#My Narcos Fic
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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24
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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo
Words: 7,356
Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.
Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.
Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.
I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!
I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.
Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake
A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.
Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.
If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.
Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.
Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.
He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.
Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.
He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.
“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”
“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”
Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.
Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”
“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”
“I did warn you.”
“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”
“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”
“The Mareco?”
“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”
Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”
“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”
“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”
“About what?”
“About how you developed a problem with authority.”
“What’s your excuse then?”
“What can I say? I was led astray.”
It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.
“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”
“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”
“Maybe you were my exception too.”
A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.
"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”
Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”
By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.
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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.
Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.
As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.
The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.
“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”
“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”
“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”
She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.
Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.
“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”
“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”
“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”
Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.
“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”
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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.
The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.
Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.
“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.
“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”
“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”
Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.
They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.
“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.
Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”
“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”
Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”
“He’s not the only one.”
Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.
“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.
“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.
“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”
Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.
Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.
Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.
“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.
“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.
“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.
“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.
“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”
“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”
“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”
Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”
Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.
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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.
Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.
“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.
At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”
Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.
“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”
“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”
Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.
Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.
Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.
As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home.
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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.
“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.
“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”
“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”
Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.
“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.
“You had a good teacher.”
“So did you.”
“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”
“Like our Christmas tamales.”
“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”
“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”
Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.
“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.
“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”
“What?”
“You must’ve heard the arguments?”
“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”
“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”
“That’s what it was about?”
“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”
“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”
“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”
“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.
Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.
“How did you know?”
“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”
Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.
“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”
“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”
Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”
Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.
“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.
“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.
“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.
“He does.”
“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”
Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.
“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”
“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”
“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”
“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”
“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”
Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.
“So, you were there a whole year?”
“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”
“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”
“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.
“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”
Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”
“Does it?”
“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”
Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”
“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”
“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”
“It was killing you.”
“I know.”
“And Papá would have told you the same.”
A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”
“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”
“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”
But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.
“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”
“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”
Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.
He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.
“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”
“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”
“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”
“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”
“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”
“You never said anything.”
Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”
Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”
It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”
“I don’t just mean the ambush.”
“I know,” she said briskly.
But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.
“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”
“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”
“Are you mad?”
“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”
An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.
“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”
“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”
“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”
“We will, I promise.”
“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”
“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”
“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”
“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.
Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”
“How did –?”
She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”
Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.
“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”
“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”
“Something like that.”
Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.
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Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.
That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.
A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.
“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.
“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”
“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.
“Fuck you.”
Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.
Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”
“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.
“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.
“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”
“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”
“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."
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It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.
The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.
“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”
“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.
“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.
“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”
Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.
“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”
“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”
Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.
She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”
Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”
“Guest’s choice.”
He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.
That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.
“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”
“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”
Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”
“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”
“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”
“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”
“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”
“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.
“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”
“Again, I’m not surprised.”
“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”
The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.
“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”
“He thought it was his duty."
“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.
“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.
Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”
“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”
Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.
“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”
“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.
“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”
Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”
“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”
“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”
“Maybe.”
“Drink up.”
Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”
Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”
Javier gasped. “There are?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”
“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."
“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”
“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”
“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.
She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)
“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”
“A fair demand.”
“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”
“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.
His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”
For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.
But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”
Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.
But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.
Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.
“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”
Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.
“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”
He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.
“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged.”
“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”
At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”
“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.
She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”
#Narcos fic#Narcos#Javier Peña#Horacio Carrillo#Carrillo#Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo#Pedro Pascal#Maurice Compte#Narcos fanfic#Narcos fanfiction#Narcos fan fic#My Fan Fic#My Narcos Fic
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Does hubby and his wife have rougher sex sometimes? I saw you wrote a post where you thought about him spanking her 🙊🙈
Rough (Drabble)
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost
A/N: This is just a little treat because I love getting smutty anons. The monkey emojis really made me do it. As always, thank you to @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for beta’ing. Absolute queen 🫡💖
Summary: PWP. It is what it is!
Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)
Tags: husband!javier loves his wife, dom/sub undertones, rough sex, doggy style, pet names, praise kink, dirty talk, spanking, light choking, sprinkled with breeding kink, sprinkled with some love and devotion
Word count: 800
Rough
Javier has you on your hands and knees. The house is empty except for you, all doors and windows closed to allow what you are doing to reach a volume that would concern your neighbors if they heard.
“Put your hands on the headboard,” he commands as he fucks you and you immediately grab it so harshly that your knuckles start to hurt. However, you are too caught up in the way pleasure shoots through your system like tiny electric currents to notice.
“Who’s a good girl?” He asks and lets his palm come down on your ass and your moan is pathetic. The lingering sting makes you clamp down on his cock, causing a low growl to spill from his mouth in the midst of his strained panting. He goes impossibly rougher and sends you flying forward until you have to cross your arms in front of you, rest them on the headboard, and lay your forehead against them if you don’t want to bang into the wall.
“Me,” you whisper, trying to concentrate on your rapidly approaching orgasm. His cockhead is grinding against your g-spot with each thrust, and it feels so good that you cannot keep sounds from pouring from your lips. Your heart beats fast, your face is hot and you can feel sweat run down your spine as you share body heat with him.
“Say it louder, Princesa (princess),” he groans and smacks your ass again, “C’mon now, let me hear it.”
“It’s me,” you let him know in a higher-pitched voice. He makes a sound of approval but you keep begging for him to make you finish, “Please, baby.”
“And who did a good job tonight?” He continues his questions with a shakier voice. You try to imagine the way his forehead creases slightly when he is focused, and the mental image makes your clit jump.
“Me!” You try to grind back into him, “Oh God, I’m—“
“M-hm, baby. You’re my sweet, good girl,” his breath hitches in his throat when you start to flutter around him, signaling that your pleasure is just around the corner. He pounds your g-spot, “And who gets to come on my cock?”
“I do,” you reply without hesitation, and then you peak after those words. As you come with a loud cry of relief, he reaches around you to splay a hand on your chest and lifts you up until your back is against his chest. You moan feebly as you still feel the warm waves of pleasure pulsating between your legs, but the sound dies in your throat as his broad hand reaches upwards to grip around your neck. He holds you in place, the other hand going down to your cunt to stroke your clit until you cannot think anymore. It hurts so good to be forced to come again, and Javier drives into your sensitive cunt with newfound energy, desperate for his own release.
“Te quiero (I love you), I’m gonna get you fucking pregnant, baby, mi chica sucia (my dirty girl),” he bites at the spot behind your ear, squeezing around your throat. It is the sound of you choking on a moan as you come again that sends him over the edge, your walls pulling him further in and fucking the come from his cock. He groans and settles inside of you whilst he spills his load, giving you enough to make it drip down the sides of your abused hole whilst he is still nestled inside of you.
