again and crosses the space between you before sitting down next to you. “You okay with turning the light off?” He asks, his consideration taking you by surprise once more. You murmur a small agreement and feel him shift as he reaches over to turn off the small lamp placed on one of the file cabinets. A few orange rays from the streetlight are falling in through the blinds, just enough to make out his form beside you. You're not sure if you've ever seen him up this close and you allow yourself to study his features for a moment, the way his nose perfectly aligns with the small crease in his forehead, his breaths escaping through his slightly parted lips.

The couch is too small for you two to not touch but to your surprise, the warmth beside you is somewhat comforting. You're squished between the backrest and him and if you weren't so tired, maybe your brain would think further, more. But it doesn't. Nor do you. He has his arms crossed, no doubt thanks to a lack of other comfortable and, well, unassuming positions. You watch his form through the corner of your eye. You break the silence.

“How did she know?” You ask silently and you feel him tense ever so slightly beside you. Of course he instantly knows what you're talking about. “They have files on all of us. What we do here, what we did before DEA.” He gives a small shrug:” I'm assuming she saw yours in passing.” At that, a new fear creeps into your chest, one that seems a lot worse and scary than Vázquez could ever be. “Have you seen them?”

Even in the dark, you can see him turn his head slightly to look at you. He studies your face for a moment. You're not sure if he finds what he is looking for but after a moment of silence, he hums.

“No, I haven't.” “Okay.”

Your answer makes it clear you trust him. Javier wouldn't lie to you. Not on this, at least. He seems to follow your train of thought, his eyes never leaving yours. “Are you okay, cariño?” He asks silently. You instantly know he isn't talking about Vázquez or the files or even Colombia. He is talking about something without knowing what it actually is. It makes your heart ache a little. “Yeah.” You mumble back and you think you mean it. Right now? It doesn't seem so bad.

“You know you can always talk to me, right? I won't judge.” He isn't sure if you're ashamed of anything in your past, if that is the reason why you're so hesitant to talk about it. He just knows that something is there that gives your features a look he doesnt like on you. He wishes he could take it away.

“I know.” You simply say, again meaning your words. Before the silence between you can get too overwhelming, you add:” Lets get some sleep, yeah? Estoy cansada.”

“Yeah, me too.” He mumbles and he seems to hesitate for just a moment before he reaches out and wraps an arm around you, pulling you into him ever so gently. His movements are slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted to. You don't. If anything, you cuddle a bit closer to him, taking in the way his shirt feels on your skin, the way his arm seems to fit so perfectly around you. In return, you move the blanket a bit, readjusting it until it covers him and you. Again, both of you still.

He is the one to break the silence this time.

“ Vázquez can suck my dick.”

He thinks he can still hear you giggling as you're drifting off to sleep.

____________________________________________

hermosa - beautiful

dormilona - sleepyhead

vamos - let's go

te llevo a casa - i am taking you home

no quieres ir a casa - you don't want to go home

me quedaré - i'm staying

querida - dear

cariño - honey (romantic nickname)

estoy cansada - i am tired

_________________________________

thank you for reading, subscribe on ao3 if you like and maybe leave a comment? <3

#javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena imagine #javier peña imagine #javi peña #javier pena fic #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x you #javier peña x you #javier peña x y/n #narcos fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrito #javier peña x dea!reader #javier peña x female reader #softpascalito

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marvelwitchergilmore · 11 months

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To Shitty Days and Shitty Families

Summary: Javier Peña x Fe!Reader - Your parents come to Columbia to visit you at work only they seem to be more interested in your personal life than they do your work.

Disclaimer: Shitty families, patriarchy I suppose. Swearing, angst, ideology that women are only fit for marriage- reader argues against this point. Reader stands up for herself, Javi talks with her folks when she leaves.

You had been dreading it all day since first listening to your answering machine that morning. And everyone could see it in you. Steve had taken one look at you as he stood outside the complex kissing goodbye to Connie and knew something was wrong.

“You look like someone just shot you.” Connie added. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. I-I’ll see you at work.”

By the time you pulled up to work, you spent half of the day bouncing your leg under the desk as you tried your best to fill out the usual paperwork and the only time you said what was going on, out loud, was when you were stood on the steps of the Embassy with Peña as he smoked his cigarettes. Despite you having a habit of removing them from him, he still continued to smoke.

“Who are you looking for? You look like Steve when he goes duck hunting.”

“My parents are coming.”

“To the Embassy.”

“The Embassy, Columbia. Here. Wherever.”

“And you’re worried because…”

“Because they haven’t talked to me in almost three years and now are coming to Columbia.”

“That’s nice.”

“No. No it’s not.”

Peña nodded. “Okay.”

“If you see a cab pull up, shout for me, okay?”

“Sure.” Peña could see the worry in your eyes as you searched the parking lot once more before turning around and heading back inside.

Only, Peña wasn’t outside when they turned up. So, instead, they walked inside, found your desk and stood there, examining the mess and tutting.

“She could never keep anything tidy. Always messy. Always the family mess.”

“Can I help you?” Steve asked as he approached.

Somehow, from the time it took you walking from the evidence room after hearing the familiar click of heels to reaching your desk, your mother had already seemed to have painted herself a saint to Murphy and Peña.

“Where is she anyway? You know, she could never keep time in high school, either. Always marked late.”

Both Peña and Murphy highly doubted that since you were always early - to everything. Hell, you’d get into work an hour earlier than them. But, they decided not to question your mother who already seemed distracted in scanning your entire body with her eyes making you suddenly aware of your skin and one of the many reasons why you were glad you left the states.

Your mother awkwardly moved in to hug you, making the whole thing a clear spectacle for onlookers. “You’ve gotten thicker, dear.”

“Mom.”

“Oh, just a jest, dear. Just a jest.” your mother laughed. “I’ve just met your bosses.”

“They’re not my bosses, mom. They’re my partners.”

“Oh.” That seemed to be the first shock to your mom. “Well, they’re handsome all the same and since you all seem to be friends, I’ve invited them to dinner with us tonight. And you’ll be bringing your wife, no doubt Agent Murphy?”

Steve nodded, though the look from you made him question if he should have said yes.

“Wouldn’t miss meeting your parents for the world, Agent.” Steve smiled at you.

“I’ve left you a note on your desk on where to meet us. If you can find it amongst this mess. And 7 o’clock sharp, dear. I know what you’re like for time keeping. It was nice to meet you boys. See you all soon.”

You wanted the ground to swallow you whole and take you to Hell now.

Far too soon for your liking, 7 o’clock rolled around.

Murphy and Connie were already there with your parents, sat in the very back of the restaurant, glasses of wine just poured. Peña must have only just arrived as he was still standing and seemed a little out of breath as he made his way round, kissing your mother’s cheek, Connie’s and shaking your father’s hand whilst he shook Steve’s shoulder.

“Late again, I see.” your mother said as you finally reached the table.

“By two minutes, mom. I had to find parking.”

“Never mind, you’re here now, finally.” Your mom seemed to stress the word ‘finally’ before turning to Steve and Connie. “Shall we order? I know it takes my daughter a while to choose what she wants. She’s always been like that with her life.”

You tried your best to keep your breathing steady. “Mom.”

“What?” your mother laughed. “Oh, I’m just joking, honey. You know that.”

You looked to your napkin covered plate, trying to subtly take in deep breaths. “You okay?”

You looked to your left as leaned into Peña who, for the first time in a while, seemed…concerned. You faked a smile as best as you could. “I’m fine.”

“So, Peña.”

“Javi, please.”

“Javi.” your mother smiled. “You’re working with Steve to catch Escobar? Oh, that must be so dangerous. But, I’m sure someone like yourself is able to handle it.”

“He works with me, too, mom.” you pointed out only, she seemed to ignore that.

Javi looked at you for a quick moment before turning back to your mother. “It’s dangerous for anyone being an American in Columbia.”

From across the table, Connie shot you a look which, in total honesty, you didn’t fully know if you returned it. All you wanted to do was get over this meal and go home.

“I am famished.” Connie announced. “What are we all eating?” she scanned her eyes over the menu and you tried your best to thank her telepathically across the table.

“Well, I’m sure my daughter is still deciding.”

“Actually, I know what I want, mom.”

“Oh, well…that’s a change.”

By the time the waiter came around and took your order, your mother trying to order and loudly shouting Spanish in a very clear American accent, you were ready to leave.

You gave your order, your voice at a normal decibel, your Spanish rolling off the tongue, your mother looked to you slowly. “No need to show off, dear.”

“I wasn’t-”

“Darling, just because your mother doesn’t have the best Spanish, doesn’t mean you should make her look stupid.”

“What? I-”

Before you could even think about finishing your sentence, your mother turned to Connie. “Constance, dear.”

“Please, call me Connie.”

“Of course, honey.” your mother smiled. “Tell me, what is married life like? I remember when I married my dear, dear husband. Oh, I was so happy.”

Your mother continued to ramble about her wedding day - a story you had heard every day of your life before you left to join the DEA in Columbia. Meanwhile, you took a large gulp of your wine trying to convince yourself it was whiskey from Peña’s desk drawer and instead of being sat in a candle-lit restaurant, you were back at your desk, drowning in work files all the while the alcohol burned your throat.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you whispered under your breath and in return you felt Peña’s hand lay itself on your thigh.

“Just give me a signal and I’ll get us all out of here. I think Steve is about to throw himself out of the door.”

“I wouldn’t blame him.”

Peña smiled at you before turning back to the rest of the table where you found your mother still talking.

“Oh, and when my Rosie got married? Oh, that was the happiest day of my life!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“Oh, dear, you know what I mean.”

“It’s not kind to poke fun at your mother, darling.” your father added.

“But it was. It was the happiest day of my life seeing my darling daughter get married and have a good, strapping man on her arm.”

“There’s more to life than just getting married, mom.” This has been your argument your entire life. Your mother always wanted you to get married and the day you said you were leaving for Columbia instead of announcing your engagement to your now ex-boyfriend…that was a long day.

“Don’t argue with your mother, darling.”

You took another deep breath and another gulp of wine.

“Don’t drink too much, dear. We wouldn’t want you to embarrass the family anymore.”

It was still your first glass. And it, somehow, miraculously, remained half full.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh, look, here comes the food.” Connie announced as the waiter approached.

Thankfully, this deterred the conversation for fifteen minutes whilst the waiter handed the correct dishes to each person. Your mother thanked them rather loudly once more.

“Mom, they’re not deaf. You don’t have to yell.”

Your father called your name. “Don’t be rude to your mother.” he scolded.

“Oh, no, dear. Don’t worry. She’s just on one tonight.” your mother replied before sitting back down and looking at your plate in disgust. “Are you really going to eat all of that?”

It was a normal sized bowl with chicken soup and bread. Except, the way your mother spoke to you made it sound as if the bowl was a sharing size and was filled with nothing but crap.

“You know, I could have ordered for you.”

“I don’t want salad, mother.”

“Well, forgive me for trying to look out for the well-being of my child.”

“Why don’t you just focus on yourself and Rosie and I’ll be completely fine.”

It was now that your mother looked to Connie, Steve and Javi. “I am so sorry about her. She gets like this sometimes. I told her, if she married the man she had, she wouldn’t be this uptight and worried.”

“I didn’t want to marry Daniel, mom. You know that.”

“I understand you like to rebel against me and make me out as the bad guy, y/n. But, one day, you will realise I’m just doing what is best for you.”

“Best for me or best for you, mom?”

“Now, what exactly are you excusing me for, dear?”

“Darling, don’t pick a fight here. I understand you like to make a scene but-”

“Make a scene?”

“She was always dramatic as a kid,” your mother explained to the rest of the table.

“Mom, please don’t talk about me as if I’m not here.”

“See,” your mother tried to point out. “Even at Rosie’s wedding, she tried to stop it.”

“Because she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get married!” you raised your voice a little.

“But she did! And now she had two beautiful little children and a wonderful home and a caring husband. Don’t shout at me just because you wanted her life. Because you could have had it.”

“You think I want her life? Sat at home looking after two children whilst her husband flies from state to state and barely knows his own children?”

“Maybe we should-” Connie went to stand but your mother put her hand out to her.

“No, dear, please, sit down.” your mother smiled. “She’s just annoyed that her life isn’t how she thought it would be.”

“I didn’t want to marry him, mom.” you repeated. “Can you hear me?”

“Just eat your soup, dear.” your mother scolded. “There is no need to embarrass me any further.”

“Your mother is right, darling. Why don’t you eat your soup? If you're not happy with it, your mother will happily order you a salad.”

“I said I didn’t want a salad.”

“Remember dear, a moment on the lips, forever on the hips.” one of your mother’s favourite quotes. “And from here I can already see some of the fat building. You know you’ll never get a husband looking like that or doing what you do.”

“I don’t want a husband!” you yelled. “I didn’t want to marry Danny or stay in America. You! You wanted me married off so you could brag to your friends that your daughters got married before Carrie’s. You’d rather have me marry someone I never loved, someone who would rather sleep with every woman on legs in the whole fucking city, including the darling daughters of your friends, than have me join the police academy and come to Columbia.”

“Dear, lower your voice. People are staring!” your mother scolded through gritted teeth.

“I did something with my life, mom.” you pointed out. “Any parent would be proud if they’re kid was happy. But no, not you. You’d only be happy if I lived by your rules and followed your footsteps to a life of complete fucking boredom.”

“You should watch your mouth, young lady.” your mother warned. “No one wants a woman who has a mouth like you.”

All you could do was let out a laugh whilst holding back your anger as best as you could. “You know what, mom. I-I can’t do this. Just…just go home. Tell Rosie I’m alive or tell her nothing. I wouldn’t want to be an embarrassment to you anymore than I already have. Sorry, guys.”

You apologised quickly to your teammates before you threw your napkin onto the table and grabbed your jacket. You laid a couple bills on the table before walking away. The waiter must have watched the whole thing because, as you made your way to the exit, he gave you a bittersweet smile.

“I’ll wrap your food up and have Popsy send it over.”

“That’s alright,” you replied. “I’m not hungry anymore.”

With that, you left the restaurant and headed to your car before driving away. Meanwhile, back at the table, Steve, Connie and Javi all sat in shock. You never revealed much about your family but whatever they had just witnessed was the last thing they thought they’d ever expect. Even as it happened, none of them could comprehend it.

“On that note, we’re going to take off.” Steve announced standing up before asking the waiter if they could have the rest of their food packed to-go. However, Javi remained seated. Connie leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before Steve shook his hand and they both left with the brown bag in their hand.

“I’m-”

“You should be proud of her, you know.” Javi said before confirming your name so they knew 100% completely who he was talking about. “Before she came down here, we weren’t really getting anywhere. But within days of her arrival, she had most of that place in order. We caught plenty of people and stopped a £3 billion worth shipment of coke from getting into the states because of her.”

“She gets that from me.” your mother said, but Javi just…smiled.

“Maybe. But I highly doubt it.” your mother’s face dropped and your father was about to argue back, but Javi cut him short. “Who she is…that can’t be taught. That’s learned, from first hand experience. Sure, she’s not married, but she is respected. But a shit ton of people. Hell, if she tells the Ambassador not to do something, they listen to her. Because she’s good at her job. Just because she’s not you, does not give you the right to see her as nothing more than a problem to be solved or an embarrassment. She’s not lucky to have you two as parents, but you are lucky to have her. To be able to call her and talk to her and know her. Don’t take her for granted because sooner or later, you won’t even have the privilege of calling her your daughter.”

“Are you threatening us, son?”

“No.” Javi shook his head, standing. “I’m saying if I was her, I would have dropped you years ago. Instead, you get to call her your daughter. But I doubt even now that you have that opportunity. Like she said, there’s more to life than getting married. And she’s living proof of that. Don’t ignore her like I expect you have been doing her whole life, just because she’s not the living poster girl of your planned out life.”

With that, Javi laid his own share of the bill on the table before walking outside, lighting a cigarette and walking to his car. He doubted you would have gone home in case your mother came looking for you to yell at you some more. And he was right in his thinking because, as he did a tour of the Embassy parking lot, he found your car parked alone. He parked a couple spots down from you before squashing the smoke under his shoe and walking inside. From there, he found you sat at your desk no longer dressed in the dinner dress but rather a pair of black trousers and a black shirt. So, you’d been at the gun range. He could see the oiled cuticles of your fingers as you reached for your disposable coffee cup. The hair that had rested in soft curls was now thrown up into a messy ponytail that held itself up under the command of your bobble.

What he guessed was that through stress, some of the hairs had fallen from your head and haphazardly framed your face under the orange light of your desk lamp.

On your desk, he could see the soft trail of smoke from a cigarette. You weren’t a smoker. Hell, you’d pulled enough cigarettes, both lit and unlit, from his own lips before to stop him from smoking. So, when you didn’t do it that morning as he stood beside you on the steps of the Embassy, that should have been his first warning about how bad the day would go.

Though he couldn’t blame you. If he were you, he probably would have gone through 2 packs of cigarettes by now.

He watched you as you took a long drag from the cigarette, letting the smoke fill your lungs until they were over spilling. Even then, you took in some more air as you moved it away from your lips, letting it rest lazily between your two fingers as you rested the rest of your head against your hand.

Slowly, you let the smoke release itself from your lungs before you took another deep breath of fresh air this time, and opened your eyes.

“Don’t judge me.” you told Javi when you spotted him standing at the steps of the office. But, he just smiled and walked closer, going first to his desk, before bringing his bottle of whiskey and two glasses with him to your desk.

“Oh, no judgement here.” Javi told you before sitting down across from you and pouring a decent amount of liquor into each glass.

Handing you one, you thanked him. “To shitty days.”

“And shitty families.” you laughed before clinking the glass together and taking a rather large gulp and letting it burn your insides as it made its way down.

Javi sat back in silence for a few moments watching you. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know.” you answered honestly. “Part of me wants to scream, the other wants to cry and the rest…just is thankful it’s over.”

“Have they always been like that?”

“My whole life.” you said. “Rosie was their perfect little girl. Always listened. Did everything without question. Danced perfect ballet at her recitals. Would always sing beautifully and could quote Shakespeare off the cuff.”

Javi furrowed his brows. “I’ve heard you speak Shakespeare. English and Spanish. You put the local production to shame.”

You narrowed your eyes a little, “Not as well as Rosie.”.

Taking another drink, you mirrored Javi by leaning back in your own chair. “God, I remember being so jealous of her as a kid. She was always the teacher’s favourite. She could never put a foot wrong. I’d make one spelling mistake in my English essay in 5th grade and they called in my parents telling them I was distracted. That I was slipping from my education. My mother grounded me for a month and gave me a lecture every day about how Rosie was this perfect child and why couldn’t I be the same? You know, I never got into trouble at school. I got good grades, I listened to all of my teachers, I even won the local baking competition.”

“You bake?”

You smiled. “I bake. I entered it without my mom’s permission and got my teacher to sign off on it. But, God, you should have seen the look on all the parent’s faces. “She only won because they feel sorry for her.”, and then the kids started saying the same thing to me at school. The only time where I wasn’t compared to my sister was in the Academy. It was the first time I felt I belonged somewhere.”

You took another deep breath, “Jesus, you don’t want to hear about this.”

But Javi shook his head. “No. Continue.”

You looked in his eyes for a moment, seeing if he was being serious. And, once you realised he was, you slowly sat back again and continued.

“So, you joined the academy?” Javi asked, helping you pick up where you left off.

You nodded a small thanks and continued. “I joined the Academy and,” you laughed a little, “when my mom found out, she went ballistic. God, it was like I shot her puppy. Or Rosie, godforbid. So you can imagine, when I turned up one afternoon and told her I was moving to Columbia instead of going house hunting with Danny, - who I had broken up with, by the way, six months earlier - you can imagine how she took it. Said I was just jealous and running away because my sister was getting married. That I just wanted the spotlight for myself but the biggest thing was…I didn’t. I just wanted to disappear. I didn’t want people’s eyes on me or have a spotlight on my name. Any time it was, it was always because I was a disgrace to the family name. That I wasn’t Rosie. But…on her wedding day, I realised….I realised I wasn’t jealous of her. In fact, when she came and found me and asked me if she was doing the right thing…I felt sorry for her. But that didn’t last long because at the drop of a hat, when I said she didn’t have to marry him, that she could come with me or I could get her a plane ticket to wherever she wanted, she accused me of wanting to ruin her wedding and her life. That I was jealous of her because I couldn’t find someone to love me the way her husband does her. And, that mom was right. That I would never find anyone because what person in their right mind would want to love someone like me.”

There was other stuff that you didn’t mention to Javi, about what else your sister had said and what your mother clearly agreed with. But, after the meal tonight, he could take a pretty good guess.

“So, what did you do?”

You took a breath, forcing the tears back into your eyes. “I did what she asked for that day. I sat out of the wedding. Sat at the back. Stayed out of everyone’s way to avoid ruining her wedding. And halfway through the reception, I left. I didn’t even say goodbye. I thought about it, but I knew they wouldn’t have cared. They were in their own happy little world that didn’t need or even want me. So, I grabbed my bags, hailed a cab and got on the first flight into Columbia.”

“So, when you landed-”

“2 hours later, I was here starting work.” you confirmed.

“Did anyone know?”

“No.” you said, sitting back up and laying your glass on your desk. “Until a couple hours ago, no-one knew what my parents were like. I’m just…I’ll be glad when they’re back in the states. They didn’t even tell me they were coming and I woke up at 4 on the dot. I didn’t know why. I never usually do and then, an hour later, she left a message on my machine saying she was getting on her second flight and that she’s already arranged to have a cab pick her up from the airport since she knows that I’d probably still be in bed - the last time I was in bed past 8 o’clock I was on a flight to Miami.”

After a while of talking with Peña as he asked you questions about your childhood, he looked at the clock that read a quarter to midnight. “Come on, we better go home.”

“Javier Peña, in bed before 2 am? Is the world truly falling apart?”

Javi smiled at you, grabbing your jacket for you. “Come on, I’ll drive us home.”

“But you’ve had a drink-”

“I’m still under the limit.” Javi assured you. “Come on, let's go.”

By the time Javi pulled up outside of your apartment block, he locked his car behind him before you both went off in separate directions to your own apartments.

“Peña?”

He looked back from his door.

“Thank you, for today. It meant a lot, seriously.”

Javi smiled at you before unlocking his door and opening it up. “Anything for you, hermosa. Goodnight.”

“Night,” you smiled back before entering your own home and closing the door behind you.

338 notes · View notes

itsharleystuff · 1 year

Text

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ 𝐌Í𝐀 ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

Gif not mine!

— 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Javier Peña x afab!fem reader (implied hispanic/latina)

— 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.3k

— 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a major fight between the two of you, a month goes by in which you give each other the silent treatment, figuring out if you should start seeing different people. However, Javier has a problem: he can’t get his dick hard for anyone that isn’t you. So, when he sees how easily you can move on from him, he gets awfully jealous.

— 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 18+ content (minors dni!), sex, possessive/jealous behavior, unprotected sex, p in v, cuffs, slight dirty talk, semi-public sex, use of ‘slut’, pet names (sweetheart, corazón, cariño, hermosa, etc.), praise kink, come eating, oral sex (f! & m! receiving), mentions of drugs, smoking, a bit of angst, very little plot (mostly filth), weirdly structured plot. I think that’s it.

— a/n: there’s some phrases and words in Spanish, some are translated and some aren’t. Let me know if translations are needed :)

No use of y/n.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Javier Peña has never been a jealous man.

It's simply never been in his nature, not even when he was a child playing around with toys that he loved to share. And nowadays? Well, he had other stuff in mind that didn't leave any room for those pedestrian feelings.

As of now, he -supposedly- didn't have anything to be worried about. Specially not women.

Everyone knew he fucked hookers so good that they'd spill all their secrets in his ear, and that he was attractive enough to leave a bar with company just after a couple of minutes from arriving there. But to anyone observant, it was obvious how bad he had it for you.

Still, that didn't stop him from being an asshole.

You remember the last time you two spoke and how it turned out to be a fucking disaster: basically, he didn't like the idea of exclusivity because it involved feelings that he wasn't ready to admit, so you had called him a slut (along with many other insults) and he'd said that you were childish and sensitive. So naturally, everything went downhill after that fight.

Currently, things were pretty tense with Javier, even at work. But things just got worse when the Colombian police sent you onto an undercover mission, nothing really extravagant but still quite dangerous. And apparently, the DEA knew nothing about it.

The task was rather simple: you'd go to one of Medellin's busiest nightclubs and find out if there was a cocaine distribution line working there. The problem was what the agent had overheard from Carrillo. Not only did he knew now that you were at the place, but he also had word that one of the cartel's most wanted sicarios was about to be there too. And knowing the Coronel as well as he did, you were right in the middle of a crossfire. He arrived at the club earlier than any of them, hoping to find you quickly and draw you out before the asset came in.

But, oh hell.

What he saw the minute he stepped in almost made him lose his shit.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

You had no business being in there this late. You'd already passed down all the information needed to your boss and now you were just waiting for the cartel's member to arrive so you could call Carrillo and let him finish the job.

But in the meantime, you decided to at least try and have some fun. After everything that went on with Peña, you felt like you deserved a distraction.

The music was loud, reggaetón reverberating in your body as you danced, eyes wide awake in case the target decided to show up. The stranger you were dancing with had his hands all over your body, holding you close to him while you moved in synch. He was handsome in a boyish way, and a bit clumsy, but good enough to take your mind off from the irritating DEA agent. At least for now.

To be honest, you didn't lack any attention at the moment. Both men and women would come up to you, hoping to get a piece of what you had to offer. It came without saying that everything about you tonight resulted appealing to the kind of people that frequented the place, being an undercover assignment you did your best to blend in. And it seemed to work out wonderfully. The flashy makeup and short dress that only accentuated your figure made you stand out amongst the rest; nevertheless, what really attracted everyone's gaze wasn't any of that, but the confidence with which you'd walk around the place like you owned it.

"¿Qué tal si nos vamos pa' un lugar más oscurito, mamacita?" (How about we go to a more private place?) The guy, whose name you didn't even know, proposed. And though the idea sounded nice, your job wasn't quite finished.

"Not yet, papi. Dame un par de canciones más." (Let's dance a bit more). He hummed in response, his hands traveling from your lower back to grab your ass firmly.

"Usted manda." (You call the shots). The answer made you smile cheekily as you lean in to him, hoping to connect his lips with yours.

However, you definitely didn't expect to be abruptly pulled back with force instead, ripping you apart from the man's hold.

"What the hell..." you start to complain and twist in the strangers grasp, who started to drag you out the dance floor and keeping your wrists behind your back.

"Hombre, ¿pero qué diablo' le pasa?" (What's wrong with you, man?). Asked your poor companion, glancing over at the guy that took you away from him.

But you knew exactly who he was even before he spoke. You'd recognize that musky cologne anywhere, mixed with the scent of cigarette smoke. Damn, even your body recognized him so well that the way his fingertips dig on your skin flooded your mind with memories from the past.

"Peña." You mutter through gritted teeth, not bothering to turn your head towards him.

"It's agent Peña to you, sweetheart." He snarls, completely blowing off anyone that would try to get in his way to lug you outside.

A new, fueled up rage crept up your spine while he harshly pulls you to te entrance, right were you see the colonel's target going in.

"Let go of me, mierda!" You struggle against him, not wanting to actually put on a fight but just make him reason. "I have a fucking job to do, so let go of me or..."

"Or what?" Javier spins you around carelessly, leaving your face so close to his that your breaths merged with each other's, chest pressed against your own as he keeps you still, his hands gripping you so hard that it would certainly leave bruises.

"I need to call Carrillo. I'm working, even if you don't believe it." You tell him, letting your racing heartbeat start to settle.

The man's eyes were dark, covered by a shadow of anger that matched his stern expression. He was always handsome, but whenever he'd get mad, Javi was hot. Although it was unusual for you to see him like this, him being always attentive and careful, though still very passionate. He would never explode, not even when the stress and tension became too much to handle. But then, you realize...

"No way..." you scoff, keeping direct eye contact. "You're jealous, aren't you?"

His reaction is immediate, turning your body again and flushing your face against the trunk of his jeep Cherokee, bending you over the car. You gasp audibly, feeling the cold metal under your cheek and his body towering upon you while he holds you down by the back of your neck. Javier's lips brush the top of your ear when he leans down to you.

"The fuck do I need to be jealous about, cariño?" He whispers lowly, his hot breath giving you goosebumps and making your knees tremble. "Eres mía, you've always been."

Ah, fuck.

Despite all the shit that you went through with him, the effect he had on you remained the same. No matter what, the agent was aware of it, conscious of how you'd always melt under his touch, he just knew all your sweet spots by core memory and what'll have you squirming underneath him. Yeah, even if your mind tried it's best to erase Peña, your body would always betray you.

"You lost your chance." You mutter in a bittersweet tone. "Now get the hell off me so I can finish my task."

He doesn't instantly let go, but eventually loosens the grip on your nape. Though right when you thought he'd actually let you free, there's a cold metallic sensation brushing on your wrist and you suddenly can't move your arms from your back. The motherfucker had just cuffed you.

"Malparido, hijo de..." You ramble, straightening your back to glance at him in exasperation.

"Don't move." He growls, opening the driver's door and taking his radio out. The agent starts to talk through it, but you're way too outraged as to pay any attention, your vision going red when you catch your name, the words 'Carrillo', 'sicario' and the place were you're at, figuring out that he's doing the part of the job that corresponded to you.

"You're sick, Peña." There's no reply to the snarky comment as he simply shoves you in the back of his truck, rather carefully, considering the situation.

You watch intently while he gets back on his seat, analyzing every detail about him. It wasn't anything special, you had seen him quite often at work after your fight, and nonetheless, now... Something seemed off.

Javier was wearing a red button shirt under his black leather jacket, from which he drew out a pack of cigs and a lighter. He appeared the same, however, you could sense the tension on his shoulders and back, the kind you'd help him deal with before, and it almost felt like he was holding back from doing something. Heck, you hated it. You completely despised arguing with him, being apart from the man almost made you physically unwell.

But that was the root of this whole problem. You were able to admit it; how much you liked him and didn't want anyone else. Him on the other hand, wasn't ready for all that. Although, despite him implying that he couldn't fully commit or correspond to your feelings... Right now, his actions were very contradicting.

Because Javier Peña never got jealous.

And yet, there he was.

Perhaps, if you spurred him on just enough and cornered him in a trap... Perhaps then, he'd be able to admit it.

"So what now, agent?" You wonder, laying your back flat on the leather sit, feeling the coldness of the material on your exposed skin and trying to find a comfortable position. "You mind explaining yourself?"

He looks at you through the rear-view mirror, brows furrowed and jaw clenched. A challenging fire shines in your eyes when you lock glances with him. But he doesn't say anything, simply starting the car and getting the windows down before lighting up a cigarette.

"What about you, sweetheart?" He asks, the fag hanging from between his lips as he starts driving away from the club. "Care for elaborating on your actions?"

You snort, gaze diverting towards the window. "I was just killing time."

The streets of Medellin were loud and busy, specially on the weekends. But at the moment, the paths were dark and quiet, as if everyone knew that there was a storm coming and they had to stay out of the hood.

"So that's your idea of 'killing time'?" He comes again, tapping the cigar out his window to leave the ashes behind. "Letting random men grope you in those wrenched bars?" You grin, still defying him with your attitude. "And yet, I'm the slut..."

"You must certainly are, Peña." You reply condescendingly, watching the road. "When I was with you, that was it. No one else even crossed my mind. But then, you? How many other women did you have besides me?"

He grunts, taking a long drag without looking back in your direction. You recognize certain spots and locals, but none of them were anywhere close to your apartment. Instead of asking were he was taking you to, the idea you previously had lingers on your mind.

Red light.

"You know, ever since we... Well, ghosted each other. I've actually had tons of fun." His eyes darkened, but no matter all the warning signs he was sending with his body, you just couldn't hold back anymore, starting to play a game that might get out of control. "Actually, you know that guy working with the CIA? Balcázar?"

Javier looked so gorgeous while driving. His big hands over the lever and muscles flexing whenever he'd make sudden moves. Even now, tense as an arrow an white-knuckling the wheel at your words, he was the hottest man you'd seen.

"Shit, he’s good..." you purr, slightly arching your back so he'll get a better view of your breasts, barely contained in that tiny dress you were wearing. "I really miss him. Hated it when he went back to New York."

His stormy glare was on you, watching closely every single move you made. Your legs were briefly parted, just enough for him to peek a sight of your laced underwear. The agent's breathing became ragged and he had to try his best to stay concentrated.

"Careful, cariño." You hear him rasp out with a hint of danger. "You really don't want to go there."

Green light.

He puts the cigarette out and throws the tail away carelessly.

"Ay, Peña." Your voice goes an octave lower, licking your lips. "Don't act like you haven't been to every brothel in the city trying to fill in my spot."

The man huffs a laugh, shaking his head in disapproval. "I know what you're doing." You look at him through your lashes, faking innocence and confusion. "But if you really want me to say it, there hasn't been anyone else."

"Yeah, right..." That mocking tone was really getting on his nerves.

"Not even when we were together." Javi sulks out.

"Then why was it so difficult for you to be serious with me?" You question grimly. "Do you not like me?"

His eyes bore back into yours somberly, as if you'd just said the stupidest thing in the world despite the graveness in your voice and expression, lazily scanning you head to toe.

"Like you?" It sounded like he was struggling not to come off sardonic, cocking an eyebrow at you. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

You lean in towards him when he takes an unexpected turn, inhaling his particular scent mixed with the leather and smoke. Suddenly, he parks the car someplace dark and empty that resembled an abandoned gas station. Kind of creepy, but you recognized the area now. It was a neighborhood located a couple of blocks away from his apartment.

"Why?" You coo, taunting, patiently testing how much he'd spill. But Javier won't meet your glance, focused on the nothingness ahead of him.

"Because I can't even get my dick hard for any other women, for fucks sake!" He howls, rubbing his face with his palm, clearly pissed.

At first, you thought he must've been joking. But the way he said it came out so frustrated that it made it hard to believe he was lying. His bold statement gave you a rush of power, knowing that you had him in mind and body, the man that made every woman he acquainted feel like a schoolgirl crushing on a senior. You understood why he was so mad right now; it wasn't only cause he was jealous, but because he hated seeing that you could easily move on to the next man while he remained stuck.

Though it was a lie. You only responded to him and you wanted to prove him that. But Javier had to acknowledge the mistake he made.

"Perhaps you're just old." You teased, "Have you tried pills for that?"

His reaction was so unexpected that you had barely any time to process the circumstances. He got out the car and opened the passenger's seat, tugging at your arm to get you out the jeep apprehensively.

"Take a guess, sweetheart." He grits next to your ear, his chest pressed to your back.

"Fucking hell..." you mewl at the feeling of Javier's hard boner firm against your ass. His hands hold your waist for a second before manhandling you to the edge of the back passenger's seat, hunching down in front of you with both hands gently gripping the exposed flesh of your thighs and looking up at you with fiery eyes.

"If you want me to say it, fine." He bites, giving up. "I made a mistake. It was stupid." Then his tone denotes the way he's struggling to contain anger. "I can't bear it. Seeing you with other men... It drives me insane. I can't even think straight- shit, I almost blew a whole ass operation tonight just because I saw you dancing with that guy." You gulp, remembering how furious he was just a few moments ago. "But let's not fool ourselves, cariño. We both know you haven't slept with anyone else either."

How he figured that out was a mystery to you. Maybe he truly was a very good agent.

There isn't a retort in your behalf. What could you possibly say anyway? He had you figured out already, he always did.

Back in the day, when you first started working with him, Javier acted like a complete shithead. Him an Murphy would give you a hard time with the DEA, always getting in trouble, messing up your schedules and bribing confidential information out of you. That's how you grew closer to him. Peña used to invite you for dinner or beers as an apology, granted that he always looked forward to take you back to his apartment, of course. Except you had heard the rumors regarding his reputation, and that was a well in which you weren't particularly eager to fall in, specially since he was a coworker.

Yet, it was all in vain. How could you ever say no to him if he'd look at you with those sparkly, deep brown eyes that resembled a lost puppy? You fell for Javi's smug smirk, the groovy hair, plus that confident and bite-back attitude of his, knowing how it would eventually end. Even so, no one could really blame you. He acted different around you, people were able to tell, brighter, more open and honest.

"See, I'm sorry about what I said..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Don't be. I deserved that shit." The man stands up, taking a bunch of keys from the pocket of his jeans and going to take off the cuffs. "You should feel sorry for all those poor guys you toyed with while thinking about me the whole time."

You stretch your arms and massage your wrists, unwilling to meet his intense gaze, conscious that you'd fall for his charm immediately. He worked smarter, grabbing your chin to raise your face towards him.

"Did you enjoy it?" He hissed, fingertips digging on your jaw with moderate force. "Having other men grab your ass while everyone watches? Teasing the hell out of me in the office with those obscenely tight skirts and talking to Murphy as if I wasn't right beside him?" Your tongue darts out to lick your lower lip, not breaking eye contact. "Answer me, corazón."