He slumps and holds your body close, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. When you think it’s over, he thrusts one last time to push his seed as far inside of your cunt as possible before he might go soft. You sound like you might cry.
“Shh,” he soothes, “I’m taking care of you. No crying, mi amor (my love).”
“I love you too,” you finally reply.
“Lo sé (I know),” he kisses your back gently, moans when he slips out of you, “I’m gonna move, let yourself move with me.”
You nod with a whimper. He lets the both of you fall to the side and hugs you around the middle in this new position. You close your eyes, relishing in the way it feels like his cock has molded you forever, and sigh with deep satisfaction.
“Más (more),” you say softly, “Quiero más (I want more).”
“Bebita (little baby),” there is a hint of something condescending in his voice. You whine but he soothes you by reaching down to cup your whole mound, easing two fingers into you until you mewl, “You can have whatever you want.”
.
.
.
FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️
#pedro pascal characters#javier pena smut#javier pena fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#javier pena imagine#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javi p#javi peña#javi pena#javier peña#javier pena one shot#javier pena x reader#javi p x reader#narcos fanfiction#narcos#javi pena x you#javier pena x you#husband!javi#siggy replies#my writing
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you call and I come running
rating: E for Explicit! 18+
pairing: javier peña x f!reader
word count: 8K
summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.
warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n, spanking
a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)
🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link
Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty.
Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension.
Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees.
A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.
You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said –
Whatever he said, you told him no.
Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen.
It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.
And then he never looked at you the same way.
You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him.
Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part.
He doesn’t look at you the same way.
Or at all.
He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.
Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.
“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”
The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine.
“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.
You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”
He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?”
The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin.
“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.”
He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.
“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed.
“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.”
“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?”
He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has.
“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.”
His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”
“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.”
He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat.
Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.
“Save it.”
You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.
“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”
“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.
The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.
“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod.
The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places.
“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”
Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway.
“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him – running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night.
There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense.
El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.
Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.
Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips.
A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.
And you need a fucking win.
You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.
And something cracks you across the chest.
Powder. Blue. Lots of it.
You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet.
Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.
“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest.
You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates.
You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.
“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper.
He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you.
A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.
“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.
His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”
He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.
Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough.
He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.
“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”
Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.”
Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.
“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this.
You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass.
“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command.
He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.
He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.
To you.
But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.
Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.
His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.
Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –
With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall.
“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”
“What do you–,”
You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing.
“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”
You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.
“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.
“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”
He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need.
He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks.
“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”
You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.
He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”
“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him.
“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?”
You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh.
His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”
The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.
“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”
“More, Javier, more.”
He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”
If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs.
“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”
“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!”
His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles.
“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –
And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life.
“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”
But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh.
“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.”
His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor.
“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks.
“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more.
He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs.
“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.”
On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing.
Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all.
But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in.
If you just –
“Come for me.”
You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot.
Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck.
You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again.
“Javi, did you . . .”
He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down.
“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.
*~*~*
Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.
Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely.
But that is something he is not capable of right now.
In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse.
A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.
Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them.
You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.
You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days.
Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open.
“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”
In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off.
He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.
“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest.
“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.”
“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.”
“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission.
You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.”
“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands.
You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock.
“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again.
“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you.
He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to.
“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you.
You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.
“Please, Javi, please.”
He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end.
“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”
Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him.
He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips.
He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick.
You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.
“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you.
“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”
He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.
“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.
“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,”
He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.
You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.”
He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips.
“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”
He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb.
Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls.
And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.
He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning.
He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs.
The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth.
You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth.
“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”
Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.
“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?”
You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.
“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”
You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”
He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.
“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.”
“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.”
His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.
You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.
He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s.
“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted.
His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open.
“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”
He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week.
The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.
“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.
“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”
You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you.
Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.
Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release.
“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.”
His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking.
He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted.
He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.
He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his.
*~*~*
Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.
The heatwave had finally broken.
It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels.
You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake.
He wants to know how you feel about last night.
“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”
You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away.
Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”
He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.
You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek.
“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”
His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change.
“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs.
“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”
“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles.
“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock.
“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.”
“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you.
He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession.
“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?”
You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck.
“Not at all.”
When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while.
Noonan is annoyed.
Murphy is not.
“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”
“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.”
“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”
“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.”
You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”
He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”
“Not at all.”
#javier peña x reader#javier peña#javier pena fic#javier pena narcos#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier pena smut#javier peña x y/n#javier pena x y/n#javier pena one shot#javier pena x ofc#javier peña smut#javier peña x you#narcos#narcos netflix#this is my first time writing sex pollen did i do okay?
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Falling for you
Summary: When you decided to bring your daughter to Colombia to work for the CIA to take Pablo Escobar down, you never thought you would find someone to fall in love with....
Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader
Wordcount: 6.2k
Rating: E
Warnings: colleagues to friends to lovers, reader has a daughter, mentions of dead husband, death of best friend, angst, fluff, domestic Javi, kissing, smut (unprotected sex), feeeeeelings
A/N: This fic has been in the making for almost 2 years. I can't really explain why, but it took a long time and before I keep on editing it, I put it out in the world. I'm aware the last thing the CIA would do is send a single mother with her child to Columbia in the eighties but this is fiction and I don't want to hear complaints lol Also please let me know how you like the mood boards this year. I'm trying to change things up
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“He’s starring again.” You looked up from the file you were reading, looking at your partner Enrique before you let your eyes wander to the desk across the room. You had been here in Colombia for a good three months now. It might have been the worst idea you ever had to take your daughter with you to one of the most dangerous countries in the world, but it was not like something was holding you back in the states.
You were used to the looks of all the men who thought they were more important than you.
More intelligent than you.
The whispers behind your back.
The catcalls.
How they always tried to talk over you. But they didn’t know what you knew. They didn’t know the resources you had. Working as one of the few women at the CIA as an active agent took a lot from you. But you did it for the greater good. You did not talk to many of the men working in your department. Except for your partner Enrique and your supervisor. You and Enrique had been working together back in the states and him coming with you was one of the conditions you had before you agreed to go. You needed someone you could trust if you would work here to help to take down the biggest drug cartel in the world. You needed someone you could trust your daughter with, apart from the two nannies the CIA was providing all around the clock.
Of course the safer and easier way would have been to stay back in the states. Where your daughter could play outside without being watched by at least one CIA Agent. But ever since your husband died almost four years ago on a mission, you had been searching for the change you needed in your life. And against all better judgement you found yourself agreeing to go and take your six year old daughter Eva with you to Colombia. Was it crazy? Obviously. Did it still feel like the right decision? Absolutely.
Javier Peña was looking at you, a cigarette between his lips. The first three buttons of his baby blue shirt were open and his finger kept rubbing over the side of his face. You nodded at him before you focused back on the files in front of you.
“Do you think he would still look at you like that if he knew about Eva?” Enrique whispered. You rolled your eyes.
“He can look at me all he wants. I know how good I look today,” you chuckled and made him laugh. You were wearing a white silk blouse and dark red dress pants.
You did enjoy flirting with Javier Peña.
He and his partner Steve were the only ones around here who actually talked to you. And in Javier’s case, try to get into your pants. And a part of you did enjoy the attention you got for him.
No one had looked at you like he did since your late husband.
And even though you knew it was dangerous to entertain his flirtations, you found yourself doing it. You found yourself thinking about him more often, even though you knew that nothing would ever come out of it. He was, well, he was Javier Peña. Fucking everything that just looked his way and you were a widowed single mom.
Of course you did enjoy it when he invited you for a drink after work at the bar around the corner. Who wouldn’t enjoy being invited for a drink by a handsome man? The problem you had was that he knew exactly how handsome he was and he knew how to use it. Because deep down, in the moments Javier Peña was just himself and not the guarded DEA Agent with commitment issues, you could see him as a man you could fall in love with.
“Why did we end up in this shithole again?” Enrique asked. You were about to answer when Carillo came back in, shouting in Spanish and everyone around got up and moved.
“What’s happening?” You asked, internally cursing yourself for not knowing more Spanish.
“Something about La Quico and a brothel?”
There was something about La Quico and a brothel and you knew from the moment you heard about the intel and the plan that it would go to shit. Now, as you were standing outside, bulletproof vest still on, watching how body after body was carried out of the building, you kept shaking your head.
If any of these fuckers would have just listened to you.
Woman after woman was carried out. Dead. But your knees almost gave out when you saw your partner's lifeless body being carried out. Hugging yourself, you looked away from him and up to the sky to stop yourself from crying, They did not need to see you crying. You would wait to break down until you were home and after your daughter was tucked it.
You felt someone stand next to you.
“I’m sorry,” Javier said and you breathed in deeply, not looking away from the sky.
“It’s not your fault,” you answered quietly. Because it wasn’t. Javier actually had been more than vocal about what a shit idea this was in the first place.
“I’m still sorry,” you smelled the smoke he breathed out and you finally looked at him. He looked as tired as you felt. You reached for the cigarette between his lips inhaling the smoke yourself, before you handed it back to him. Steve came to stand beside him, the same tired expression on his face.
“I think we could all use a drink,” he said and you sighed.
“He’s been my partner for more than 8 years. And my friend for almost 20,” you shook your head, looking at Steve before your eyes fell back on Javier.
“I really wanna go home.”
“We’ll take you.” Steve said.
You could still see the lights on in your daughters room and you sighed. You weren’t ready to tell her that her Uncle Ric wouldn’t be helping her with her Spanish skills anymore, that he wouldn’t help her paint her bedroom after he made the big plan for her to get her jungle book room.
“I’ll walk you in,” Javier said as the car stopped. You only nodded, saying your thanks to Steve as you stepped out and walked across the street.
“Are you okay on your own tonight?” He asked, as you opened the door to the house, walking in. Javier kept following you.
“I’m not alone, and I am planning on getting drunk and then cry myself to sleep. It’s Saturday tomorrow right?” You asked and he nodded.
“I guess I’ll see you on Monday,” Javier said quietly. You felt the tears in the corner of your eyes and you prayed he would just turn around and leave. You just nodded, your lips already trembling. The reality of how alone you felt hit you like a brick as you looked at the apartment door across from yours, where Enrique lived… used to live.
“Please go Javier. I don’t need you to see me breaking down,” you pleaded and turned away from him, putting the key into the lock of your apartment.
He sighed before he said your name. You felt his hand on your shoulder and against your better judgement you turned around and let him pull you against him, as you sobbed into his shirt.
You blamed it on the loss of your best friend, the need to feel something, that you just leaned in, your ear on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his hands rubbed soothingly over your back.
“You are going to get through this,” he whispered. You enjoyed this moment. Standing outside of your apartment in his arms. He wasn’t being a flirt. He was just there to comfort you. You breathed in deeply, his scent in your nose and you had never noticed just how good he smelled.
“Thank you Javier,” you whispered and brought some distance in between you. Looking up into his tired eyes, the hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at you, you were more than grateful when you heard footsteps behind your door. Untangling yourself from him you brushed your tears away and put a smile on your lips just in time before the door opened. Eva jumped into your arms as you turned around.
“I missed you Mommy!” She giggled and you felt yourself smile as you picked her up and carried her in your arms.
“I missed you too, princess,” you whispered into her hair, before you set her down.
Looking up you saw Maria standing there with a tired smile on her lips.
“I tried everything Miss, but she wanted to wait until you’re home.”
“It’s okay. Thank you,” you nodded at her. She looked behind you and you followed her gaze, finding Javier standing in your door as if he was out of place. Maria nodded at him as she said her goodbyes. He stepped out of her way as she left.
“Either in or out Pena,” you said. He looked at you, about to open his mouth when Eva came back with a painting she had made today.
“Who is that?” She asked looking at Javier.
“That is one of the Agents I’m working with,” you explained nodding at him. He still looked between you and Eva like a fish out of the water before he shook out of it.
“I’m Javi. And I should go before my partner drives off without me,” he said the last words looking at you. You nodded.
“Bye Javi. Thanks for bringing my mom home safe,” Eva smiled, and you sighed.
“Go brush your teeth, I’ll tuck you in in just a moment, okay?” You smiled down at her, your hands brushing over her cheek before you leaned down to kiss her forehead. She nodded, waving towards Javier and left the room to go to the bathroom.
“She’s a…” Javier began.
“Yeah,” you nodded, walking towards him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked.
“You never asked,” you shrugged. He nodded. You could see the many questions he had in his eyes.
“Will the two of you be okay here tonight? Alone?”
“We will. Thank you. And now go, before Steve actually drives off without you,“ you smiled forced.
“Okay. I’ll see you on Monday?” He asked, sucking his bottom lip in. You nodded.
“Good night Javier,” He nodded too and turned around, slowly walking down the hallway.