"Yes," you respond cockily, "I enjoyed it." His face swiftly sobered, a muscle feathering in his jaw. "But I didn't think it had any effect on you, so it felt like a waste of time and effort."

Javier laughs huskily, bending forward. You close your eyes, thinking he's going in for a kiss, but instead his lips go to rest on your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and all the way down to the valley of your breasts. As of now, you're a panting mess, already turned on by his adamant behavior. The fact that you were finally getting to feel him like this after a month or so of completely ignoring each other... It felt divine.

Your tug at his shoulder as he keeps nibbling the sensitive skin. The agent knew your body better than anyone else ever could, he'd memorized all the spots that would have you moaning and squirming underneath him, which was the case just now.

"Javi..." you sigh, running your hand through his hair.

"You're such a fucking brat." He reflects, kneeling between your parted legs. "A month ago I was merely a ghost to you, a few minutes prior I was simply 'Peña'. But when my lips are on you I'm suddenly 'Javi'?" He boasts with a devilish grin. "How convenient..."

"Mmm..." he laughs gruffly at your loss of words, his fingers hooking your underwear beneath the dress and slowly pulling it down.

At this point you're so wet it's embarrassing. It was probably due to the lack of sex you've had recently, or perhaps you were really growing fond of this new phase of his and the idea of Javier being possessive over you.

"Don't you dare look away." He warns roughly, peeling the fabric off you with a tad of your help. "Keep your eyes on me. I'll only tell you this once."

You nod eagerly. "Javi, are we- are we going to do it here?" It wouldn't be a new thing, you've done similar stuff in the past, though never in such an open space, despite appearing deserted. "Your place is barely a few blocks away..." His lips graze the soft skin of your upper leg, the feeling of his mustache raising goosebumps on your body.

"Can't wait." He stated, voice tinted with lust whilst his palm caresses your calf. "Need you now."

Somehow that made the pit of your stomach feel warmer. The rush of excitement coming from that desire he had for you had gave a thrill of control, completely ignoring how he was the one in charge of this situation. Javier carefully slips your dress upwards, taking in every single reaction you had to his touch and cursing at the sight of your throbbing pussy. The heat of his breath against your exposed core only increased your arousal, seemingly encouraging him.

"Shit, this cunt really did miss me, huh?" You nod again, basking in the contact of his nose brushing your clit, sending shivers down your spine.

In spite of your low whimpers of need, he deliberately denied you of his touch were you most needed him, simply roaming his lips and fingers over your inner thighs and pubic bone. Desperate, you scratch his scalp softly, pulling a groan from him.

"Javi, please..." he was definitely going to make you beg for it, regardless of how much he wanted it too.

"Did you let anyone else do this to you?"

"No." You breathe out.

"Good." His thumb suddenly falls on your clit, rubbing slow circles. You squeal from the spontaneousness of the action, squeezing your eyes shut for a second. "This is mine." Then he slides down his finger to slightly part your swollen lips, coating it with your slick. "All mine."

"Sí, Javi."

"That's right, corazón." He murmurs, slipping two digits into you. "I'm going to fuck you so good that you won't ever think about anyone else." He sets a pace pretty quickly, pumping his fingers in and out, curling them to hit all the right spots. "I'm the only man for you. Understand that?"

"Yes, shit-" you choke down a moan when he mildly pinches your nub. "You are."

He makes a satisfied noise before diving in your pussy, starting to lick and kiss your clit without pulling out his fingers, maintaining a relentless pace and rejoicing himself in the sounds he'd pull from you.

"Fuck, that's good..." you manage to say, knowing how he likes the praise, your hand messing up his hair.

Javier pulls away for a second, grabbing your thighs to part them further and place your legs over his shoulders eagerly, hungrily looking up at you. You arch your back, ever so responsive to him while struggling to maintain a hold of yourself.

"So pretty." He whispers, admiring how your chest goes up and down from your rag breathing, your face contorted by pleasure as his fingers disappear in your cunt, the squelching sounds of your pussy and the moans spilling from your lips making him painfully hard. "Toda mía."

Your legs were already shaking, your body being so sensitive and needy. Specially for him. Always for him. But it wasn't enough and you both knew that. Though before you can beg him for more, his mouth takes place were his digits used to be, eating you out as if you were his favorite meal, lapping you up kind of selfishly, almost like he did it for his own pleasure.

"Javi, that's-" you can't even form coherent sentences without being interrupted by your cries of pleasure. "Too fucking good."

His tongue is hot and soft between your folds, licking up your slit as he rubs tight circles on your clit, fucking you greedily and moaning graciously against your slickness. Also, the image of him between your legs was always a sight to see, adding to the pool of arousal. You start seeing white spots and the knot in your lower stomach starts to loosen as the orgasm approaches, gripping the leather seat as if your life depended on it. It's a good thing that he's holding you, cause in a matter of seconds your whole body starts to tremble and his name leaves your lips repeatedly.

"I can't- shit!" You pull his hair involuntarily and he groans in response, the sound vibrating through your core and pushing you to the edge. "I'm gonna..."

You can't even finish speaking before you're coming undone in his mouth, feeling the hot waves of satisfaction wash over you. He doesn't pull away until you're practically whining from the overstimulation, trying to regain composure as he licks you clean. When he does, his eyes peer at you, intoxicated with desire as he starts to stand on his feet, towering over you.

"I missed that sweet taste of yours." He licks his glistening lips and you wish he'd finally kiss you. "Can't get enough of it."

Your hands reach his belt, trying to unbuckle it, but he takes your wrists to stop you.

"What's wrong?" You question, genuinely confused.

"I'm taking you to my apartment. I'm doing this properly." He retorts. However, you're too turned on now to care about the place.

"Please Javi, let me do something for you." One thing that made him go stupidly insane for you was the way you were never coy when asking for his cock, looking up at him with pleading eyes. As if having him on your throat gratified you. "I need you."

He almost caved in. Almost.

"Stop that or I'll cuff you again." He grumbles, only making you smile.

"Do it. I don't need hands, I can always take you in my mou-" Javier flips your body abruptly, pressing your face against the seat, and you can hear the familiar sound of metal clipping in.

"Such a greedy slut." He fixes your dress, not without subtly smacking your ass beforehand.

"Mm, can I at least get my panties back?" You ask in defeat, turning to face him, but he was already shutting the door.

"No." He quickly starts the car as you settle on the back, catching a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your cheeks were flushed and lips plump from biting them, eyes still sparkling from the high post-orgasm.

"Do you like me like this?" You wonder as he begins driving. "All fucked out, cuffed and ready for you to take?"

Peña doesn't answer immediately, not daring to look back at you but desperately wanting to do it.

"I do." He answers, eyes on the road. "I like you naked. And dressed too, specially with those pretty skirts. I like it when you tell me how your day was, or when you're reading quietly." His words make your heart flutter, blushing harder. "I like listening to your voice, and the way your gaze always seems interested whenever I talk about me. Shit, I even like you when you're ignoring me." You can almost hear his smile, if that made any sense. "I like you all the damn time, hermosa."

Honestly, you weren't expecting such a straightforward answer, finding yourself at loss of words. Nonetheless, you didn't need to say anything, cause sooner than expected you were being taken out of the truck, flashes of the building he resided in passed right in front of your eyes while he dragged you through the dark, silent halls.

"Javi..." despite having limited mobility, you lean towards him, whispering in his ear. "Please kiss me."

He laughs dryly at your plea and struggles to open the door. "You want that, huh? ¿Quieres que te bese?" Then he takes your arm to drag you in, closing the door behind him.

"Yes, mi amor. I missed you so fucking much." You stay close to him, your face nuzzled on the crook of his neck. His hand brushes the hair out of your face and he presses his lips to your temple.

"Hm, is that right?" He hums and you can feel it against your nose. "Didn't seem so."

You back off swiftly, keeping your eyes locked with his. "I'm sorry, Javier. I really am."

Something shifts in his gaze, a possessive, deep emotion takes over him and he decides to take you up on your previous proposition.

"Prove it." He commands, voice hoarse. "Show me how much you missed me." The idea of getting what you wanted pursed your lips in a mischievous smirk. "I'll kiss you afterwards if I'm convinced."

Instead of responding, you start peppering kisses all over his jaw and neck, going as far along his chest as the buttons of his shirt would allow you. He lazily unbuckles his belt and pants while you lower yourself to your knees in front of him, but doesn't bother to go any further. It was going to be difficult, though nothing you haven't done before, nearly forgetting the cuffs as you craved his taste.

You rub the side of your face on his stiff erection, feeling how hard and hot he was under the tight fabric of his jeans and a low groan scratches his throat. You mouth at it before taking the zip between your teeth and sliding it down, eyes peering up at him at the same time. Javier observes every move attentively, his cock twitching at the sight of your lust-drunken gaze, breath starting to become unsteady when you kiss and lick the head of his dick over the thin fabric of his boxers. You taste the precum throughout it, salty and good, before pulling down his underwear by lightly biting the elastic.

Your mouth waters at the view, jaw going slack even before taking him in your mouth. His girth slaps against his clothed belly, tip red and leaking, just as big as you remember. Shit, you really had missed him. Javier's hand tangles in your hair, running his fingers in between the locks lovingly. He gasps when you press your lips to the slit, kitten licking the top and starting to spread wet kisses all over his length, running your tongue along the shaft, his musky scent getting to your head quite fast. He loved how every time you were on your knees for him it felt like you adored him, as much as Javier did you.

And it was true. Knowing how good you made him feel satisfied your senses, every expression and single noise he'd make could turn you on and push you to edge so easily. The man was simply delightful.

“Fuck, sweetheart…” he sighs, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb when you finally suck him in. “That’s it, wrap those gorgeous lips around my cock. So pretty…”

He lets out a gruffly moan as you take him further, watching as he screws his eyes shut and throws his head back, the sound so divine that it immediately makes your pussy clench around nothing. Javier is thick. And it’s always so hard to get him all in your mouth, but this time you make a double effort. You run your tongue against the veins on the underside of his dick, enjoying the weight of it in you, the taste and the admirable sight of him coming undone while he tries his best not to start fucking your face without warning, laying his palms flat on the wall behind you.

“Shit- that’s…” he grumbles, head spinning from pleasure, unable to make up any thought or manifest anything into words. You start bobbing your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to provide more warmth.

You’re dripping, feeling the slick run down your thighs and the ache becoming unbearable. You squeeze your legs together in order to release some of that need, letting out a whine that vibrates through him and makes his hips jolt into your mouth.

“Fucking hell…” Javier’s hand snakes to the back of your neck, massaging the soft skin. “Does it turn you on to get me off like this, hermosa?”

You hum in response and the feeling sends him to oblivion, letting out a coarse moan that shocks another wave of hotness between your legs.

“What a nasty girl you are.” He mumbles breathily, “My girl.” He’s practically shaking at this point, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed against his pubic bone.

Air wasn’t a necessity at the moment, your ears ringing and the corners of your eyes watering. He warned you he was close but you didn’t back out, letting him hold you for support. He gasps out a raspy ‘fuck’ when he releases, hips stuttering and back arching slightly as his cum hits your tongue. You pull apart just enough to lap at the tip while he rides it out, feeling him throb in your mouth while you savor him until he’s completely spent, soft moans barely audible.

You wait until he opens his eyes again, brown gaze meeting yours between shaky breaths. “Will you uncuff me now, agent?”

He huffs a laugh, tugging himself back in his jeans before helping you get up and taking the metal cuffs off. For a second, none of you say a thing, simply staring back at each other with a swirl of emotions between you. But then he says your name, merely a whisper that makes you crumble.

“Don’t do that, Peña.” You scold, turning your back to him and walking towards the couch, taking a seat and listening to the leather crack under your weight.

“What do you mean?” He turns to you, hands on his hips, pants unbuttoned and hair messy.

“When you say my name like you need me and give me those puppy-dog eyes, I actually believe that you want me for anything other than sex.” He seems disappointed, mostly on himself. “So can we just fuck and get this over with?”

“Is that what you think I…?” Javier shakes his head and follows your direction, but only observes from above. “It’s not like that.”

You take off the heels, your feet starting to hurt. “Then how is it?”

His hand goes to your chin, urging you to look up at him. “I’m not good with this… I screwed up back in Texas and I did it again with you.” You gulp, your hands tightly gripping your knees. “I don’t know how to handle this sort of things, and it’s been a while since I felt like this for anyone…”

He takes the jacket off and sits on the edge of his coffee table in front of the sofa, cupping your face in his hands.

“All I know is that every time we’re together, nothing else matters. Things feel right. But when you’re not with me… Shit. Life becomes insufrible. I can’t sleep, can’t think, fuck, I can’t even have sex!” He looks genuinely irritated. “Everything’s about you when you’re away. And I can’t tolerate to see you with anyone else. It’s like someone just took a shot at me.”

You inhale sharply, taking his hand in yours without breaking eye contact. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve came back to you.”

“Precisely. I tried not to be selfish and let you go, but I can’t. It hurts too much.” He pouts, as if the mere thought made him sick. “And you deserve better.”

Inevitably, you roll your eyes. “Don’t bullshit me, Peña.” He furrows his brows at your reply, his palm falling from your cheek to his lap. “That’s crap! You think you know what’s best for me?”

“Well shit, I’m sorry for trying to look out for you.” Javier snarls back.

“I don’t need you to do that, you idiot.” You grab his jaw, taking him by surprise. “I know what I want and I was straightforward about it,” His heart starts thumping against his ribs. “So, if you want me, take me. Cause if you don’t… Someone else might.”

Your statement stirs his pot and his expression shifts. “Fuck no. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s how this is going to work.”

“Yeah?” He lets out a throaty growl and leans down towards you.

“Yeah.” His mustache tickles your upper lip when he crashes his lips to yours and you whine into his mouth.

It was desperate and demanding, ripping all the emotions from you. Javier tasted like cigarettes, a hint of mint and of you. And you tasted like tequila, honey and of him. His cologne was a little faded, but you could still smell it.

“Say you’re mine, corazón.” He mumbles when he pulls back for air, forehead pressed to yours. “I don’t care if you’re lying, I need to hear it.”

You take him by the collar of his shirt so that he’s sitting down next to you, snaking your hand to press the palm against his bare chest.

“Soy tuya, Javi.” You tell him, laying a small kiss to his lips. “I mean it.”

He smiles cheekily as he pulls you on top of him, spreading your knees to each side of his thighs, your dress slipping upwards. Javier tugs a strand of hair behind your ear and his fingers roam your face as if he wanted to memorize every edge of it by tact alone. His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip carefully, parting your lips briefly before going to kiss you again. This time he does it slowly, taking his time with your lips prior to sliding his tongue past your teeth and relishing on your taste, almost like he wanted to lose himself in you.

To him, the world meant nothing if you weren’t by his side. And now that you were here, he intended to make the most of it.

His hands are everywhere: your waist, hips, lower back and butt, grabbing every bit of your flesh that he could, keeping you close. So close that it almost seemed like he wished to merge into you. You made out for what it appeared to be hours, until the kisses got sloppier but never less passionate, and you started grinding against him. You hold his shoulders for support, creating that delicious friction between your naked cunt and his stiff boner tucked in his pants. He jolts his hips up, making you release a whimper in his mouth.

He backed off, his lips now scrape your jawline, neck and collarbones. You arch your back when his hand slithers to pull down the zipper of your dress, granting him a better view of your tits close to his face.

“My room?” He asks, biting your earlobe mildly.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Javi carries you to the bedroom with your legs wrapped around his waist, still finding a way to keep his lips on you in the meantime. Clothes disappear in the blink of an eye and you sit at the end of the sheets to help him take off his pants, kissing his abdomen, your dress now discarded somewhere on the floor.

“Eres preciosa.” The way he says it makes you blush, skin burning under his chocolate gaze. “I’m all yours, mi amor.”

You bring his face close to yours, infatuated with his beauty. “All mine…”

“Yes, corazón.”

You lay down on the mattress, Javier starting to play with your hard nipples, nibbling at them, sucking and kissing with his attention focused on all your reactions. You’re so aroused that you’re quite literally dripping into his sheets, legs trembling from every light stimulation and skin scorching from desire, already spurred on by the make out and giving him head.

“Please, Javi… I- need you inside.”

He wastes no time to compel, maneuvering a hand to your lower back and aligning himself to your entrance, keeping your legs spread. You feel him inside, splitting you open with no previous warning and the tight grip of your cunt feels like homecoming to him. You hold your breath until he bottoms out, enjoying the sweet stretch he provided. Then your whole body quivers, a sheen layer of sweat covering both his golden skin and yours, a couple of curly locks sticking to his temples from it.

You watch him from below through hooded eyes, every inch of him inside you making you feel so full and complete, the outline of his fingers dig in your waist to keep you angled. You bear down on his cock, enveloping him in the warm, welcoming grasp of your body. He holds your hand above your head and leans down to kiss you again, drowning his own moans in your mouth as he draws out slowly to set a pace with his hips, the wet sounds of you pussy and skin clapping against skin sending a thrill of excitement down his spine.

You get it then, as he pours out all sentiment into you, overcome by passion. He is yours. Even though he just said it, only now does it become evident to you. This is Javier’s way of proving it.

He grabs one of your thighs and lifts your knee to the crook of his elbow, the new angle spreading you further open and allowing him to hit deeper. The impact of his tip hitting every right spot relentlessly forces you to break apart from his lips, your head thrown back into his pillows while practically screaming for more, his face nuzzled in your chest as he melts into you.

“Shit baby, I won’t last.” He warns, sinking his teeth to leave a mark between your breasts. You can feel it too, hot shots of ecstasy creeping up the pit of your stomach every time his cock jumps inside you.

You tug at his hair, a strangled moan escaping his lips. “Do it in me- Please, fill me up.”

Your request sends him right to the edge, his thrusts becoming careless as he starts grinding into you, Javi’s fingers quickly finding your swollen clit. The sole touch made you writhe and reach your high in absolute bliss, clenching your walls around him and crying out from raw pleasure. He fucks you through it, overwhelmed by the sensation. You feel dizzy, barely conscious when he finds his own release, your name spilling from his lips like it was the only word he knew, coming in warm spurts inside you. His spend is dripping from your pussy and thighs when he pulls out and sits up to admire the absolute mess he just made of you.

“Well…” he says, guiding his finger to push his seed back into you, making you whine from the overstimulation. “Hope that made it clear.”

You smile, every muscle in your body weeping from exhaustion. “Yeah… I’ll have to make you jealous more often.”