“It’s Javi,” he called over his shoulder and you frowned.
“Friends get to call me Javi,” he looked at you. You had to smile at that before you finally closed the door behind you.
Within two weeks after this day, everything had changed. You moved into the same building as Javi and Steve, after a brief visit to the states for Enrique’s funeral. You actually found a close friend in Steve’s wife Connie. But most of all the absence of your best friend had been hard on you.
You never actually told him how grateful you were for his help. And for coming to this country with you, just because you felt the need to change your life. You spend the nights crying yourself to sleep, feeling responsible for his death. If he hadn’t agreed to come down to Colombia with you, he would still be alive.
And you wouldn’t have to look into your daughters sad eyes when she remembered that Uncle Ric wouldn’t come around to cook her favourite meal. You never learned the secret on what exactly Enrique did with the mac & cheese that made her go absolutely nuts, and now you wouldn’t have a chance to.
Work had been one big mess ever since the fail at the brothel. And it took all willpower you had to not go around and tell everyone “I told you so”. You also had a new partner. Well, two. Steve and Javier insisted on you joining them. Not that you had a chance when you came back on Monday morning and your desk was standing a joined to theirs. You had spend the whole weekend crying when you weren’t around Eva and this had almost made you tear up again.
Javier had almost entirely stopped flirting with you, which was the biggest change. He had actually been nothing but nice and respectful and you were wondering what it was that made him like this. Not that you minded.
He made the effort to get to know you, asking little question here and there. Asking about Eva and what her hobbies were.
You were fascinated by this side of Javi you got to know now.
But somehow you missed the way he used to look at you.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Steve asked, as you were sitting over another file of leads going nowhere.
“We wanted to paint Eva’s room. She chose green. And I absolutely hate it,” you chuckled.
“How come you never told anyone you had a kid?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.
“No one ever asked,” You shrugged.
“People don’t really talk to me because I'm CIA and I'm a woman. And I don’t speak more than 10 words of Spanish.”
“Yikes, we really are assholes,” Steve shook his head and you laughed.
“Well… You’re not that bad. And you have a wife that bakes cake, so you’re on my good side,” you joked and Steve chuckled.
“But what is going on with Javier lately?”
“So you noticed it too? I kept asking him but he just shrugged it off.”
“Maybe he needs to get laid,” you shrugged and Steve grinned.
“You offering?” You heard Javier’s voice behind you and you glared at Steve who tried not to laugh. Turning in your seat you looked up at the man in question. He grinned down at you.
“What if I told you I'm a lesbian?”
“That would only make it hotter,” he winked. You turned in your seat looking at Steve. “Okay I think he’s back.” You chuckled.
“If you need any help, just say the word,” Steve said as you walked down the hallway. It was Friday and you had just come home. One of the perks of living together with Javi and Steve was that you could use one car to get to work.
“Will do, thanks!” You smiled.
“Help with what?” Javi asked, standing next to you. You were now occupying the apartment across from him.
“I want to paint Eva’s room tomorrow. And let’s just say it’s not my biggest talent. Enrique used to do things like that. He actually planned the whole thing,” you smiled sadly looking at the floor before you breathed in deeply and looked at Javi. He had a strange expression on his face.
“What about I’ll come help and you cook that thing you have been cooking last weekend?” he rubbed his moustache.
“You can come over for some food without working, Javi,” you said right away.
“You tell me that now? What is it you cooked there last week?”
“I’m trying to figure out how Enrique made his mac & cheese cause Eva loved it so much.” You said quietly. You could hear her laughter behind the door.
“Sorry. I… Fuck. I keep reminding you of his death,” Javier shook his head.
“You’ve been a big help. I mean it. And if you want to spend your Saturday painting my daughter's room, you are welcome to do it,” you shrugged. He smiled a little.
“Okay. See you tomorrow then.”
One thing you noticed since moving was that Javier was a night owl. Of course you knew about his reputation but you didn’t judge him. He was an attractive man. If you were him you would use that to your advantage too. When Eva was in bed, and you were sitting in yours, a glass of wine in hand as you continued to work on files it was more than once that you heard just how much of a night owl Javier was. Either his women were very good actors or he really knew what he was doing.
“Mommy?” You heard the sleepy voice of your daughter and looked up from your book. She was standing in your door, her hair a wild mess. You looked at the clock. Nearly 1 am.
“Bad dream?” You asked. You saw her nod.
“Come here,” you smiled.
She climbed under your covers, snuggling to your side as you closed your book, setting it down on the bedside table.
“Wanna talk about it?” you asked softly, stroking away her hair so you could look at her. She shook her head.
“Okay,” you kissed her head.
It was a couple minutes later, you thought she was already asleep when she mumbled.
“You are not gonna leave me too mommy, right?” she whispered.
You gulped, pulling her closer towards you.
“I’m never gonna leave you baby,” you promised, your heart breaking.
She nodded.
“I miss Uncle Ric,” she said. You fought the tears.
“I miss him too,” you whispered.
You didn’t know how long you laid in bed, watching your daughter fall asleep. You had questioned coming to Colombia from the beginning.
You had been looking to change jobs for a while, and the job in Colombia was the only job the CIA had offered to various agents who had all declined it. Now that you were living here, you knew why.
It was beyond dangerous to take your daughter to this country. The CIA took your safety serious, which could have to do with how your late husbands death, which happened on a mission the CIA fucked up.
You could have asked the CIA for everything and they probably would have given it to you, just to keep you quiet. And maybe you should just have taken the money they offered you, buy a house on the beach, settle down with your daughter somewhere safe.
But there was always a little part of you brain that wanted to…. Avenge the death of your husband who had died because he found himself in the middle of a cartel deal gone wrong in Mexico.
You looked at your daughter, hoping that your selfish decision would not cost her more of her family in the future, before you let yourself finally drift of to sleep.
There was a knock on the door just as you finished washing the dishes from breakfast. Eva was wearing a bright blue kids overall you had bought while getting supplies to paint, running past you to the door before she stopped and turned around.
„Can I open Mommy?“ She asked.
„You gotta ask whose there first,“ you remind her and she nodded.
„WHO’S THERE?“ She yelled loudly through the door and you chuckled.
„Uh…. Javi?“ The man behind the door said, sounding it like a question. Eva looked at you and you nodded at her and she unlocked the door and opened it.
Javi looked at Eva then at you before he stepped into your apartment.
„Next time we need the codeword from you Javi,“ Eva said and he nodded seriously.
„What is the codeword?“
„Pancakes,“ she whispered loudly.