He groans in annoyance and you pull him back on top of you, spreading tender kisses all over his face, laughing in the meantime.

“Not funny.” He grumbles, despite the grin forming on his lips. Javier rolls to your side, coming to lay down next to you and immediately holding you against his sturdy chest, wrapping his arms around your waist to spoon you. “Stay with me.”

His plead is barely a murmur that filters through your ears and you’re too tired to figure out what those words actually mean. You simply let your eyelids drop and retort with a hardly audible ‘always’.

#javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena x you #javier pena one shot #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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l0ngschl0ngking · 1 year

Text

Work for it

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: Javier wants you. Plain and simple. You don’t fall for his charm so easily

warnings: as always SMUT (m!masturbation, semi-public handjob, vaginal fingering, oral - f!receiving, protected p in v, biting, spitting, hair pulling, praise kink), cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of food, fluff and soft!Javi - because I can’t help myself

word count: 17k (holy moly guacamole - I am so fucking sorry)

A/N: This took me literally five days to finish (longer than I anticipated). Writing and then editing, re-reading it over and over again. But I had so much fun writing these two together. I love them.

You will never forget the day you met the infamous Javier Peña.

It was the first day at your new job - a new beginning for you, let’s say. Moving to a new country whose language you hardly spoke, having to accommodate to the new pace of things. That didn’t mean it was a bad thing though - you needed the change. After living in a small town for nearly all of your life where everyone knew everything about you, you were pretty glad when they accepted you as a secretary for DEA office in Colombia. It was…different. The people, the lifestyle they led. Nonetheless, change was good for you - you needed it.

What you didn’t need - or at least you thought so at the beginning - was having a smooth talker, devilish charmer and so-called "ladies' man" ogle you right as you entered the DEA building. His eyes watched every measured step you took as you held your head high when passing by him - not giving him the time of a day. You could see from the corner of your eye that he licked his lips and smoothed his thumb along the bottom one, his eyes trailing your figure.

He watched your smooth legs move effortlessly - light as if you were a butterfly slowly floating in the air, even in your heels. He could definitely make your legs wobble if you would let him, he thought as he licked his lips. Your green work skirt fitted you like a damn glove, your white blouse flowy - made to look professional yet efficient for you to not cook alive in that god-forsaken Colombian heat - highlighting your sun-kissed skin. He felt like a dog that was shown a proper peace of meat after days of starving. Oh, and starved he was.

He almost broke his neck when you disappeared around the corner and Steve threw him an unimpressed look from behind the folder he was going through before he heard Javier roughly exhale. The blond-haired agent tossed the thick folder filled with documents on the desk and leaned back on the uncomfortable office chair as he watched his partner seemingly lost in thought - he could guess what thoughts were occupying his mind right then. He scoffed and that seemed to pull Javier out of his trance, his dark eyes narrowed as he looked at his partner.

“What?” he grumbled. Javier’s eyes were challenging as he bored them into Steve’s baby blues as if saying “just say what you want to say.”

One thing Javier hated about Steve - and there were a lot of things that he didn’t like about him but if he was to pinpoint one it would have to be this - was how he unseemingly loved to call out Javier on his so-called “bullshit”. Even though often it was his private life - which frankly was none of his business. He loved to criticize and not be criticized in return - that he and Peña had in common even if he neither one of them would ever admit that.

“Don’t even think about it, Peña.” Steve muttered as he held eye contact with Javier - neither of them ready to back down.

Seconds passed. Maybe a minute even.

Javier was the first one to break it off as he glanced behind his shoulder, a sly grin spreading across his lips. He liked to play dirty - and pissing off his partner seemed plenty dirty play enough for him. And if you’d give in - as he was sure you would - and Steve would hear the pretty little cries of Javier’s name falling out of your lips? That seemed like a sweet victory to the dark-haired agent.

One thing about Javier was that when someone tells him can’t or shoudln’t do something - you know he will do exactly that. He turned to Steve once more.

“I don’t know what are you talking about.” Steve squinted his eyes and sighed - knowing damn well Javier was already planning on how to charm you in his mind.

“You know what I am talking about, Javier.”

His grin spread wider - his fingers quickly drumming on the wooden desk he was leaning his hands against. It was an old thing - folders that Javier should get through by tonight sitting on top of it. He had better things to do now. Paperwork could wait. Your perfume lingered in the office when you passed by, calling him to you like a damn siren song.

“Just trying to be friendly here, Murphy. Not that you know anything about it.”

“We both know that your definition of ‘friendly’ when it comes to women means ‘I want to spread-“

Before he could finish his sentence Javier was already one long leg out of the office making his way toward where you were seated at your desk. You were concentrated - your brows furrowed and the rim of your reading glasses falling from the bridge of your nose. You were not from here - Javier could tell. He noticed the mug filled with coffee on your desk that had “best sister ever” written on it in a thick cursive, the letters red and next to it a big heart.

The temperature in the office was hot - too hot even for Javi that was used to the Texan heat back from Laredo. His blue shirt damp from the sweat that dribbled down his back, his torso, his neck. The material of the shirt stuck to him. That wouldn’t be the last thing that would stick to him today. He was sure of that.

It seemed you came prepared though - the small fan on your desk felt like heaven on earth against your sweaty skin. He watched one droplet roll down from the side of your temple, slowly down to your jaw, your neck, falling into the juncture of it and rolling down between the valley of your breasts. He would gladly lick it from your skin if you’d let him. He would do much more than that to you if you’d let him.

“Can I help you with something?” His eyes teared away from your cleavage and met your gaze - your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you put your reading glasses down, the papers you were reading before he came laid now on your desk. He quickly scanned your features and yeah, you were definitely someone who’d he like to spend his night with. Or lunch break, or-

He ignored your question as he looked at your nails - one of his hands coming to inspect it closer but before he could you pulled your hands away - folding them across your chest. “I like the color. Brings out the color of your eyes.”

You quirked an eyebrow at that - leaning against the leather chair you looked him up and down quickly before leaning back towards him. Your elbows were prepped on the wooden desk and he leaned closer as well -his eyes quickly dipping to your cleavage once again.

“Listen here-“ A pause followed.

“Javi.” He offered.

“Javi.” You repeated. His name falling out of your mouth - the accent not quite right but he did not mind one bit. He found it endearing in a way. “Listen here, Javi. I don’t know what you think is going to happen but whatever it is just forget about it. Your southern charm won’t work on me. Been there, done that.”

He pulled away - taken back by your quick rejection, his eyebrows furrowing just a little. The crease on his brows showing and he took a quick breath to retort something, his tongue slipping out to lick his lower lip.

“And what did you think I thought was going to happen, mariposa?” The old leather chair creaked beneath your weight as you moved back in it slightly. An amused smirk pulled at your lips as you ignored the nickname he gave you - which in all honesty you didn’t know what it meant. You’d ask him another time. It seemed that you would be seeing this “Javi” a whole lot more than you thought.

You leaned closer to him and he did the same - as if the two of you were pulled by some magnetic force toward one another. It got hotter once his nose almost touched yours, his fingers with neatly trimmed nails gripping the edge of your desk. You slowly raised from your seat. You ignored it all - the way his eyes bored into yours, how you felt as if molten lava was in the pit of your stomach, how your hands clenched at your sides.

He smelled like cigarettes and coffee, and some kind of expensive cologne. The smell of him made your nose and insides burn - something about his presence made you feel like every cell in your body was on fire. That’s how the DEA agent made women feel most of the time - you didn’t know that back then.

Your voice dropped an octave lower as you whispered. “I don’t think it would be appropriate to say what I think you thought in a public setting. Especially in a working place.” An amused chuckle fell out of his lips as you seated yourself. Mirth danced in his eyes as he replied:

“Good thing I am inappropriate most of the time, mariposa.” Javier Peña was a bold man. He knew that and most of the people that were acquainted with him knew that. But you didn’t know who he was and he expected that you would scoff - tell him to fuck off. But you didn’t.

You couldn’t help the smirk that made its way onto your lips as you pretended to read the documents on your desk - your conversation ending with that.

He watched you for a few seconds, expecting that maybe you would say something smart back in return because you know - it seemed you had a smart mouth. He turned on his heels as he left you to do what you actually came here to do - work - and he should do the same.

Oh, and you were going to be fun, he thought. When he came back and sat behind his desk, he had this stupid boyish smirk planted on his face. Steve looked at him and then back at where you were supposed to be working - even though he couldn’t see you. And the blonde-haired agent thought that this meant no good.

Three years passed since your first encounter with Javier.

Three torturous years filled with you two dancing around each other - like two ships passing one another in the stillness of a night. You two became somewhat friends. Three years filled with flirting and bickering, stolen glances and going out on drinks.

Sometimes Steve joined the two of you - most of the time not. At first, he seemed to be glued to Javier’s hip - afraid that his partner would try another one of his many tricks on you. Oh, and he did.

His flirtatious nature came out on the surface anytime you were near him - though you did not crumble under his advances as Javier wished you would. Your knees didn’t buckle, your cheeks didn’t turn a darker shade of red, your eyes didn’t flutter when he was closer to you than it seemed proper. But after a while, both agents found out you weren’t even near to falling for the smooth talker that Javier was. The only thing you offered him was friendship - your presence and your laugh, your silly jokes and weird habits.

And he took it all - his flirtatious nature and comments remained but it seemed more friendly than not. And you did the same in return - your smart-ass comments about how his ass looked “good enough to bite in those tight jeans" kept him on his toes, his cheeks hurt with all of the genuine laughter you pulled out of somewhere deep in his chest.

So Steve started joining your outings outside of work less and less - you were an intelligent woman and he liked you. You wouldn’t do something stupid like sleep with Javier.

The thing was - you wanted to. After the stressful day at work, you wished you could have Javier here - in your crappy apartment that was assigned to you by the U.S. embassy. You knew his reputation, you knew that his needs were simply carnal - a basic transaction of pleasure and bodily fluids. He never wanted his lady friends to stay over - never wanted them to have any expectations of having something more with him.

You can still remember the vivid shock you felt when you banged on the door of your next-door neighbor who appeared to only come alive at night.

The walls were thin and you could hear every moan, groan, slap of skin against skin, every bang that the bedframe made when hitting the wall. At first, you tried to ignore it - you bought earplugs. Multiple pairs. None of them seemed to work and one night you had had enough when you were right there on the edge of sleep after a particularly rough day and then - a long drawn-out moan made you squeeze your eyes before you shot out of the bed. The robe you wrapped around yourself to look at least half decent flew dramatically behind you.

You didn’t knock at the door - you banged - irritated and tired but still, you chewed at your lip as you thought of how the fuck will you say in spanish that they should finally “shut the fuck up and let you sleep”. You could hear a loud bang and then curses thrown into the air before the door swung open and Javier was standing in them - Javier from the office, Javier that undressed you with his eyes every time you entered the same room as him - his eyes wild and angry before they landed on you. All of the fire in his eyes disappeared and a toothy grin replaced his scowl. He leaned one arm on the doorframe - his bicep flexing with the movement.

His hair was disheveled and he didn’t have any of his significant half-unbuttoned shirts on. His chest was broad, covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his golden skin glowed in the low dim light in the hallway. The tight jeans he wore stuck to him like a second skin - he didn’t zip them in the hurry to get to the door. You could see the sparse hair leading from his belly button growing thicker the lower and lower you went - you must have gaped at him like a fish before you gulped.

He wasn’t any better though - his eyes dragged over the naked expanse of your skin and as his eyes trailed higher. He was sure you weren’t wearing anything underneath that flimsy robe. A peak of the soft flesh of your breast caught his attention as he absent-mindedly licked his lips, catching his tongue between his teeth - only a sliver of the pink flesh poking out of his mouth.

“Came to take me up on my offer, mariposa?” You wanted to wipe the self-assured cocky smile off his face.

He never really said the “offer” out loud but you knew what he had in mind. Now even more so. After a few weeks at the embassy, you heard rumors about Peña, about his reputation, about who he was. You tried to pay them no mind.

“No, Javier.” The way his name sounded falling out of your mouth was his absolute favorite thing. “Just keep it down, would you?”

You didn’t wait for his answer - turning on your heel and he watched your ass sway before you closed the door of your apartment.

He fucked the girl that was in his place harder than he ever fucked anyone in his life that night.

So that you knew what you were missing.

The way you glared at him the next day was definitely worth it.

But you also knew Javier - how he cared for those who were close to him, how the only thing he “ate” all day was coffee and so you had to almost shove any form of food into him - not that he minded - how his eyes crinkled when you cracked one of your stupid jokes that weren’t even that funny - he seemed to think otherwise.

So you were somewhat friends. You went out to drink away your thoughts, sorrows and feelings together. An unhealthy coping mechanism that you seemed to learn from Javi after the first year and a half you spent in Colombia.

You always went into that one filthy bar - quiet but with a sticky floor with not a lot of people around - somehow, Javier always found a girl that he would take home that night in it still. He was tall, broad, charming, he knew the way around with ladies - compliments forming and falling easily off his silver tongue. They seemed to be pulled towards him by his sheer presence in the room. He didn’t even have to try.

You hated the way your heart tightened in your chest whenever a pretty woman caught his attention - he always quickly stubbed his cigarette down with a quick apology that he’d be right back. His walk was confident and self-assured, his body language lose when he talked to them.

To make things worst he always had this soft look in his eyes when he asked if you were okay with him leaving. Oh, his brown eyes that always looked at you with such curiosity and interest. Those eyes made you feel like you were in another world. Looking into them - looking into those prettiest brown eyes, the eyes that you loved the most - made you feel like dying and feeling alive at once.

Even when some of them almost pulled his arm off as they tried to get him out and to wherever they would get more acquainted with one another, he still waited for your answer. Every time, you offered him the same tight-lipped smile and quick nod as you shooed him off. The imprint of his smile he always offered you in gratitude felt like a punch to the gut - as if he broke all of your ribs to get to your heart and squeezed until no blood remained in it after it stopped functioning completely.

But even if you wanted to give in - learn and feel his touch, find out if the girls were faking all of the moans and gasps or if he was really so skilled - you never dared to. Refusing to become another woman who would have to leave eventually and never look back. You wanted more than that. Because you knew Javier.

And you wanted all of him, not just a piece that he would offer and then rip it from you.

So you never acted upon the feelings you developed over the years - staying somewhat friends with the Texas man would have to be enough. Had to be.

Things changed after almost two and a half years. After he came late at night knocking on your apartment door and you sleepily opened it - the tiredness leaving your body as your eyes widened at his state. He was drunk - that was clear. He hiccuped and stumbled into your place when you opened your door wider.

There was no exchanging of words that night. He planted face-first onto your couch and fell asleep almost immediately - his soft snores filling the silent room. You draped your favorite light blanket around him that night - the one your sister gave you as a Christmas present. Javier always made fun of it. It was an ugly thing really - she said that it was compensation for an ugly sweater as she couldn’t find any. And yes, it was hideous - it looked like it just came from some dumpster - but you loved it nonetheless.

Something changed between the two of you the next morning. When you came into the living room he was still lounging on your small couch - his long legs dangling from the edge of it. You laughed as he groaned, his eyes tightly shut, one of his arms draped over his forehead. When he slowly sat up his head spun and he mumbled something about “never drinking again” - you laughed some more at that.

You didn’t ask why he drank so much - you knew it was because of something more serious than just simply wanting to get shit-faced. If he wanted to, he’d tell you. Eventually.

You passed him some painkillers for which he offered you a grateful smile - throwing his head back as he swallowed them. The only thing that could be heard in the room was the coffee machine as you stared at each other. He looked different in the morning - peaceful, soft. Things he didn’t want anyone to see.

You cleared your throat, saying that you will quickly hop in the shower while he can choose what are you two going to have for breakfast - the book you’ve written your favorite recipes in kept on the lowest shelf in the kitchen cabinet right above the stove. You were stocked with all sorts of ingredients as you like to cook a lot. He nodded as he watched you softly shut the door behind you.

The recipe book was old and rusty - the pages of it covered in smudges, the corners of them sometimes torn off. He wasn’t sure if it was yellow because it came in that color or if the was white before and it just yellowed over time. He flipped the pages quickly - honestly, he’d eat anything you’d cook as he often said you should have opened your own restaurant and not waste your time behind the desk. You always brushed these comments off with a small smile. A dried-up rose layed between the pages. He softly grabbed it and inspected it - his heart lurching into his throat when realization dawned on him. He gave you the rose. A long time ago.

Steve always bought Connie a bouquet of flowers every Friday -a habit he kept even after all the years spent with her. It was sweet, really. Romantic. You eyed the different flowers - a small flicker of yearning danced in your eyes. Javier noticed. Of course, he did. One day he came over to your desk, one of his hands behind his back and you threw him a curious look before he brought the single white-petalled rose in front of your face. The big grin you gave him and the quiet “thank you, Javi. I love it” made his entire week.

So he didnn’t know how long he had been standing there - the tip of his fingers delicately brushing over the dried-up white petals until you called his name, coming over to him.

“You kept it.” You threw him a confused look, your eyes widened when he backed you up against the kitchen counter - the small of your back hitting the edge of it. He caged you in, his hand coming to lay on the counter next to your side, the other one showing you the rose and you gulped.

“Yeah, I kept it.” You whisper and something in his chest shifted back then, his eyes softening. You held your breath when his chest brushed up against yours, his nose almost bumping with yours. You could see every freckle on his skin, his long eyelashes, the curve of his nose. Your lips nearly touching.

And then the phone rang and he closed his eyes in irritation, taking a deep steadying breath. He moved away from you and you slipped away from him quickly- your heart almost jumping out of your chest. You picked it up with shaking hands, looking over at Javier who put the rose back into its place.

“Hey, Steve. Yeah-yeah, I’ll be there in ten. Yeah, I will go over to Javi’s to kick him out of bed. See you.”

His jaw ticked when you hung up. He was going to kill Murphy.

He stopped seeing every and each of his lady friends after that day. If he wanted any information he’d meet them on neutral ground - sometimes offering to buy them a drink or two. But nothing more. He stopped picking up random girls at the bar too.

And somehow, he felt happy. Mind shockingly happy - like a kid that wished really hard for a present under the Christmas tree and got it. He cared for you - the realization hitting him in the back of the head like a fucking bullet. And you cared for him - took care of him, fed him and made him feel fucking alive and happy and thriving. You were the one that got drunk with him and never asked questions, and listened. You had to feel something if you kept the stupid rose after the years. Right?

But Javier overthinks things easily and just as easy as it was to imagine somehow a happy and safe future with you, it was just as easy to imagine scenarios - where in every one of them - he was the jackass who’d hurt you. And he couldn’t have that. No, no, no.