„Good morning,“ he said a little awkward. Eva threw the door closed behind him, before she ran back towards her room.
You shook your head amused.
„Good Morning Javi. Ready to spend time with a six year old girl who is obsessed with the jungle book?“ You asked, drying your hands, before you turned around to him.
He was wearing some older looking jeans and a white, very tight, T-Shirt.
„I have you know I have a lot of younger cousins. I think I can handle one girl,“ he said over confident and you nodded.
„We will see,“ you said, a smile playing around your lips before you nodded with your head towards your daughters bedroom.
You stopped counting after the tenth time Eva insisted on replaying The Bare Necessities. It was a surprisingly fun day.
You had to admit that you had underestimated Javier Peña.
You knew he was good at his job, but you didn’t know he was good with children. He explained every step he made to paint the walls to Eva and praised her when she began to paint herself. And he listened to every story your daughter told him. Never annoyed with her, always asking follow up questions.
And once she brought out her little recorder and played the jungle book tape you even noticed him humming along to the song, making you smile as you watched them both together.
They had both threw you out of her room so you could make dinner, leaving Javi and Eva to rearrange her room now that it was finished painting.
You could hear them laugh and you found yourself smiling to yourself. You missed the sound of her laughter ever since Enrique died.
You had put the Mac & cheese into the oven when Javier walked into your kitchen.
He had paint all over his arms, his shirt too. There was a smile on his lips and you found yourself smiling back.
„Enough Jungle book?“ You asked and he huffed a laugh.
„For now. She’s rearranging her stuffed animals on her bed,“ he said, leaning with his hip at the kitchen counter, watching you.
„Oh good. This will take her at least an hour. She’s a little perfectionist,“ you said.
„That’s… That’s good…“ Javi hummed and you frowned, turning towards him. He had a hand on his hip, his other hand pulling at his lip as he looked at you.
„Why?“ You asked.
He seemed… nervous. His eyes focused on you, seemingly fighting with himself about something.
„Javi…“ you started but he stepped towards you, one of his hands coming up to touch your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lips. Your breath hitched and you looked at him with wide eyes, your lips slightly parted.
You were nervous, but not in a bad way. It was more… anticipation of what would happen next.
„Can I kiss you?“ He asked. Instead of answering you nodded slowly, seeing him smile before he leaned in and kissed you softly. Your eyes slipped close and his lips found yours. You felt his other hand come to rest on the back of your head, and he slowly guided you so your back was against the counter as he slowly deepened the kiss. His tongue brushing over your lips until you parted them for him, sighing against his mouth. You rested one of your hands on his chest, your other hand in his hair as he moved his lips over yours.
He rested his forehead against yours as he parted form your lips, both of you panting for air.
„Wow,“ you whispered, opening your eyes. He was smiling at you.
„Yeah,“ he whispered, kissing you again.
You both jumped apart when you heard Eva call for you. You felt like a teenager who got caught doing something they shouldn’t be doing when you looked at Javi. You both chuckled at each other and you took a deep breath.
„I should check on her,“ you said. He nodded.
„Go. I’ll keep an eye on dinner,“ he said. You ran a hand through your hair, before you turned around, seeing Javi adjust himself out of the corner of your eyes.
Date Nights were not something you ever had before. Yes you went on dates when you were married, but there was never a big fuss about it.
Javier on the other hand, had taken you out every Friday night since you kissed. And it didn’t matter that you couldn’t openly date, not just because of work, but because the cartels had eyes everywhere, you were just happy to bet able to spend time with him outside of work.
Steve and Connie were happy to watch Eva for the evening, happy to have someone to play with their recently adopted daughter Olivia. You had been there in the house when Olivia was found. The scene still haunting your dreams.
Javier and you remained strictly professional at work. Of course there was talk about how Javier hadn’t been to a brothels in some time, but no one ever dared to ask, because he still got his intel from the girls.
You weren’t officially dating, but the both of you spend almost all your free time together. Things had become so domestic that even Eva seemed to realise things were changing. Not that you were hiding it from her. Javier had started to hang out at your place some more. Dinner for the three of you becoming a almost daily fixture whenever Javi was around and not working.
There were secret touches around Eva at the beginning until she caught Javier kissing you goodbye one night. She had a million questions for the both of you, and you had to give it to Javi, he answered every single one of them until Eva was satisfied, allowing him to date her mommy which you found beyond adorable.
You could never even entertain the thought of dating someone your daughter didn’t like.
That your daughter approved of this new man in your life made the change that was coming even harder.
Things in Colombia were getting more and more dangerous, leaving you to make the difficult decision to go back to the states. You had put in a request to get relocated which had been approved the week before.
You and Eva would be going back tomorrow leaving you to have to start over again. It had actually been Javier who had brought his concerns in the first place about you and your daughters safety up. You knew that coming to Colombia as a woman working for the CIA would put a target on your back. But the cruelty of the cartels and above all Pablo Escobar were at an all time high and to hard to ignore much longer.
So this Friday night would be your last date night with Javier for a while. He had taken you out to your favourite restaurant and held your hand all night, proud to show you off now that the both of you did not have to hide anymore.
It was the first time he kissed you in a crowded room, unafraid of who was watching. Because he knew you would be safe and out of the country in less than 15 hours.
And while the two of you had kissed for the first time almost three months before, you did not have sex yet.
Something you meant to change tonight.
You unlocked the door to your apartment, inviting him in. He had helped you put your whole life in boxes, promising to oversee them being shipped off to your new home.
„You gonna tell me where you going yet?“ He asked as you made the both of you a drink. You bit your bottom lip as you turned around, handing him the glass.
He knew you were going to Texas, he just didn’t know where.
Javier took a sip while you took one too before you set the glass down on the kitchen table.
„Laredo,“ you said and his eyes widened.
„I’m transferring to the DEA in Laredo, Texas,“ you added, waiting for his reaction. You never really talked about the future. But Javier was a man you could see yourself growing old with. You knew he had his own demons, thinking he did not deserve to be loved.
He had told you that he wanted to work on himself once he was finished with Colombia.
„Say that again,“ he asked you. He was looking at you with warm eyes, a smile forming on his lips.
„Eva and me will be moving to Laredo, Texas,“ you said, smiling yourself.
„Where?“ He asked.
„I found a house. But it needs some work. So I talked to your Dad the last time he called to ask for some help to find a contractor and he offered us his guest room,“ you said shyly. Javi laughed, shaking his head in disbelief.
He sat the glass down and walked to you, his hands crossing on your lower back, his chest against yours.