So he keeps his distance - still talks to you and keeps being friendly, but neither of you talks about the morning when you almost kissed. You were confused and hurt. He played with you but you couldn’t be angry at him. He never tried anything again after that on you. Even though this thing you two had between you kept simmering under the surface and he tried to ignore it. As have you.

But Javier is just a man - impulsive and quick to jump to conclusions. When he sees red? He acts. And right now he sees red as you talk to one of the other agents - he can hear your soft laugh and can see the way you grip the man’s arm as you laugh some more. What is even so funny? The muscle in his jaw ticks as he grips the edge of his desk tighter in his hold and Steve wants to laugh at his partner.

He takes pity on him and when he stands up he places one of his big hands on Javier’s shoulder which he wants to shrug away -his gaze lingering on you.

“You should ask her out, Peña.”

Javier almost breaks his neck with the speed he looks at Steve. Did he hit his head? Since when is he telling him what to do with women? Javier scoffs - an ugly twisted snarl adorns his lips. Like a wolf barring his teeth to its prey.

“Since when do you tell me what and what to not do when it comes to our lady co-workers?” Steve sighs and squeezes Javier’s shoulder tighter making his dark-haired partner look at him.

“We both know she isn’t just a co-worker to you, Peña.” He hisses at him, the grip on his shoulder loosening. “Now go ask her out before someone else will.”

And maybe it’s the first time in his life that Steve is actually right. He was fucking exhausted of playing this game of cat and mouse with you.

Javier’s legs act quick and his mind can’t seem to catch up with his actions before he is standing at your desk. When he arrives the other man bids you a quick goodbye before he scatters away under Javier’s intense gaze.

“Do you need something from me, Javi?” You offer him a small smile - so different from the first time you two met and he thinks: “yeah, you”.

His tongue sits heavy in his mouth and just now he finds out he actually doesn’t know how to do this. This dating thing. For fuck’s sake he hasn’t been on a date since Lorraine and he is getting old. Should he bring you flowers first? Should he ask you out with a note like in high school? Should he-

“Javi, you okay?”

Man up, Peña.

He scratches the back of his head before he blurts out:

“Go out with me.”

He says it so quickly that you are sure you heard him wrong but the tip of his ears are a darker shade of red and he stares at you expectantly. You gape at him like a fish - your mouth closing and opening but no sound comes out of it. He sighs and this time he says it slower, his dark eyes boring into yours as he reaches to grab your small hands in his.

“Mariposa, I’d like nothing more than if you’d go out with me. Like…on a date.” His palms are sweaty and he gulps seemingly nothing. He is nervous. It’s cute. That this big bad agent that chases narcos left and right is nervous about asking you out. You grin as you squeeze his fingers in yours.

“I don’t know, Javi. This seems so sudden and I am not sure if that’s the best idea. With us being colleagues and all.” You try to hide your grin as he looks at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Mariposa, I swear I will make it worth your while. Just give me a chance. Please? I will-“ You break when you see his pleading eyes.

“Javi, I was just kidding. I’d like to go out with you. You are a scaredy cat when it comes to these things, aren’t you?”

He offers you a sheepish smile, his eyes glowing.

“Kind of. So please, try to be patient with me, yeah?”

“Of course.” You throw him a reassuring smile. Yeah, he could do this. With you.

He looks around before he brings your hands towards his lips - kissing them and he grins against them when he sees how you blush.

“Tonight at eight sounds good?” He offers as he pulls away from you.

“Sound perfect, Texas.” His grin spreads wider, his cheeks hurt and his heart hammers in his chest.

He owes Steve.

For someone who dreamt about being asked out by Javier you are unprepared. You never expected that he would ever actually make a move on you - not counting the sexual ones. You can’t wipe the smile off your face for the rest of your shift. You beam at Javier when passing by him to get home and he throws you a sultry wink - his knuckles resting on his desk as he looks through the documents. Steve rolls his eyes but doesn’t quip anything as Javier watches you leave.

He had a date tonight. With you. Stating that he was nervous and giddy at the same time was an understatement. He felt a like a teenager expecting his first kiss. It felt strange and absolutely addicting at once.

When you arrive home you take a quick shower - Javier always said that you smelled like coconuts and one time you saw him secretly glancing into your bathroom to see what kind of shampoo were you using.

The water is scorching hot and it soothes your muscles and nerves. You scrub all the stress from your body and scurry into the bedroom when you are done - the droplets of water falling onto the floor as you don’t even bother to dry yourself off.

Your bedroom is a big space - the same as Javier’s and Steve’s and anyone who lives in the same apartment building as you, really. You open your closet which was built by Javi and Steve - both of them complaining “why the fuck would you need such a big closet if you live alone” and as you replied “because I like them big” Javier choked on seemingly nothing sending you a quick glare, his Adam’s apple bobbed and it seemed he started sweating even more after that.

You and Connie watched as they argued because, of course, neither of them needed the instructions. Glass of wine in your hands.

It was a pretty closet - cheap as someone bought it and it was too big to fit into their living space and they wanted to get rid of it. Made from mahogany wood, the doors of it had two birds on each side carved in it. Vintage and fitting into your bedroom - you even got a carpet with it for free, the one you were currently standing on.

As you pondered on what to wear you suddenly realized you didn’t know where was Javier taking you. Dancing? On a dinner? To a bar just for drinks? After a while of just checking through your wardrobe you decided to wear a sundress - it was too hot, even at night, to wear anything else, to be honest. It was a light green color - patterned with white flowers and the seam of it reached just below your knees. Backless with long sleeves. Cheeky but modest. Your mouth quirked upwards as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

A knock echoes through the apartment and you look at the watch in the kitchen when coming to answer the door -precisely seven. When you open the door your breath hitches.

Javier stands there with a bouquet of white roses - his face hidden behind them. He has his leather jacket on, his signature tight jeans on but you’ve never seen the pink shirt on him before. It suits him. He peaks at you through the flowers and his jaw sets - his eyes raking up and down your form, multiple times before he passes the roses to you.

“Thank you, they are beautiful, Javi.” You get an instant response, his hands now in his pockets.

“You are beautiful, mariposa.” His baritone raspy. He was used to you were pencil skirts, blouses, jeans and shirts when you went out. Never has he seen a dress on you even after three years. He prayed to all saints out there that you would wear only dresses from now on.

You flash him a grin before you quickly disappear inside to throw them into a vase. He has to clear his throat when he realizes that he can see the whole expanse of your back - the swell of your ass disappearing under the fabric but if the cut would be a little deeper he could definitely see that as well.

“Wear some comfortable shoes. I am gonna show you the beauty of Bogotá tonight.”

You link your arm with his as you softly shut the door.

You talk and laugh and jab at one another. The cool night air makes you shiver - you thought it would be a lot warmer than this. Javier drapes his jacket over you even as you fuss that he doesn’t have to.

You walk - it could be miles - but you don’t really pay it no mind as times fly by. You pass the few spots Javier wanted to show you - a pretty lake that reflected the moon shone under its light, looking like a silver liquid- a few daisies growing near it and you picked them, and after a while Javier even allowed you to put one behind his ear after you pleaded him. The spot where they served the best arepas in the city - Javier said so - and you had to agree as both of you munched on them, comfortable silence falling over the two of you.

It wasn’t awkward as you thought it might have been - you know a lot about each other but somehow you still find new things to talk about. You learned that he liked to paint when he was younger and enjoyed horseback riding with his pops. That he was mama’s boy - his tone softening as he talked about her. You squeezed his hand, telling him it was okay if he didn’t want to talk about it. But he did. Somehow, he wanted you to know everything about him. You took everything he gave and never wanted more and he felt at peace when with you. You found out that he grew up on a ranch and that he was a dog lover - he had a border collie that followed him everywhere when he did his morning chores - feeding the chickens and such.

The final spot of the day’s date was a pretty place with a view from which you could see the whole Bogotá, surrounded by trees and his truck parked there

Both of you lean against the hood - you pull his jacket around you tighter. It smells like him and you realize that after the years you don’t mind the smell of cigarettes. It’s soft and warm and it feels entirely like him.

“So, will you ever tell me about your little Texas boyfriend?” He cuts off the silence with his question and you cock your head to the side.

“Since when do you know I had Texas boyfriend?” He shrugs his shoulders as he brings the cigarette to his lips - blowing the smoke away from you.

“You told me the first time we’ve seen each other. You said that you will not fall for my Texas charm - “been there done that”. He quotes and you laugh breathily. He stubs the cigarette under his foot. The gravel under him crunches.

“You remember that?”

“I remember every little thing you say to me, mariposa.”

The air thickens with his confession as you look into his eyes. He is gorgeous under the dim moonlight. His hair blows in the soft wind. You reach to take the daisy from behind his ear and twist it between your fingers. The contact your skin makes with his when you reach behind his ear results in goosebumps erupting all over his body.

“I think a talk about ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends is more suited for a second date. Don’t you think?” He quirks an eyebrow at you.

“You want to go on a second date with me?” It surprises him - really. He expected…he actually doesn’t know what he expected but second date wasn’t it. He ignores the way his heart skips a beat.

“Yeah, don’t you?” Your eyes are hopeful and he doesn’t understand how you could think he wouldn’t want to go on another date with you.

He was smitten with you from the first time he laid his eyes on you. With your sharp tongue and wicked sense of humor, and how you love to call him out on his bullshit, how your nose wrinkles when you laugh and you throw your whole body forward - always needing to bang your hand against something, whether it was your thigh, table, his shoulder.

“I’d love to.” You grin and he mirrors it before you lean away from the hood as does he. It’s late and you are tired - even though you do not want this night to end. You yawn and Javier claps his hands together as he opens the door of the car you.

The car ride passes in comfortable silence as you keep sneaking glances when you think he isn’t looking.

You look at his sharp jawline and aquiline nose, his hand that grips the steering wheel - watching how he drums his long thick fingers against it and you lick your lips as you trail your eyes over the veins on the back of his hand. You take a sharp intake of breath as he places the other hand on your thigh after a while. You look at him but he doesn’t even glance at you, you can see how he becomes tense and when you don’t push his hand away he relaxes again, his thumb stroking idle circles on top of your covered flesh.

It passes quickly and before you know it you are outside the door of your apartment and he is pulling you closer by the small of your back. You put a finger on his lips when it looks like he is ready to kiss you senseless and you giggle, grabbing him by the chin and you turn his head to the side.

“I don’t kiss and tell on the first date, Peña. You will have to work for it.” You whisper against the skin of his cheek and his grip on you loosens as he feels the ghost of your lips against his flesh before you kiss him under the hinge of his jaw. The kiss imprints into the core of his bones.

Before he can say or act you are already closing the door of your apartment - he can hear the giggles that leave your mouth behind them. The muscle in his jaw ticks, his hands ball into fists as he stares at your door.

Seconds pass. Minutes. Maybe hours. He isn’t sure as he seems to be glued to the spot outside of your door.

When he finally moves he closes the door behind him forcefully. He feels so fucking worked up. And you didn’t even touch him. What were you doing to him? For fuck’s sake.

He stumbles into his place as he tries to tear his jeans from him. He fumbles with the zipper and button of his jeans and falls onto the couch as he quickly tries to undress. The jeans are thrown somewhere behind him and he tugs at his cock a few times, hissing as he swipes his thumb across the sensitive head - a spurt of precum falling out of it. He tries to imagine your small hand around his cock. Your slender fingers gripping him and pumping him from all he has. He groans when he squeezes the base of him and he thinks of how you looked tonight.

All pretty and soft when he held your hand in his. His brows furrow when he thinks of how your skin heated up under his touch when he placed his hand on the small of your back. How your dress showed all of your curves and how you laughed - your nose wrinkling. His movements speed up, he concentrates on how you smelled and moved. He thinks how you wouldn’t be able to grip all of him in your small hand - would you try to put all of him in your mouth or would you just suck and lick the tip of him while you would pump the rest of him? The roughness of his own hand isn’t ideal and it is hard to imagine your softer one - his eyebrows furrowing even more so as he concentrates, the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth.

And fuck, you care for him. You truly care for him. You listen - really listen- and let him talk your ear off. You never judge him. And that’s why he is so fucking attracted to you. Because Javier just wants someone who will care for him and provide him with not only physical but also psychical comfort. And you are that someone.

He groans, his head thrown back as the pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach - twirling up the column of his spine. He is not quiet and his eyes roll into the back of his head when he hears the squelching sound of his hand stroking his cock - pretending that it was your pussy making the noise while riding him. He smears the precum around his cock - the glide over the hard hot flesh easier. He thinks about how would you sound screaming his name and a needs curls in his belly - primal and hungry. He finds a steadier and firmer pace and the muscle on his forearm and bicep flex with each stroke.

He is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and he feels he is so fucking close - so close - his eyes tightly shut. The pleasure builds and builds - liquid warm and full of aching desire for you growing with each slick movement of his wrist. Long smooth strokes are deliberately made, his thumb running over the head, his grasp tightening on the base of his aching cock. His muscular thighs lift off the sofa, the muscles underneath his softer belly pull tighter with each second as he fucks up into his fist. His feet are firmly planted on the couch and he pretends you are there with him - on top of him, riding him as he pinches and explores, gropes and holds every inch of your body.

His balls pull tight and his cock twitches in his hand a few times before he is cumming with a string of spanish curses and your name falling out of his mouth. He keeps up the pace until he is too sensitive and he lets go of his slowly softening cock - his hand sticky with his own release as is his shirt. The back of his head collides with the soft cushions and he opens his eyes to look at the ceiling. Bringing his hand in front of his face, he watches how his spend dribbles down his wrist and his forearm - if you were here he’d tell you to lick him clean. He waits before his breathing calms down and then he slowly sits up.

And fuck, he was in big trouble. What were you doing to him?

The second date comes around not even a week later - flirtatious looks and fleeting touches scattered throughout the week when you pass each other at work. Steve rolls his eyes at the two of you but he is honestly happy for you and for Javier too. You are his friend and after your first date Steve cornered his partner, jabbing his finger into Javier’s chest as he told him to “not fuck this up”.

This caused Javier to become defensive, saying he would never dare to even try - but under no prying eyes he was so fucking afraid. Because he was him - he left his bride at the altar for fuck’s sake and the worst thing was he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to meet you.

And he never ever felt this way with Lorraine - how his heart seemed to start beating faster anytime you touched him or how it skipped a beat when he heard your laugh. How his skin felt like it was on fire under your touch, how all of his blood traveled down to his cock each night he thought of you. He felt fucking dirty and wrong for that - but alas he didn’t fuck anyone for over half a year and he was touch-deprived, your soft touch lingering in the back of his mind as he stroked himself.

He was terrified he would fuck something up sooner or later. And you noticed it - how he seemed lost in his thoughts anytime he spend time with you, your touch on his hand pulling him back into reality. You caressed his knuckles and he smiled - a real genuine smile on his lips.

“What’s bothering you? You know you can tell me, Javi. That’s if you want to, of course.” The way you offered him a soft smile made him want to kiss you right there and then.

Because yeah, he knew he could tell you anything. You wouldn’t look at him weirdly, you wouldn’t judge him. You would sit and listen and after he’d be done talking, you would tell him your honest opinion. He rubbed your fingers that were on the back of his palm with his other hand.

“I-I am afraid, mariposa. I am afraid I will fuck this up and you will never want to talk to me again. And that would break me.” He whispered, the words meant to be heard for your ears only and your heart jumped when you saw the concern in his eyes before he looked anywhere but into your eyes. Because in reality Javier Peña was a big softie deep in his core and it was sweet how he tiptoed around this thing you had between the two of you - afraid that he would break it. Break you.

“Javi.” You said in a serious tone and he met your gaze, his breath hitching when he saw how serious you looked at him, your eyes filled with adoration. For him. “We are both adults. And it is most likely one of us will fuck something up down the road. But we will try to repair whatever damage will be made. That’s how relationships work.” You shrugged your shoulders, pulling your hands away from his as one of your colleagues passed by.

He grinned. You called it a relationship. He thought it would make him scared - putting labels on whatever was going on between you. That maybe he would run for the hills because he never wanted anything serious after Lorraine. Afraid of commitment. Afraid of his own feelings. But he didn’t. He felt fucking happy. You two were at the beginning of your relationship.

“You are right, mariposa.” He laughed as you quipped “as I always am.” “I will pick you up tonight. At eight?”

“Sound like a date, Peña. Where are you taking me this time?” He grinned, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards and he wiggled his eyebrows at you.

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Wear another dress tonight. You looked beautiful the last time.”

“You like me in a dress, Javi?” You fluttered your eyelashes innocently at him and he felt a growl building in the back of his throat as he leaned closer to you.

“You have no idea how much. Makes me hard as a fucking rock.” He left with that and as he turned around he had to hide the teasing smile on his lips as he saw your shocked expression.

Oh, but you had an idea how much. After all the walls of your apartment were thin.

You decide to wear one of your more revealing dresses - the one in a dark shade of red, tight around your body with thin straps that held it in place, the seam of it just reaching just above your knees. It makes your breasts look absolutely wonderful. A touch of red lipstick completes the look.

A knock echoes through your place and again - he is right on time. When you open the door a single rose in his hands greets you but you don’t care about that right now as you admire his look. He swapped the tight jeans - which you loved - for looser black dress pants which highlighted his narrow waist. He has a nice pair of black shiny dress boots on, his black shirt more loose than the ones he wore for work - of course, a few of the top buttons of it unbuttoned. He looked good enough to eat and you have the urge to lick the few salty droplets of sweat rolling down his torso.

He eyes your figure shamelessly and almost chokes when he sees the dress you are wearing. It hugs you in all the right places and his fingers itch to touch you, your fingers brushing against his as you take the rose from him making a surge of electricity pass through his nerves. The red lipstick you are wearing just compliments your look. You look like sin itself. And he makes it his mission that tonight the red lipstick will be smeared all over him. He clears his throat as he offers you a quiet “You look absolutely gorgeous, mariposa” and you thank him, his hand on the small of your back - as his urge to touch you wins over him. He leads you towards his car, his eyes trailing to your ass.

“So, where are we going tonight?” You ask when you are sitting in the passenger seat and he grins, his hand automatically falling on your thigh, the tip of his fingers dancing across your sensitive skin.

“You like dancing?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Depends. When I have a good dance partner then yes.” You challenge and his head falls back as he laughs bitterly - as if offended. The grip on your thigh tightens.

“Don’t worry. I know how to move my hips, mariposa.” He winks as he starts the engine.

The drive is spent in you two talking about your past relationships as you promised him on your last date. You tell him about your Texas boyfriend - your college sweetheart. He was a sweet boy, a little shy and he didn’t like to engage much in social events. You were the one who approached him first when you saw him looking at you at all times during one of the classes you had together. He stammered and blushed when you asked him out but agreed and he loosened up after a few months of you two dating - his Texan charm slipping on the surface. You tell him about how he smooth talked you into visiting his uncle who had a ranch. He took you horseback riding. You do leave out all of the spicy details though. Javier’s brows furrow in confusion - it seemed like you were totally in love with each other from your talking, so he didn’t understand why you broke up. A quick “ah” follows when you explain that he fell out of love with you. You stayed friends but eventually, both of you parted going your separate ways. Back then you were still bitter about your break up even if it wasn’t his fault. Things like those happens. But you know, love blinded you and the rage you felt sat heavy in your heart for a long time.

And in return, Javier tells you about his girlfriends and to your surprise there weren’t many. A few flings here and there - kissing behind back of his house, exploring but neber doing anything more - before he met Lorraine during high school. His high school sweetheart. They both were the talk of the town when they announced they were getting married. The sweet, handsome and hard-working Peña boy and the perfect Lorraine who seemed to be adored by everyone. She was the one who taught him a lot of tricks when it came to sex. You listen as he tells you about how he left her at the altar - it didn’t feel right and Colombia felt like a place where he could make some kind of change. Not that he made any after the years spent here. You scold him with a quick “hey”, your hand shooting to grab his hand that rests on your thigh.

“Don’t bring yourself down, Javi. You are a great agent and an even greater man. Even if you don’t believe so.” He throws you a crooked smile, his pulse going from zero to a hundred because of the way you look at him. As if he was worth looking at. He brings his lips to kiss the back of your hand.

“So, tell me; why did you give me the nickname ´mariposa’?” you ask and the mood car shifts to playful and loose again.

He can vividly remember how you were so bothered that you didn’t know what it meant and asked him about it constantly. He teased you and each time you asked - because you could tell he wasn’t telling the truth - he told you something different. It drove you mad, you wanted to ask Steve but didn’t engage with him back then as much and you felt awkward asking some random person working in DEA. He lived for the way you squinted your eyes at him and jabbed into his chest with your nimble index finger as he didn’t even budge. Eventually, he gave in and told you the true meaning of it - and as of right now, you asked him why. He never answered you.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” He asks cheekily and you huff, your hand coming to draw circles on the back of his hand.

“It doesn’t bother me per se. I just want to know why do you call me “butterfly”? His fingers drum against the steering wheel as he parks outside of a club. It was a big building and the outside of it seemed new - a big neon sign shone in the dead of the night to grab the attention of passersbys. The outside of it was made out of black bricks, and the door was made out of glass.

He turns his torso towards you - his knee bumping with the driving console while doing so. And he really does look incredible tonight - the dress pants fit as if they were made just for him and you can see the visible bulge between his legs. You look away quickly to look into his eyes but you are pretty sure he caught you staring as he shifts in his seat again.

“You remember the first time we met?” He asks and you nod - it’s hard to forget.

“Yeah, I wanted to slap you across your stupidly handsome face for how you looked at me. As if I was a piece of meat.” He laughs, his tongue poking out to lick the seam of his lips.

“Well, you looked like a butterfly - moving past me as if I didn’t even exist, your movements so effortless in those god-forsaken high heels you wear to work. By the way, I still can’t grasp how you can walk in those. Anyways. You had this green pencil skirt on and it just seemed suitable, even more so after I found out you really do wear crazy and bright colored combinations of clothing.”

They made fun of you for that - all in a good and light-hearted manner though. Not really wanting to upset you. You still remember how Javier smacked Steve behind the head when you wore a bright pink blouse with the said green pencil skirt and the blonde asked you if you were going to masquerade. When Javier saw how your jaw set and your eyebrows pulled together in silent rage he almost beat up Steve. He came to your desk later that day and told you to ignore Steve, his words of “don’t mind Murphy, he’s an idiot. You look nice, mariposa” ringing in your ears for the rest of the day.

You nod and have to agree that indeed - the nickname does suit you. He grins at that and takes you by the hand when you both get out of the car, dragging you towards the entrance of the club.

The first thing you notice is that it’s super noisy in there - people cheering, music blasting. The dance floor is a big space and even with all the people on it there are still spots where you could squeeze in with Javier if you wanted to dance. The bar is opposite the dance floor - long and more than one barman is working there, the bottles of liquor shine under the lighting that is reflected from the disco ball that lies above the dance floor. The floor isn’t sticky from all of the sweet alcohol as is the bar you frequently visit with Javier. The booths are small but cozy - a maximum of four people could squeeze in there and Javier drags you towards the empty one that is further in the back with not a lot of people there. When you sit he whispers if you’d like something to drink and you shake your head before you leave your coat on the leather seat. This time you are dragging him on the dance floor.

His hands find your hips almost immediately as the music speeds up - flowing through your veins, your ears ringing as you concentrate on the way his hips drag against yours as you grind against him.

Javier’s brain stops working - he pulls you closer to him, his hands drag across your exposed thighs higher and higher, his hands stopping just under your breasts and his touch tickles as his fingertips hover above your ribcage. He is close -you can feel his breath on the back of your neck and his mustache scrape you there, his hands gliding and groping. His hips move alongside yours and yes - he didn’t lie when he said he knew how to move his hips.

You feel him everywhere but nowhere at once - you want more and you moan when he tests the waters and one of his hands brushes against your collarbone, slowly moving the hair away from the slope when your shoulder and neck meet and he places a tentative kiss there. The ghost of his lips is so feather-light you almost don’t feel it and his other hand squeezes your hip tighter when you brush against his clothed cock that strains behind the fabric. You can feel the scrape of his mustache on your skin and feel the tip of his tongue slowly slip out from his mouth - tasting the salty taste of your skin, his blunt nails digging into your waist when you lean against him, his hand snaking to hold you in place.

You are drunk but not from alcohol - neither of you drank anything tonight. But from the sheer presence of him as you don’t even seem to dance but only explore each other. Your hands tangle in his hair and he hums in pleasure when you tug on one particular suck he gives to your skin. It will leave a nasty purple bruise tomorrow but he doesn’t care - his eyes darkening when he sees the imprint of him on your skin. You move and sway, and grind and Javier follows your lead, never once taking more than you give him. His touch makes your skin burn with primal desire for him as they skate under the seam of your dress but as quick as they go there, that quick they leave too. He is teasing you and he grins when he feels the vibration of your whine against his mouth.

He inhales your scent and his head spins - you smell like coconut and somehow…him. Sweet and tempting and he has the urge to drag you towards to small bathroom in the corner of the room. Show you how good with his hand and other parts of his body he can be, show you what you were missing all these years. And see what he was missing for all these years.

You stay on the dance floor for a while longer before you lean your head against his shoulder, your lips brushing the underside of his jaw as you whisper in his ear that you want something to drink and he nods absent-mindedly, leading you back to your booth. His hands now dip lower, smoothing his big palm over your ass lightly - the way you almost draped yourself all over him on the dance floor making him bolder. You throw him a sultry smile when he says he will be right back and he does - not even five minutes pass before he is back with two glasses of alcohol and you quirk an eyebrow at him as you see the long line near the bar.

“Hope you like gin and tonic. Whiskey on ice is getting old. Wanted us to try something new.” You thank him as he passes you your drink, your lips catching the straw and you move closer to him - his hands resting on the back of the booth around your shoulders. He splays his legs wider and you sneak quick glance at him and see the small grin - he is doing this on purpose.

Game on, Peña.

You move even closer to him, your torso twisting as your tits brush up against his chest and his breath hitches when he feels your hand land on the inside of his thigh - too close where he was getting hard. It seemed that was too easy when it comes to you. He eyes your cleavage, his eyes turning darker, his pupils blown wide as you take the drink from his hand and place it on the table, placing butterfly kisses on his neck. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands - one of them digging into the leather seat, the other stroking the base of your spine. You inch your hand higher and he should really pull it away but he doesn’t have the strength in him to do that - his throat closing on its own accord.

Your fingers quickly scatter to work on his zipper and his hand that was gripping the leather seat closes around your wrist - his lust-filled eyes looking into yours frantically. You smile at him, and he isn’t holding your wrist tight, so you slowly move his hand away, his breath speeding up when you unzip his pants and your fingers brush along his course hair that grows down his belly button. You bunch the material of his shirt and move it over his belly, he slides lower into the seat as you kiss him near the lobe of his ear.

“Want to take care of you. You okay with that, baby?” He almost whimpers at the new nickname for him that falls out of your lips. You grin against his skin, your tongue licking the hinge of his jaw and he closes his eyes when your hand snakes painfully slow towards his weeping cock - the tip of him an ugly red color, precum leaking out of it and he throbs in your hand when you take him out of his pants. He hisses, his eyes shoot open when he feels a dribble of slick rolls down the underside of him - you spat on him. And fuck, if that doesn’t make him even harder.

He is hot and hard and fucking big in your hands. You cannot see much of him in the dim light but you can feel it. He sits heavy in your palm. His hot breath fans over the front of your neck, his nose trailing over your collar bones.

“I heard you jerking off to imagines of me. The walls are thin. Did you forget, Javi? Hm?” His eyes wildly look around to see if anybody is looking your way but people are minding their own business. You heard him. You heard him every time and it makes a desire shoot down his spine knowing you listened to him.

The first swipe of your soft hand against him knocks the breath out of his lungs and you squeeze him tighter around the base when he doesn’t answer you.

“Fuck, mariposa. I couldn’t help but to jerk at the thought of you.” You smile - seemingly pleased with his answer and your thumb swipes along his tip, his hips jerking forward at the contact and you tut at him - your other hand pressures his hips to move down again. He whines, sweat rolls down the side of his temple and you lick it - his eyes roll into the back of his head, your hand moving with slow firm strokes. Just as he likes it. If he wasn’t so touch-deprived and seemingly in heaven he would have at least so much decency to touch you too. But he is lost in the feel of your hand against his, the coil in his belly tightening with each glide of your hand down his cock.

The music is loud - too loud - but the only thing he can hear is the squelch of his cock in your hand. It rings in his ears and you keep up your pace - your lips never faltering as you keep assaulting his neck and the thought of you leaving hickeys on him, marking him as yours brings him closer to his release. You mouth at the vein on his neck, feelings his pulse underneath your lips and you softly bite him there - the hand that was stroking your spine digs into the space between your shoulder blades.

The muscles in his thighs flex as he chases the touch of your hand - slowly fucking up into your hand and he feels the liquid warm need to just let go seeping into his whole being, his brows furrowing. You thumb at his head and squeeze him tighter at the base, your other hand moving to play with his balls and he chokes when he feels the feather-light touch. He opens his eyes which are hooded and he wants to look at you when you make him cum - the material of his pants is soft when your hand moves up and down. It only takes a few strokes before he warns you that he is going to cum and his fists fly to bang against the table - the alcohol on it spilling as you take him in your mouth. The wet warm feel of your mouth mixed with your tongue circling the tip of his cock has him cumming in seconds and he paints the inside of your throat with his spend. He violently twitches in you - the salty taste of him hitting your taste buds. You pull off him after he softens in your mouth and you tug him back into his pants.

“We don’t want you to make a mess. Do we now?” He doesn’t answer you, his eyes wild as he looks at you before he is bringing you towards his lips by the back of your neck - his fingers tangling into your hair.

He never imagined you would kiss under these circumstances - and he imagined kissing you a lot. It never was after you’d practically sucked his soul out. He isn’t complaining though. He can taste his release on your tongue and he deepens the kiss, wanting to swallow you whole. His other hand keeps your mouth open as it rests on the hinge of your jaw - his thumb slowly stroking your skin there. He feels desperate. Desperate to feel you. To have you. To be with you. And he tries to pour everything he feels into the kiss.

He hopes you understand.

When you part away you throw him the cutest smile -as if you just didn’t jerk him off under the table of a packed club - and he laughs, his eyes crinkling. He feels happy - that is how he always feels with you. And he wants to feel like that all damn time. When he is with you he doesn’t think about narcos or Pablo fucking Escobar and his inner demons don’t crawl on the surface of his fucked up mind.

He kisses you again. This time the kiss is softer, and not as desperate. Languid pass of tongue against tongue. As if the two of you had all the time in the world.

He doesn’t drink any more alcohol that night. Afraid that the taste of you would wash out from his tongue.

He watches you all the damn time the next day at work. The images of you last night flash through his mind. How your lips felt against his, the pass of your tongue against his cock, the soft touch of yours. He craves more, wants more, needs more.

He was shook when you finally arrived at your apartment complex and he kissed you breathless - his thigh coming between your legs as you slowly grinded on him, your fingers brushing against the smooth material of his shirt before you pulled away and bid him good night. Once again, he stood outside your door like an idiot.

He wants to return the favor. So he waits and waits on the right moment so he can pull you aside - show you that you were not the only one who could bring toe-curling pleasure to someone. He grins when he sees you enter the file room and he looks around - Steve seemingly busy with reading reports as he scoffs angrily - before he slides away. Closing the door behind him swiftly but softly.

You first hear the soft click of the door and then you feel big hands splaying over the expanse of your hips, mustache scraping over the skin on the side of your neck as he looks at what are you holding in your hands. The file is pink and thick and he takes it from you and places it in its rightful place - or at least where he thinks it was before - and you close your eyes, your muscles relaxing under his touch. You’ve seen how he looked at you today and for once, you were the one who gave him a show yesterday - being as loud as possible so he could hear. He almost lost his mind, almost knocked at your door.

He will show you that his fingers are better than any of your toys.

“What do you think you are doing?” There’s no seriousness behind your voice - he can pick up on the small smile behind it and he grins against your neck, softly pecking you there before his hands move lower, bunching the material of your skirt higher. He can hear the way your breath hitches and he grins - his tongue lapping at your pulse point, his finger inching closer and closer to your core before he turns you around. He slowly sinks down on his knees and oh my fucking god, Javier Peña is on his fucking knees for you. Looking up at you as if you were some kind of goddess and he was just a mere mortal ready to serve all of your needs. And he was ready to serve all of your needs. Your back collides with the bunch of files-filled shelves and the wood of it digs into you uncomfortably but you can’t seem to give a shit right now.

“I think you know what I am doing, mariposa. Did you think of me yesterday, hm? Did you think about how dirty of a girl you were? Jerking me under that table where anyone could see?” You moan when his blunt nails dig into the roundness of your ass as he tries to find the zipper of your skirt in the back. His gaze comes to watch your reactions as he slowly pulls the piece of clothing down your hips and bare legs as it catches on your heels and he helps you out of it. You squeal when he puts both of your thighs on the broadness of his shoulders and his head moves forward as he smells your arousal through the skimpy fabric of your panties.

It takes you a while to answer, your head spinning with the image you now have in front of you - Javier’s head between your thighs which rest on his shoulders, his wild hair in which you placed your hands in; tangling your fingers in it, how his long lashes flutter against the apple of his cheeks, his fingers digging into the soft flesh on your thighs - trying to imprint himself there. You can see the expanse of his neck and the hickeys you left the previous night - all purple and nasty looking but he doesn’t try to hide them, wearing them proudly.

“Yes, I thought about your big fat cock in my hand and how you seemed to enjoy yourself.” You tease and a sound between growl and a snarl forms in the back of his throat. What a samrt mouth you have - not for long though. One of his hands moves closer to your core and he kisses the inside of your left thigh first - his hand patting and mapping the trail of saliva he leaves with his tongue. Paying the same amount of attention to the other one as well. He worships you and takes his time - if he could stay like this forever, he would. His knees hurt under the weight of you as he kneels on the hard tiled floor but he ignores it.

You feel like you are in another world. Your breath ragged, your chest constricting as he looks at you through his eyelashes, his mustache burning your flesh in the most delicious way. You thought that maybe - just maybe - all the girls with Javier were just faking it. That his reputation was built on a bunch of fake moans and well-learned constricting of their inner muscles. But oh, how wrong you were. If he was at least half as attentive with them as he was with you right now, you had no doubt they were definitely not faking it.

“Wanna know a secret, mariposa?” You want him to just shut up and make you cum - to stop teasing you but you nod nonetheless, pathetically quickly.

“You remember when I came to you drunk? When I found the rose in your cookbook the next morning?” He murmurs as he draws patterns with his tongue against your thigh and again, you nod. How could you forget? You were so sure he was going to kiss you back then. Your lips almost touching but then Steve had to call. “I was so fucking drunk because I fucked a girl that night. She looked a lot like you and I pretended, just for a moment, that she was you. And then I went to see you and tell you that I wanted you. But this right here?” He nips at your thigh - his teeth leaving their mark behind. “Your pretty little sounds and pleas, and this pussy that is so wet for me?” He growls the last words. “This is better than any imagination I ever had. Fuck, you are so fucking perfect, mariposa.”

And his confession shouldn’t make your gut twist and fill with butterflies. It shouldn’t even surpsirise you. Not really. Because he tried his moves on you throughout the years. Multiple times. But hearing it from his mouth? That he wanted you so much that he pretended someone else was you? It makes a surge of possessiveness wash over you. He was yours all those years ago. As is he yours now, his head between your legs.

One of his hands snakes under your bum, the other trailing towards your mouth as he softly orders you to “open up” and you do - you would do anything he’d tell you right now. Two of his thick fingers work their way inside your mouth and you suck them in - moaning as he softly wiggles them before he pulls them out and in. And again, again, and again. Until you are gagging with how deep he seems to rach with them in your throat - your teeth grazing along his knuckles and he smiles; a twisted smile as if he was in pain, his nostrils flare before he removes them from your slicked mouth and shows you what a mess you made of them. Your eyes shine with lust and want and need as he drags them to your bottom lip. And then he removes them - pushes you even more towards the shelves so you won’t fall and his hand that was holding your ass moves to pull your panties to the side.

He moans at the sight of your slicked folds. His nose bumps with your clit before he inhales you all in. If he could, he’d touch himself. The image in front of him makes his cock jump in his tight jeans but this is about you. He wants to make you feel good and ruin you for any other man that would even dare to try and touch you. Because you were his - he knew it even if you never said so. As he is yours. You own him. Body, mind and soul and the thought of it hits him hard somewhere deep in his chest. He wants this. He wants people to hear and know that he is the one making you feel good - pissing off Steve would be just a cherry on top.

You plead his name - a string of “Javi please” falling out of your lips. He smiles - posessive and dark because he hasn’t even touched you yet and here you are; begging for him. All pliant and soft, and ready to take whatever he gives.