„You did this all behind my back?“ He asked. You nodded.
„Surprise?“ You asked and he kissed you.
„You gonna be on our farm?“
„Eva is already looking forward to learn how to ride a horse,“ you nodded.
„Fuck, she’s gonna have my Dad wrapped around her little finger in no time,“ he chuckled.
„Just like she has you?“ You asked and cried out in laughter as he dinged his fingers into your side, making you giggle.
„Rude,“ he said.
„But true,“ you shrugged and he kissed you again.
„I’m not complaining,“ he mumbled against your lips. You sighed as his lips slowly kissed down your jaw and then your neck.
„Javi,“ you gasped and he hummed against your skin.
„Please take me to bed,“ you whispered and he looked up at you.
„Are you asking me…“
„Yeah…“ you nodded, both of your hands resting against his chest. He took a deep breath.
„I need words,“ he clarified and you got on your tiptoes.
„I wanna have sex with you Javier,“ you whispered against his ear.
He took his time undressing you, once you made it to your bedroom. His lips following a path of every inch of skin he revealed. When you were standing in just your underwear in front of him before he kissed you, mumbling against your lips how beautiful you were, before he helped you strip him off his clothes.
You gulped when you saw his cock for the first time, not really surprised at the lack of underwear on his side. Biting your lip you looked up at him, seeing him wink at you before he kissed you again.
He laid you down on your bed, his lips never leaving yours.
You moaned when you felt his weight on top of you, his arms resting next to your head to keep him hovering above you. You felt him rub against you, his cock rubbing against your stomach, making you both groan.
He slowly kissed down your body.
Your neck.
Your collarbone.
Right between your breasts. He looked up at you then a question in his eyes. You arched your back and he smiled as he reached around and unhooked your bra, slowly pulling it down your shoulders until he could pull it off.
„Beautiful,“ he hummed, his lips kissing the top of each breast before he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered, your back arching again, your hands playing with his hair to keep him close.
He moaned against your skin, his tongue playing with your now hard nipple inside his mouth.
„Javi,“ you moaned softly and he released your nipple.
„Prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,“ he grinned and you felt yourself flush, giving him a shy smile.
„I wanna taste you,“ he said, kissing your other breast.
„Mhhh,“ you hummed.
His lips wandered down your body, his tongue dipping into your belly button with a grin before he kissed right above your panty line.
You released a shaky breath and he smiled at you.
„Can I take this off?“ He asked. You nodded, biting your lip. His fingers slipped under the fabric of your panties and he kneeled between your legs pulling them down. Both of his hand ran up your thigh as he leaned back down, his face resting just above your pussy.
„You’re so wet,“ he said in wonder and you smiled.
„Just for you.“
He hummed before his face lowered and his lips kissed just above your clit. He inhaled deeply, releasing a groan.
„Gonna miss this when you’re gone,“ he whispered and you sighed.
„Guess you have to come home to me quickly then,“ you said and he smiled as he looked up at you.
„I like the sound of that,“ he said.
„What?“ You asked.
„Coming home to you,“ he whispered before he licked into you. You grabbed the bedsheet beneath you as he began to eat you out, parting your legs even further. His big hands kept you in place while he devoured you. His tongue playing with your clit before it dipped down and into you.
„Javi please…“ you moaned.
„Please what?“ He asked.
„Make me cum?“ You begged and he chuckled.
„Already begging for me….“ He teased and you lightly kicked him in his side, making him chuckle before he leaned back in, eating you out until you were moaning his name, your legs shaking in his hold. He kissed your pussy after you calmed down and have you a proud grin and he leaned back above you, his lips finding yours to give you a deep kiss where you could taste yourself.
You angled one leg behind him, pushing him down against you.
„Fuck me, Javi. I want you inside of me,“ you mumbled against his lips.
„Fuck,“ he cursed. He grabbed his cock, lining himself up against your pussy.
You both moaned when he slowly sank into you. Inch by inch filling you smoothly until his whole cock was inside of you, filling you perfectly. His forehead came to rest against yours and you wiggled your hips, making him groan.
„Fuck…. Please give me a moment…“ he groaned and you smiled, pecking his lips. He kissed you slow but deep. Licking into your mouth.
You made out for a while before he slowly bottomed out and pushed back into you, keeping a slow pace.
„Feels fucking perfect, baby,“ he moaned against your lips, fucking you deeply.
You wrapped both of your legs around him, your hands on his back and in his hair.
„Shit I’m not gonna last, feels so good, he groaned and you felt one of his hands slip between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit.
„I want you to cum with me,“ he said and began to circle your clit while he fucked faster into you.
„Javi,“ you whimpered, arching your back. His head dipped down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. He pulled your nipple between his teeth, pulling it playfully and your whole body shuddered as your orgasm washed over you, whimpering beneath him just as he twitched and came deep inside of you.
You sighed, your fingers brushing through his hair as he kissed you, both of you smiling against each others lips.
You stayed like that for a while, just enjoying each others embrace before he slowly pulled out of you, pecking your lips. He went to the bathroom to clean himself off, bringing a washcloth to clean you too.
„I’m gonna get Eva from Steve and Connie’s,“ he mumbled against your lips and you nodded dreamily at him, watching him as he got dressed.
You got into your bathrobe and walked out of your bedroom just as Javi walked back into your apartment, a sleeping Eva in his arms.
Smiling at him you opened the door to her bedroom for him, watching him as he put her carefully into her bed. He had been doing this since the first date night, and it never ceased to amaze you just how perfect Javi fit into your life.
He kissed her forehead before he walked towards you, taking your hand to lead you back into your bedroom.
You knew you had to sleep but as you watched Javi strip out of his clothes and get into bed with you you were overcome with a sadness, knowing that his was the last time you would see him for a while.
You laid in bed, facing each other.
„I love you,“ you whispered, wanting him to hear the words before you leave.
He gave you a soft smile before he slipped closer towards you, his nose brushing over yours.
„I love you too,“ he whispered back and kissed you.
Both of you finding close to no sleep until it was time to get ready to leave for the airport the next morning.
„Bye Javi,“ Eva sobbed as Javi held her in his arms the next morning. She was clinging to him like a koala, clutching his shirt in her tiny fists. He was still holding your hand.
Javi had gotten breakfast while you got Eva ready before he drove you both to the airport.
You saw him take a shaky breath, kissing her hair.
„I’m gonna miss you,“ she mumbled and you felt tears stinging in the corner of your eyes.
„I’m gonna miss you and your mom too. So much,“ Javi whispered, pulling you closer. He let go of your hand to put his arm around you, pulling you into the hug.