The first drag of his fingers inside of you makes you throw your head back and it collides with the wooden shelf - but you don’t feel the pain. You only feel the thickness and roughness of his fingers inside of you. His mustache burns your skin as he nuzzles your inner thigh as he watches you - his eyes dark and pupils blown back wide. He is enjoying this as much as you - you realize ,when a particular harsh thrust of his fingers makes you squeeze him hard and he moans even louder than you. It seems like he is doing it on purpose and it sends a thrill down your spine - if someone caught you here. He didn’t even lock the door.

His fingers work their way inside you - deeper and deeper, working up, up until he finds the spongy inside you. You squelch around his fingers and you beg for more. You are close, you can feel the pleasure build inside your body and when you are right on edge he stops. A whine escapes your lips as you open your eyes at him and growl in frustration. He grins and while he holds your gaze his mouth inches closer to your gaping cunt. He spits on your clit then and your eyes widen before a drawn-out moan falls out of your lips. He watches as his saliva drips down and he catches it - coating his fingers in it before he brings them into your mouth again.

You bite his fingers, the imprint of your teeth leaving its mark behind and tug at his hair when you feel the first slide of his tongue against your pussy. He moans under your harsh touch - his fingers pulling themselves deeper into your mouth and you feel the first set of tears make their way out of your eyes. It feels too good as Javier laps at you as a man starved - the vibrations of his moans making your thighs twitch.

He eats you out as if your pussy was his favorite meal - and it definitely is. The tangy taste of you hits his taste buds and he works the pink muscle into your gaping cunt - licking and exploring your walls. Javier never really was a fan of going down on someone. But with you? With the way, your breath hitches and you moan his name, how your fingers tangle in his hair and your Adam’s apple bobs with each pass of his tongue? He would keep doing this forever. And ever. He learns quickly what you like and what you don’t as he tests the waters. He is a quick learner and to your surprise - definitely a giver when it comes to sex.

He laps st you as if his life depended on it - his fingers moving with each flick of his tongue and you cry out when he puts his plump lips onto your clit and languidly sucks at it. His tongue flicking against it.

“Yeah, such a good girl. Come on, cum for me, mariposa.” He urges and one look at his state - his slack opened jaw, his ruffled hair, his hooded eyes that watch you with such an intensity you feel it in the pit of your very own being and you are a goner.

The euphoric feeling of it finally snaps, making you trash and spasm and writhe under his touch. Your toes curl and he keeps working you through your orgasm - lapping at what you give him before you push his head away forcefully as he tries to protest and give your sensitive clit a few more soft licks.

When you stand up on shaky legs he is still on his knees - his hand snaking behind the back of your thighs to hold your ass. He looks breathtaking like this - his mustache and chin covered in your release, his eyes hooded and he seems sedated, proud of himself.

You bring him to you by the collar of his shirt and he moans into the kiss you give him - all teeth and tongue, quick and he tries to deepen the kiss before you are pulling away. The taste of your own release sitting on top of your tongue and he grins when you start searching for your skirt - his eyes watching your ass as you bend down to put it back on you. The image of you in your high heels and panties will be kept hidden somewhere in the back of his mind from this time on.

When he passes by you to get out of the room first, he kisses you softly on the back of your neck before he whispers:

“Thank you for the breakfast, mariposa. It was delicious.” He skirts past you with a wink. Leaving a mess of piles on the ground behind him.

And you with a stupidly satisfied smile on your face and a hazy mind.

The third official date comes around three weeks later.

Work keeps you both busy but Javier always finds time for you. He comes to yours at night or sometimes well past midnight. Plopping next to you in bed, his hands snaking around your middle as he pulls you closer to him. And he swore he never slept better than when he slept by your side. So it becomes a habit.

It’s not a surprise to you that he seeks your touch at all times. One of Javier’s love languages is physical touch. Whether it’s just holding hands, smoothing his fingers down your spine or drawing circles on your knee under the table when you eat. Sometimes he comes sooner and you watch TV on the couch and read - to your surprise, Javier is a big fan of fantasy novels but he never actually has the time to read any so you read them to him when you two are already comfortably set in bed or lounge on the said couch- or play board games - and he has to cheat because there is no way he is so good at all of them.

Your nights spent together usually end up with you two making out - teeth clashing, lips latching onto each other, you grinding on his impressive clothed length. Sometimes it’s just a slow languid press of tongue against tongue in the early morning light when he is warm, putty and soft under your hands - the hardness of his walls that he builds up against him not yet coming on the surface. And Javier is insatiable but not only in the sense of sex. He craves the intimacy that you provide - your soft touch and sweet words as your fingers trace each and every scar, the press of your lips against them.

It’s dizzying the way you disarms him in every way. Making him feel so secure and whole as he opens up to you in ways he thought he never would have.

He feels desired as much as he desires you.

He drives you crazy - the close proximity of him makes you want to jump his bones on each and every surface in your place.

“Na-ah. I want to be a proper gentleman. So sex should come at least after the third date.” He said with a teasing smirk as he kissed your pouting lips and then ate you out on the kitchen counter.

It didn’t matter that you jerked him off on your second date. It didn’t matter that he ate you out the next day at work and returned the favor by giving you a mind-blowing orgasm. It didn’t matter that he fingered you from behind on your couch or that he fucked your throat while you laid on your bed, back splayed on the soft sheets. It didn’t matter that he had to eat you out at least once a day and it certainly didn’t matter if it was on the floor, kitchen counter, table, couch, your bed or a chair.

So it's an understatement that you cannot wait for your third date to finally happen. You are supposed to go to a nice restaurant - you’ve been there once or twice with other men that asked you on a date. But as Javi said, “I will make it a mind-blowing experience for you”. And you didn’t doubt it.

So you wait and wait, your eyes keep fleeting at the clock on your wall. An hour passes. Then two. He is never late. You are pacing around your kitchen - you tried to call Steve and called Javier multiple times. You knew they had a smaller op today, “don’t worry,” he said, “this should be an easy job,” he said. Easy job my ass. You were getting worried, your foot tapping against the tiles in your kitchen.

What if something happened to him? What if he was injured? What if he was bleeding out somewhere right now? What if he was-

A soft knock stops the train of your thoughts. Three knocks, the last one lighter than the other. Only one person knocks like that and you almost trip on your own feet as you hurry to open up the door. And he is standing there. Alive.

But he doesn’t look like your usual Javier. His clothes are drenched - the rain pouring outside heavy. It sticks to him - his clothes. His hair sticks to his forehead a few strands of it fall in front of his eyes. You see the difference in his posture, the haunted look in his eyes. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, what to do with himself. He doesn’t even know why he came to you in this fucked up state. And he wants to leave - he doesn’t want you to see him like this. But before he can get a sound out of his mouth, the hushed and broken “sorry” stuck in his throat, before he can move his heavy limbs, you are pulling him in, softly dragging him on the couch. And as before - you don’t ask. You just wait. Wait if he says something, wait if he needs something, wait if he wants you with him right now.

The realization of it makes him want to rip open his chest and give you his scarred and broken heart. Because you own it. It’s yours, if you will have it.

His body acts quicker then his mind can catch up and he is pulling you in - his strong arms winding to hold you close to him. And you don’t protest, you just hug him back, your fingers dancing across the broad expanse of his back. He breathes you in - coconut, vanilla, mango. It grounds him. Knowing that you are here. With him. Next to him. For him.

“They-they killed them. I fucked up. Fuck-“ He hiccups. “I fucked up, mariposa.” His hold on you tightens as you shush. The slow beat of your heart drums against his ear.

You rock him back and forth and he feels like a little kid again. As if he was five again and his mother kissed the bruise on his knee from when he fell off his bike. He feels wanted. Safe. Home. Neither of you know how much time has passed as he slowly pulls away from you. His nose brushes against yours, his eyes bore into yours and the mellow look you have in them makes him want to melt into you.

“I need you.” He whispers against your lips and his fingers tighten when he feels you pulling away, your hands bunching the wet material of his soaked-up shirt. You want to push him away. It’s not right. You shouldn’t. Not right now.

“Javi-“ You protest weakly.

“Please.” And that’s all it takes before you tentatively seal your lips with his. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t take more than what you are ready to give - enjoying the slow and languid pass of your tongue as you hum in his mouth. You cup his cheeks - your thumbs smoothing slowly down his jaw and his hands rest on your shoulder blades. It’s slow and sensual and neither of you is in any kind of rush. His body buzzes all over, his lungs clench - the oxygen seemingly leaving his lungs and the only thing that can make him breathe again is you. He feels warmth in his chest spreading and spreading some more when you peck his lips and you are careful with him - as if he was fragile peace of art. And to you, he is.

He doesn’t know how he got into the bedroom before you are slowly pushing him down onto the mattress and his back collides with the silken sheets. He watches your form in the dim light as you leisurely undress in front of him. His chest heaves, his breath picks up, his pupils extend. He leans back on his elbows as he watches you - how your hand reaches behind to pull down the zipper of your sundress and as it pools on the floor beneath you. Another time he would have jumped at you and pull you towards him. Another time he would pin you against the floor and fuck you silly that you would forget your own name. Another time he would make you scream his name before you would even have the chance to undress. But tonight you both take it slow - enjoying the show you are putting on for him. Tonight he wants to be the one taken care of. And you know it.

You are a goddess sent from above as you stand a few feet away from him only in your underwear. He wants to worship you as his eyes rake over your body, taking note of every dip, every mole every “imperfection”. And you are simply perfect. He holds his breath when even the last pieces of clothing fall from your form and leave you in all of your naked glory. And he seems to be glued in place before you are coming his way. It feels like a dream when your nimble fingers hook under his belt and he hears the metal on the belt buckle fall onto the ground with a clink. He reaches for you as he slowly sits up - his rough hands coming to brush and caress your pebbled nipples. He feels the weight of your breasts in his palms and it is so strange how his simple touch makes your insides burn. All of it is strangely intimate. Neither of you talks, only the ragged breaths and quiet moans that fall out of your mouth can be heard in the stillness of the room.

You push at his chest and he falls backward again with a quiet thump. You rid him of his jeans - the damp material of it sticking to him and you both laugh when you almost push him on the edge of the bed with them. It’s sweet and it doesn’t feel forced or rushed. Just two people enjoying the presence of each other, the feel of their skin, the sentiment behind each touch going straight into their hearts.

His cock is hard, the tip of him resting on his belly and he scoots backward on the bed, you following the suit. The last piece of clothing - his shirt- is gone before he knows it as you throw it somewhere behind you and it lands on the floor with a wet plop. Your thighs swing on either side of his narrow hips and your wet core makes contact with the hardness of him as you smear your juices over his length. You roam and caress his shoulders, his biceps, his chest, his neck. Stroking and teasing, and rubbing. And he does the same to you, his hands squeezing your ass before they move higher up your hips, his thick fingers ghosting over them and you squirm and giggle, your forehead bumping with his the movement tickles you. He wants to roll you over, to hover above you, to fill you up but your hands move to his shoulders, holding him tight as you look into his eyes. Your noses brush against each other and he sighs - as if all the weight from his chest had been lifted - when you whisper “I want to take care of you, Javi”.

Because yes, that’s what Javier wants. Someone to take care of him, to share his passion and hobbies and life with. He wants someone to take for a ride while they will wear his yellow aviators. He wants to take someone back to Laredo, to eventually settle down. He doesn’t want to take Escobar down and put end to all of this - retire after. And he wants to do all these things with you.

The tension leaves his body as he yields under your touch, undressing his wounds as he knows you will caress each one of his scars and kiss each bruise that is scattered not only on his body but his soul and heart too.

Bodies naked and souls bared to one another you reach blindly into the nightstand as you rip the condom and slowly roll it down his cock. Javier is big - his cock is thick and you could feel it the first time you felt him in your hands under the table in the club. When you first saw him - really saw him- your eyes almost bugged out from your head. Because you had no idea how you would fit him inside you. But you do not worry right now as you slowly sink down on him, the pinch almost too much to bare.

He waits for you to move as he kisses your neck, your shoulders, the underside of your chin. You feel like heaven around him - your walls squeezing him tight as you try to accommodate to his size. He slips his tongue into your mouth when you lift off him and then slowly -oh, so painfully slowly - sink back down the whole length of him. He kisses you more hungry this time, the kiss heated and fiery. One of his hands cups your ass while the other holds the back of your head - pulling you closer as the kiss grows more urgent, messy and sloppy as do your movements.

You feel like he is somewhere deep in your stomach, the weight of him in you makes your toes curl and the coarse hair on the base of him scratches your small bundle of nerves just right with each slide of his cock. You feel every ridge and grin of him, the tip of him hitting something deep inside you. The muscles on his thigh flex when he starts meeting your thrusts and he growls against the soft skin of your neck when your blunt nails scratch his back, your breasts bouncing with each thrust upwards. It’s glorious - this feeling you both feel. It’s not about the physical proximity right now. But It’s about everything that led you to this moment. All those years of bickering and flirting, of fighting and spending your time together led to exactly to this moment. And the awareness of it all hits you like a truck because somehow, deep inside, you knew that this would happen one day. And you think he knows it too.

The droplet of sweat that rolls down the valley of your breasts makes him lap at you there and you moan, your nails digging harder into the muscles of his back when he catches one of your nipples into his mouth, one of his hands roaming to find your clit before his skilled fingers start to draw circles on it. The roughness of his fingertips and the feel of his tongue swirling on your nipple makes seizes before your inner muscles pull him deeper, the squelch ringing in your ears before you are clamping around him - falling into an abyss. You moan his name, your orgasm washing over you before you tug at his still-damp roots and he hisses - at the way you squeeze around him, at the way you hold him.

You kiss him frantically, your tongue exploring his mouth when you feel him sob into your mouth. He pulls away and your legs lock tighter around his middle, you can feel the softness of his stomach and a sound between a growl and a moan bubbles in the back of your throat. You can feel he is close when his thrusts become more hectic as he loses rhythm, his arms somehow trying to pull you closer, his pace increasing as he chases his own high.

It only takes a few more passes of his cock through the inside of your slicked pussy and your encouring words "Come on, I want you to cum, Javi" before he is cumming. He cums with a loud moan, thrashing and jerking under you. Pumping his seed into the condom and he holds you closer, his forehead resting on your clavicle, his hands tracing over your back as a shudder runs through you when you feel him twitch inside of you.

You stay like that before he moves you off him, disposing the condom into the bin and he is surprised he can even feel his own legs. His body completely relaxes when he falls into the bed with you and pulls you almost on top of him - your legs tangle together, your chin rests on his chest as you trace his eyebrows with your fingers and he smiles at you. Because he is so fucking happy in that moment he could burst with joy.

You talk a long time after as you tell him about your sister - how she squealed into your ear when you told her over the phone you were going on a date with Javier - and he grins because if you talked about your sister with him that means that he is worth talking about. He cherishes this information and hides it into the back of his mind.

You fall asleep not long after, moving away from him a little and he watches you - you are so pretty when you sleep. You are always pretty. And his. He knows you are because he is yours.

His lips plant soft kisses where your heart is before he murmurs into your skin where it rests “I love you”. So only your heart can hear it. He is not ready to tell you. Yet. But he is completely fine with knowing your heart heard the hushed words under the ray of moonlight stream coming from your window.

TAGS: @harriedandharassed

#javier pena #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal characters #javier pena reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #soft javi #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal ff #narcos smut #javier pena one shot

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aurorawritestoescape · 2 months

Text

THE HOUNDS OF HELL

written with @milla-frenchy

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Steve Murphy

Summary: you meet two DEA agents in a bar. You drink too much and they offer to take you home.

Warnings: 18+ mndi. Dubcon (alcohol), dark!Javi, dark!Steve, unprotected piv, mfm, dvp, oral (f/m), ball sucking, manhandling, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, manipulation, cum eating, cum play, multiple orgasms. Steve can pick up reader. No age specified

Word count: 4,3k

A/n: @toxicanonymity this is for you🖤💖 It’s our way of thanking you for all the amazing fics you've been gifting us over the past year! We love you!🫶

The title is from the lyrics of Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes

Part 2 || AO3 || Milla’s Masterlist || My Masterlist

*****

You were spending Friday night with your friend in your favorite bar. The air was filled with music and cigarette smoke. You were chatting and drinking when two men approached your table. They asked if they could join you two, the place being packed. You didn’t mind, and they introduced themselves. The man who sat next to you had dark hair and piercing eyes. His name was Javi.

The blonde one, Steve, joined your friend. He had beautiful blue eyes.

Both of them were handsome and seemed nice.

Javi said they were DEA agents and you felt even more at ease around them. Every second man in Bogota was somehow connected to drug dealing and it was nice to meet someone safe. In no time you were talking, laughing and enjoying their company.

At one point Steve offered to buy another round and you agreed. A few minutes later, your friend said that she didn’t feel good. You offered your help but she refused, not wanting to interrupt the fun. At first, you felt a bit uncomfortable, alone with the two men, but as the night progressed you shared more stories, drank more tequila and forgot your concerns. They were good company and pleasant. They showered you with attention, yet weren’t sleazy or inappropriate. Sometimes you would notice their eyes lingering on your lips and chest for a little too long but you felt flattered.

“Vamos a bailar (let’s dance),” Javi suggested and you jumped at the opportunity to move as your head started to feel heavy after all the drinks.

Steve stayed at the table nursing his beer.

“Gonna watch you two for now,” he said with a glint in his eye and gave you a lopsided smile before Javi led you to the dance floor.

***

Soon your hips were seductively swaying to the rhythm of the music as Javi’s gaze was gliding over your lips, down to your breasts and legs. You turned around to show off your ass as your hands slid up and down your body accentuating every curve for his eyes to devour. A second later you felt his hands on your hips, not grabbing you but gently resting there, keeping you close. So close that you could feel his massive bulge brushing against your lower back. The idea of that handsome man getting hard because of you made you gush and you leaned against his broad chest as he wrapped his arms around your middle, a big hand splayed over your belly. Now with your heated bodies flush with each other, it seemed like there was only you and him on the crowded dance floor.

You felt his mustache tickling your cheek, his hot wet breath caressing your neck, and you turned your face to him. Javi’s eyes were obsidian with lust and even the flashing lights over your heads couldn’t push through their darkness. He looked at your lips and in the next moment he leaned in and kissed you, slowly and gently, as if luring you in. The moment his tongue tasted yours, you moaned and felt your cheeks heat up at your involuntary display of desire. You pulled away and turned your face away from him, trying to calm down and taking deep breaths.

Javi turned you around, and everything swayed, thanks to the tequila shots.

“Qué pasa, hermosa? (what is it, sweetheart?). It’s just a kiss. Estás buenísima (you’re so hot),” he whispered against your temple.

You realized that two pairs of hands were touching you. Feeling another broad chest at your back, you opened your eyes and tried to turn around but they stopped you.

“No, baby, stay like this. Wanna dance with you too,” Steve said into your ear and began moving with the music.

His bulge was grinding against your ass making you soak your panties. You were caged between the two man and albeit being nervous you couldn’t deny the growing tingling between your legs. They were hot and you were having a great time. While the music carried you, their hands were roaming your body, not aggressively but in the way that made you want more. At one point Steve’s face happened to be inches from you and your lips met. The kiss was slow and intense and you got lost in it while they both were holding you between them.

Suddenly you felt dizzy and hot so you stopped dancing and said that you needed some fresh air.

Steve walked you out while Javi went to pay for the drinks. Your legs were weak and you felt like you could fall any second.

“I think I should go home,” you mumbled, bracing your hand on the wall outside the bar.

“You ok, baby?” Steve asked with worry in his voice holding you by the waist, “Let’s get you in the car. We ain’t leaving you alone.”

“Take me home, please,” you asked as Steve wrapped his arm around your torso. You two got in the back of the car and a few moments later Javi joined you taking the driver’s seat.

***

You felt shaky and foggy, but happy to finally sit down. Too much alcohol in too little time, and you were clearly unable to drive. You took a deep breath of relief. Two DEA agents as bodyguards in the streets of Bogota, it couldn’t be better.

When Javi started the engine, you asked him to wait a few minutes, afraid of being sick. Steve, sitting next to you, leaned between the front seats to put a cassette into the car stereo and the sound of a bass guitar filled the space of the car. He turned up the volume, and you rested your head on the seat, staring at the streetlights lighting up the night city. Javi was hitting the wheel with his thumb to the rhythm of the music.

You turned to look at Steve, who was moving his head enjoying the song. Sometimes he closed his eyes, that way feeling the music even more. And then he started to sing.

You couldn’t believe how well he sang, couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked at you and smiled as he was singing, and his blue eyes made you melt. He placed his arm on the headrest behind your head and leaned down to kiss you. Your panties had already been soaked under your short dress, since the three of you had danced at the bar. You felt yourself gushing more while you were kissing.

He smelled of mint, whiskey and cigarettes and was exuding self-confidence. Damn, he was so hot, with his brown leather jacket and jeans. When his lips slid down to your neck, you slipped your fingers into his blonde hair. His mustache was rubbing gently against your skin. You glanced over at Javi who was watching you two in the rearview mirror. He readjusted himself with a smirk on his face, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Steve pulled back, his face still staying inches from yours, and asked, “how do you feel?”

“I’m better now. We can go...”

“Great. What’s your address, baby?”

After you told them, Steve gave a nod to the other man and leaned towards you again. Javi started to drive. Steve’s hand rested on your thigh, and you tried not to start rolling your hips while you two were kissing.

"Wait, I feel dizzy...we should…uh…slow down”, you mumbled, trying to blink the spinning away.

“You’re ok, baby. You didn't have that much. Soon you’ll be home, asleep in your bed, ok?”

You nodded, although you weren't sure you drank as little as he said. His lips were on yours again, and his hand slid up your leg. When you moaned against his lips, he slipped his hand between your thighs.

“No wait, I don’t-”

“Ain’t gonna hurt you, beautiful…just wanna have a good time before we get to your place.”

He hissed through his teeth when his fingers reached your pussy. “Damn! You’re soaked, baby. It's a shame we can’t enjoy it. But we’re good guys, aren’t we Javi?”

“Yeah…we’ll keep it in our pants, Hermosa, don’t worry.”

You relaxed, and when Steve plunged his fingers into your pussy you didn’t stop him. You let yourself be lulled by the ride and by his fingers, your head laid back. You snaked your hands under his jacket, and felt his hot chest, his muscles under the shirt. Your eyes rolled back, and you whispered, “fuck…’m gonna…’m gonna come.”

“Yeah, you're squeezing my fingers so damn hard. C’mon, give it to me, baby, you’ll feel better, I promise.”

You noticed him glance at Javi and smile, but your mind was too foggy to react. When you came all over his fingers, you grabbed his wrist to keep them buried inside you until you stopped shaking.

“Fuck…I really think I drank way too much…Shouldn’t have done that.”

You looked out the window, feeling the car slow down, but you didn’t recognize the houses.

“Where are we?”

“Just grabbin’ some stuff at Javi’s…won’t be long. Come on, baby. Can’t stay in the car at night, it’s too dangerous.”

“Wait, no…You said you were bringing me home!”

“And we gonna. Won’t be long, I told ya. Unless you wanna walk home alone, from here? Your choice.”

You sighed, and followed them. You couldn't possibly walk alone, in the middle of the night, in that dress. You stumbled, and Javi grabbed your arm.

“Lemme help you,” he said, smiling.

***

He led you to his apartment, Steve walking in front of you two. Your legs were still trembling from your orgasm and the alcohol in your blood. When you entered Javi’s place, the men glanced at each other and you felt slightly uncomfortable.

“You’re gonna drive me home, right?”

“Sure, baby”, Steve replied.

You shivered from the cold, your jacket was in your car, and your tight dress covered little of your body. Javi poured three shots of tequila, which he and Steve drank in one go. Javi handed one to you.

“Come on, hermosa. It’ll warm you up.”

You knew it wasn't a good idea, but you didn't dare refuse. You drank it, trying not to think about your complaining stomach.

They took off their jackets, and Steve moved closer to you. “Come dance with me,” he said, holding out his hand to you. Javi put on some music, and you mechanically took Steve’s hand. The music was soft, and even though you still felt shaky, Steve held you and you couldn't deny the warmth in your lower stomach. His hands slid down your body, brushing against your back then your hips, his nose buried in your neck. He breathed into you and his soft growls fueled the fire within you. When he moved his body closer to yours, you felt his hard cock. Javi joined you, pressing himself against your back. He was hard too. You let them lead the pace, and their sensual caresses made you forget your discomfort.

“You know, beautiful, we’d like to have a good time with you. I think you want it too. Don’t ya?”

“I…I don’t know. I’m not feeling well.”

“I’ll tell you what. We're gonna check if your pretty little pussy wants it. Ok?"

Without waiting for your response, Javi lifted your short dress.

“Look at me, baby”, Steve said, as Javi slipped his hand into your panties.

“Wow, hermosa…you're dripping. This pussy wants to get filled. She wants to take some cocks.”

Steve's eyes were fixed on Javi's, before looking into yours. His gaze was overflowing with carnal desire while Javi was gently running his finger over your clit.

“What do you think, baby? I know you liked it in the car. Want a little more?”

You couldn’t deny that Steve made you come quickly. If he was as good at fucking you as he was at fingering, you were going to have a great time. While you were trying to gather your thoughts, he smelled his fingers covered with your dried cum and licked them.

“Taste her, Javi. She tastes so good.”

Stunned, you felt Javi remove his fingers from your pussy, before licking them too.

“Yeah…wanna eat that cunt now. You’re ok with that, Hermosa?”

You saw yourself nodding, without really controlling your response.

“Come in the bedroom, bebita. Lemme taste you.”

***

You followed them, and Steve led you to the bed where you lay on your back. Javi took off his shirt. He was beautiful. Both of them were.

Javi crawled across the bed to you, pulling your dress up over your hips. He licked your pussy still covered by your panties and you couldn’t help but moan. Steve sat next to you, took off his shirt too, and unzipped his jeans. Javi alternated between running his fingers and pressing his tongue against the soaked fabric. He pulled your panties to the side, and planted a kiss on our clit, making you moan instantly.

“Fuck, hermosa…wanna eat you so bad.”

He traced your folds with his nose, then his tongue. Pointing it at your folds, he spread them as it went through, and you were no longer holding back your moans.

“Wanna let me fuck you a little, before I taste you? Yeah?”

You nodded. The fire in your core was devouring you from the inside and you weren't really in a state to say ‘no’ anymore. When Javi settled between your thighs after taking off his jeans, Steve was already lying naked against you. He let his fingers run over your breasts, your stomach, your hips. Both of them were gorgeous and hot.

Javi took his cock in his hand and rubbed it against your folds to soak it with your wetness. As he nestled his tip at your entrance, Steve placed his fingers on your chin, turned your face to his, and kissed you. When Javi thrust in, you whimpered into Steve's mouth and he smiled. You felt your folds spread around Javi’s thick cock, and it felt good, so good that you couldn't help but moan.

“Oh fuck, you’re tight. Damn…already wanna blow my load into this pussy.”

He thrust in a few more times, growling in your neck each time he bottomed out, before pulling out and sitting down on his heels.

“Want me to fuck you too, beautiful?” Steve asked.

You nodded, and he manhandled you on top of him, your back on his chest, your dress pulled up above your breasts.

“We’re gonna make you feel really good, baby. Trust me.”

Your knees were bent and your feet planted on the bed. He grabbed his cock and pushed it up into you slowly, while Javi's eyes couldn't tear themselves away from your pussy swallowing Steve's cock. “Fuck me, that’s hot”, he said, still looking at the place where your bodies made one.

You felt exposed, fully offered to them, as Steve thrust into you slowly, after Javi had already stretched you.

Your eyes were closed, your body following Steve’s movements, so you didn’t see Javi leaning towards your pussy. When you felt his lips on your clit you breathed out a soft “oh my god”.

Steve said, “I told you we’d make you feel good, baby.”

And damn he was right. Steve’s cock was plunging in and out of your pussy while Javi was sucking on your clit. Sometimes he lapped at your folds, and you knew his tongue met Steve’s cock, his soft skin. It turned you on even more.

They heard you moan loader every time Javi’s tongue moved up from your folds to your clit, as he played with your sensations, swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud. Steve groaned, still fucking your pussy, “Damn, I’m gonna come hearing you whimper like that, baby…”

"Not yet", Javi growled, "We're not done with her.”

He slightly lifted his torso up and asked you, “you’re gonna be a good girl, and cum on Steve’s cock, hermosa?”

You nodded, feeling how close you were from the double sensations. Javi’s tongue dancing over your clit and Steve’s slow strokes in your pussy were making your orgasm build fast.

“Come on, baby”, he said. Be a good girl, and soak my fat cock.”

When the climax hit you, Steve didn't stop talking. Telling you that he was proud of you, that you were taking his cock so well, and that he couldn’t wait to fill you up.

You had just come for the second time that night, and you thought it would be the last. But when Javi pulled back and Steve lifted you up, you realized that you were wrong. Javi lay down on the bed, as Steve took off your dress and said “You’re gonna ride Javi now, beautiful. Make him feel good, ok?”

You straddled Javi, and without hesitation this time you grabbed his cock with your hand before impaling yourself on it.

“Look at you, Hermosa…taking my big cock like a champ.”

Their praise made your head spin, and when Steve stood up and presented his cock to you, you didn't hesitate. You gave it a few licks, before letting him sink into your mouth. You slowed down your movements so you could suck him properly, and his precum was running down your throat.

“Yeah, just like that, baby. You’re so damn good at this.”

You were giving all of yourself, wanting to please him. At the same time Javi’s hands were roaming your body as you were riding him.

“Wanna suck my balls now, baby? Yeah, just like that, fuck…”

Steve held his cock against his lower stomach and jacked off while you licked his sack. You took one in your mouth, then the other, looking into his eyes. His gaze was down at you, as his firm hand kept jerking his cock, until he pushed it down your throat again, holding his balls in his large, firm hand.

“Fuck, Steve, we found a good slut. Ready to take our cocks in her little holes.”

Steve hummed, alternating between slow and deep thrusts in your mouth, and then fucked your throat until you were choking on his cock.

He pulled out and said before getting off the bed, “Fuck her rough now, make her scream on your thick cock. Gotta prepare her for what we’re gonna do next.”

You shivered when you heard him, wondering what he was talking about, but Javi didn’t give you time to think. He gripped your hips, fucking up into your pussy hard and fast.

“Yeah…take it like a good whore. Fuckin’ take it.”

Steve was sitting in a chair by the bed smoking a cigarette and watching you getting pounded. He turned on an oscillating fan standing on the dresser as it got too hot. The air was humid and smelled of sex.

Javi grabbed your neck with both hands, slowing down the pace and instead fucking you deeply, and groaned, “I want you to come on it.”

You didn't have the presence of mind to say that you couldn't come again. Your clit was rubbing against Javi’s lower stomach and, being impaled on his cock, you let your body take over and you came again, hearing Javi growl, “fuck…this pussy’s squeezing me so hard.”

Steve was calmly watching you unravel on Javi’s cock, a cigarette in his mouth and his hard dick in the hand. His thick long member was still glistening with your saliva as he was slowly stroking himself.

When you braced your hands on the bed feeling and looking spent after the drinks and the fucking, Javi sat up and let you rest on his chest. You were catching your breath on his lap, nuzzling his neck, when Steve got up from the chair and came up to the bed. He handed the almost finished cigarette to Javi who took a few drags, holding you against him.

Then the men looked at each other, communicating without saying a word, and Steve slid his hands under your arms lifting you and helping you off the bed. The men were manhandling you as if you were a fuck doll for them to use. You felt degraded but couldn’t help but love it.

You stumbled on your trembling legs and Steve immediately grabbed you by the back of your thighs and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and he searched for your lips with his.

Everything was buzzing around you and you felt like you could fall off him every second. So you embraced his neck tightly with your arms and let him devour your mouth. You couldn’t help but rock your hips and grind your pulsating clit against his soft tummy.

While kissing Steve, you heard Javi get off the bed and stand behind you. His hands grasped your thighs and he whispered into your ear, “ready to take our fat cocks, hermosa?”

When you parted from Steve and looked at him with worry, the man gave you a carnal smile, tilting his head.

“We got you so wet, baby, they’ll slide in with no problem. And we’ll be slow, we promise. Right, Javi?” he said with a smirk glancing at his friend over your shoulder.

“Claro (sure),” Javi chuckled, as Steve’s cock nudged your wet hole.

You moaned when he pushed his tip into you, your thighs spread wide around his middle letting him do it easily.

“Stick it deep inside her. She deserves it,” Javi murmured, his lips brushing against your neck.

You felt Steve’s cock slide into you deeper inch by inch until he bottomed out with a soft ‘yeah’, his fingers digging into your thighs. Steve made a few slow thrusts bouncing you on his cock and you whimpered into his shoulder.

“Stuff her pussy with me, Javi.”

He grasped the back of your neck with one hand and pushed you closer to him, your naked breasts pressed to his chest. Javi was helping to hold you up as Steve’s length was buried deep inside your cunt.

“Got a place for me, hermosa?” Javi murmured and his hand guided his cock to your entrance, already stretched around Steve’s thick member.

You felt him push the tip in and you gasped.

“C’mon, bebita, let me in,” he whispered as his hand slithered between your bodies and he began rubbing your throbbing clit. Your eyes rolled back and Javi finally slid the head in. You felt stretched to the limit as the second cock was spreading your walls wider but the dull ache soon was replaced by pleasure when they started rhythmically rolling their hips. Your moans and their grunts filled the bedroom as their cocks were moving in and out of your crying cunt. Steve’s half lidded eyes were locked with yours.

“Fuck… love your pussy, baby.. ‘s tight.”

“She’s dripping down my balls, Steve. Nuestra putita (our little slut),” Javi said through panting, increasing the pace at which his length was ruining you. Pleasure was spreading through every cell in your body and you were trembling in their arms.

Your cries were getting louder and the men were growling with animalistic vigour, caging you between their sweaty bodies.

“Come again for us, baby, come on our cocks,” Steve encouraged you as his hand grabbed your breast and he twitched your nipple.

“We’re gonna fill you so full, hermosa, you’ll taste our cum on your tongue,” Javi whispered, leaving kisses on your cheek and jaw, still rubbing your clit with his fingers.

Steve chuckled at Javi’s words and they both started moving you up and down their cocks. The gentleness was gone, only feral desire was leading their actions. You felt their members slide against each other inside your dripping pussy, hitting your cervix and massaging your soft spot.

Your climax hit you so hard and you were shaking in their embrace and tears welled up in your hazy eyes. Every part of your body was flooded with ecstasy and your brain shut off while they kept fucking you through your shattering orgasm.

Soon they both followed you. First Steve moaned, closed his eyes and thrust deep and slow into you, shooting the spurts of his warm cum as deep as he could.

“Gonna fill her too,” Javi growled and bit your shoulder before he began squirting his seed making your pussy even fuller. Steve seemed completely lost in the pleasure. They both kept fucking you through their highs and the lewd sounds of squelching mixed with the moans.

When they stilled inside you, you slumped down in their arms completely spent, exhausted, fucked out like never before and they both placed you down on the bed. You all were breathing heavily, bodies sweaty and satiated.

Javi went to get a cigarette and Steve sat down on the bed next to you. He was looking down at you smiling while his hand glided down from your stomach to your puffy folds. You whimpered when his thumb brushed your clit and you tried to close your legs.

“Shh, I won’t, I won’t. Just wanna see you ruining the sheets, baby. Spread ‘em.”

Still catching your breath you opened your legs. You felt a trickle of their cum spill out generously out of your stretched hole and slide down to your asshole. Steve cursed.

“Javi, come look at our messy girl,” he said, his eyes glued to your overflowing pussy. His fingers kept sliding between your folds gathering the pearly liquid and pushing it back inside you.

Javi came up to the bed, his semi hard cock swaying with each movement, and stood there smoking and watching Steve play with your cunt. You felt your core tighten again but couldn’t keep your eyes open anymore. The room was spinning when you finally let yourself rest and fell into deep sleep.

***

You woke up the next day in your bed, your pussy sore and your head pounding. Your roommate said that a blonde man had brought you home asleep in his arms early in the morning. You tried to puzzle together the details of the night but all you could remember was the best fucking of your life.

*******

Thank you for reading!❤️

Comments and reblogs will be greatly appreciated!

PART 2

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Other fics by @milla-frenchy and me

Keep on your mean side - Joel x f!reader - dark

The Burglary - Joel x f!reader x Tommy - dead dove, noncon

Bad Girl - Joel x f reader x Tommy - dubcon

*****

Here’re our Steve and Javi fic recs❤️ Check these hot stories out!🥵

The Raid (Javi x reader x Steve) @toxicanonymity

After Hours (Javi x reader x Steve x Carillo) @psychedelic-ink

Crossing Lines (Javi x reader x Steve) @lunitawrites

Lie Still (Javi x reader x Steve) @milla-frenchy

Tag list: @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @survivingandenduring @missannwinchester @iamasaddie @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling @stevie75 @puduvallee

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