„You have to fight the bad guys. And then you can come live with us all the time,“ Eva mumbled and Javi looked at you. You gave him a watery smile.
„I’ll do my best. Be good for your mommy,“ he said and you saw her nod, before he slowly let her down. She hugged your side and you wrapped your arm around her.
„Be safe,“ you whispered looking up at him.
„I will,“ he promised before he kissed you softly.
„I love you,“ you said and he smiled, a tear now running down his cheek.
„I love you, too,“ he kissed you again.
#my fic#javier peña#Javier Peña x fem reader#Pedro pascal#narcos fanfiction#narcos#fanfiction#fanfic#fan fiction
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day five - sweat
pairing: javier peña x f!reader
word count: 614
warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; sweat, cowgirl, spanking (briefly), unprotected p in v, creampie
• kinktober 2023 masterlist •
She hated the Colombian heat. Worse than the weather back home in Texas, sweltering and suffocating. Drenching everyone in sweat.
Maybe that was a part she enjoyed though, the sweat. Thinking about Javier, how sweaty and nice he looked coming home from work, especially after he had been hunting someone. The front of his shirt darkened by it, beads forming on his tan skin, his dark hair sticking to his forehead.
He looked more than hot like this, and he smelled amazing, too.
Tracing her tongue over his exposed neck, straddling his waist where he laid on the bed, tasting the saltiness of him, humming at it.
“You taste so fucking good, Javi baby.” She moaned, working the buttons of his pink shirt open, drenched in his sweat. “Can chase the bad guys more often.”
He chuckled, his thick fingers moving to unbuckle her belt, then popping open the button of her jeans.
“I’m happy you’re getting something out of this, bebesita.” His fingers dipped below the hem of her shirt, feeling her hot skin, the movement of her stomach as she breathed, excited to have him. “My back fucking hurts.”
Her eager tongue dipped lower, over his bare chest, teasing his nipples briefly with a small giggle. She couldn’t get enough of him like this.
“That’s why you’re on your back today, baby.”
Dripping wet just from this, her clit throbbing in excitement as she undressed him, tugging his pants down his legs, his underwear following quickly.
Javier helped her out of her pants, throwing them to the side as his calloused hands roamed over her beautiful thighs, her pussy hovering over where he needed her most. Already aching for her, groaning when her tongue went back to lapping up his sweat, her body lowering down, rubbing over the length of his cock as if to tease him.
She looked fucking beautiful like this, just as sweaty as he was, skin flushed red.
“C’mon, bebesita, know you wanna ride it.” His voice was gravelly, trying to sound composed while he watched the head of his cock appear and disappear between her wet folds as she rocked back and forth. “Stop teasing me.”
She smirked, raising her hips and reaching between them to grab his thick cock, guiding him to her aching hole. Slowly she sank down onto him, letting him fill her until he was buried inside of her entirely.
Leaning forward to kiss him, tongue licking into his mouth as she began to move on top of him, her hands gliding over his sweaty chest. She couldn’t go long before her mouth attached to his neck again, though, the salty taste only helping in building that pressure inside her abdomen, getting her closer.
“Love you all sweaty.” She moaned, moving her hips faster, his hands helping her. “So fucking hot like this, Javi.”
He lost himself in her quickly, grunting and groaning as he bounced on him, feeling sweatier by the second.
“My dirty girl.” Javier rasped, raising his hands briefly just to give her ass a soft smack, feeling her tighten around him, her hips erratic as she came suddenly.
Teeth sinking into his skin with a high-pitched moan, feeling him spill inside of her shortly after, unable to resist her tight pussy any longer.
She collapsed against him, a breathy laugh leaving her, loving the feel of his skin against hers.
“I’d say we should shower but…” Looking up at him, she brushed some hair from his forehead, licking her fingers after while he watched. “...you’re too delicious like this.”
In a way, she really did like the Colombian heat. As long as it let her enjoy Javier like this.
#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier pena narcos#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#javier peña fic#narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#kinktober 2023#my writing
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can you write actress!reader and their daughter visiting pedro on set or pedro coming back home and surprising his daughter after being away filming please
i just love dad!pedro fluff
Warnings: surprisingly a touch of angst but really just a pinch I promise
“Hi,” you smiled, greeting Craig “Thank you for doing this”
“Of course” he reassured you “he talks about you all the time anyways, and… this way he’ll probably want to get scenes right, right away so it’s a win-win” he joked, making you chuckle.
Suddenly, you felt a tug at your hand.
“Sweetie, say hi”
Your daughter looked up at Craig, her dad’s big brown eyes cute as ever.
“Hi,” she waved, or at least tried to, wave at him.
“Hi there honey, you’re bigger each time I see you”
“‘S not true, I’m always the same,” she said between giggles
“Oh no you’re growing my friend,” he said, crouching down to her level “Next thing I know you’ll be taller than me”
“But that’s impossible“ she laughed
“We’ll see” Craig teased, getting back up to you.
“We should go”
__ __ __
"Heard that sweetie? we have to be real quiet now" You whispered as Craig led you onto the set
"Can you do that?"
She nodded, and you couldn't help but smile to yourself, she would have never been this obedient if not for what she knew was about to come.
"Here" Craig murmured as he closed a heavy white door behind you "We should almost be done with the scene"
You followed him until he stopped right in front of a little screen that showed what the camera was filming.
The scene had already started, and it followed Pedro as he walked around a makeshift apartment.
He had sent you pictures of him in character before, but seeing him in real life was much different.
They had made streaks of his hair and beard white, and he was wearing a black and green flannel that looked approximately a hundred years old.
You liked this rough look, he didn't believe you when you first told him, but seeing him now only made you more sure. He looked hot, and you made a mental note to tell him later.
Your daughter's hand was still gripping yours, but her eyes were wide with amazement as she watched her own daddy at work.
She had been down the whole day. It was a beautiful sunny Saturday and no matter what you tried to do with her, read her her favorite stories, bring her to the park, make the swing fly real high like she begged you do to each time... nothing worked, and only once you set her down to talk, she had confessed what was wrong all along.
She missed her dad.
You already had half a mind that's what it was, but you weren't sure, and when she finally told you, you felt your chest warm a bit.
Of course she did, just as you did,
Pedro had been really busy with this project, and he tried to be home as much as possible, God knows how much it pained him too, but today was Saturday, and he usually never worked on weekends, and as much as your daughter was used to not seeing much of him during the week, they used to spend every waking moment together on Saturdays and Sundays, and she didn't like the change of routine, not one bit.
The recalling of your morning was suddenly interrupted by a loud "Cut!"
The silence that filled the air before was gone in a second, as seemingly everyone rushed on set.
"You wanna go again?" Pedro asked who you assumed was the director.
"no we got it, it was perfect"
"great" Pedro smiled, starting to walk off the set, but the moment he did, something caught his attention.
"Daddy!"
You glanced beneath you, and to your amusement, your daughter wasn't there, instead, she was running towards your husband.
“What?" Pedro's eyes widened, but he wasted no time crouching down to catch her as she ran right into his arms "Peach?" he asked, hugging her tight while standing up.
"Hi" you smiled walking up to them
"Sweetheart!? what is happening?" he said, beaming
You shrugged, caging a grin between your teeth "We missed you"
And at that, he had to pause, his glimmering eyes glancing between the two loves of his life.
"I missed you so much Daddy!" your daughter joined, her pigtails hitting Pedro's cheek as she hid her face between his shoulder and neck.
"I missed you too angel" he promised, stroking her back and kissing her hair "Missed you a lot" You took a step closer, taking his free hand in yours and placing a gentle kiss on his lips.
"hi," you repeated yourself in a quiet whisper
"Hi" he smiled, kissing you again
"Hey!" your daughter suddenly interrupted, making both of you chuckle.
"sorry baby" you excused yourself, leaning away "he's all yours"
She made a satisfied sound before her eyes started attentively examing Pedro's face.
"you look old" she stated, making you snort.
Pedro feigned a gasp, clearly stifling a smile "What did you just say to me?"
Your daughter giggled “you look old, daddy”
“I can’t believe this! You don’t see me for a day and already think I look old!?”
“Your hair is white!” she laughed pointing at them.
“I can't believe this!” he kept up his farce, obviously entertaining her “I’ve always looked like this! Since when do you not like my hair?”
“‘S not true” she shook her head, still chuckling ” This is not your hair”
“It sure is”
”No it's not, you have brown hair like me daddy!” She protested ”tell him mommy!” She called for your help, turning to you.
”You’re right baby” you reassured her
”See? Mommy says I’m right”
”Alright, alright, you caught me” Pedro smiled, giving up ” You’re too smart angel” he kissed her cheek, starting to walk towards some chairs off the set.
Your daughter stayed gripped around him like her life depended on it even as he sat down.
”so did you have fun today?” he asked, setting her on his knees.
“Me and Mommy went to the park”
“That’s nice” Pedro smiled, stroking her hair.
“I wanted you to be there” she suddenly pouted, and you saw the look in your husband’s eyes. You saw how much those words affected him, how much they pained him.
“I know” he said “I’m sorry”
“I’ll make it up to you sweetie”
“How?” she asked, with that sassy tone she had recently discovered.
“Tomorrow, we’ll do whatever you want”
“Anything?” her eyes sparked with mischief
“Anything, peach” he promised seconds before she nestled into his chest again, hugging him even tighter.
— — —
In just twenty minutes, your daughter's soft snores started making their way to your ears.
You smiled, watching her sleeping so peacefully on her daddy’s shoulder.
“You spoil her too much” you teased, your fingers gently playing with Pedro’s ones as you set beside him.
“How could I not, have you seen her?” He whispered, still petting her hair.
A familiar smile spread on your face, but before you could fully take it in, a small sigh fled your lips.
“She misses you, Pedro,” you said, your eyes finding his, and in them, a somber understanding.
He already knew. And it destroyed him every day.
“I miss you” you added with a small frown.
He turned his palm to hold your hand, a small gesture, a small -I’m here-
“I know” he spoke after a brief moment “I miss you too”
You nodded, a quiet understanding passing between you.
“I’ll never work on weekends again,” he said
“Pedro that’s not in your control” You shook your head
“I don’t care, I’ll stand my ground” he murmured, his thumb drawing patterns on your hand “I can’t go on like this sweetheart, I want to be there for you, for both of you, and I’m tired of not doing that, I’m tired of missing you all-day baby” he whispered, frustration tracing his words.
You rested your head on his shoulder, a small -I’m here- of your own.
“I know” you spoke, softly rutting your head against his shoulder “It’ll be alright, we’ll find a way”
“Thank you for doing this” he murmured, feeling like the luckiest man in the world sitting between you “I love you”
“I love you too baby” you smiled, leaning up to give him a quick kiss.
And immediately, even if still asleep, your daughter's small arms tightened around his neck possessively, a small “daddy” escaping her lips.
You chuckled, as Pedro absolutely melted at the image
“She’s such a daddy’s girl”
#i had to write this on my phone and I feel like I deserve an award for it#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#dad!pedro pascal#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal x y/n#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x fem reader#the last of us#joel miller#fluff#tlou#pedro pascal smut#the mandalorian#narcos#javier peña
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summary | a new place, a new job, and new problems arise soon thereafter. javier manages to weasle his way under your skin in more ways than one. the first—stealing your designated parking spot. (7.5k+ words)
pairing | javier pena x fem!reader
content warning | 18+ content, as always: no use of y/n, subtle pining/suffering on javi's part, very little reference to narcos plot (so, readable if you've never watched), strangers to enemies to...whatever this is, fingering/oral (f receiving), sex & subtle aftercare, open ended, using my very limited knowledge of spanish (pls feel free to correct me)
author's note | translations are spread throughout. this is my first dip into any character outside of my norm so this is mostly just for fun, but to anyone reading, enjoy!
You liked to think you were as level-headed as they came, always seeing the best in people, always giving them the benefit of the doubt, even here in a place that feels foreign, fresh off the job of a position you were hired to a few weeks ago. Not even a month yet and you were already on the precipice of your first problem.
A situation, perhaps.
You extensively remember paying for the specific parking spot correlating to your apartment number. It was simple, you paid for it, so by those laws, it was yours.
Yet somehow, there’s always a car parked in your space.
The first time isn’t a problem, opting to fill the blank spot next to it that is assigned specifically for visitors anyways. How could they have known?
It’s not a big deal. Until it happens again.
Same car, same color. That Jeep Cherokee was turning into your arch-nemesis, one more day of stealing your parking spot away from your keys digging into the paint of the driver’s side door.
Well, you weren’t that evil. But, you were definitely thinking about it. And maybe part of the problem was how unexpectedly stressful your job actually was, working alongside a bunch of macho, testosterone filled DEA agents with a severe lack of manners and time-management outside of catching the bad guys.
It always left you with a mountain of paperwork to deal with, not to mention that ridiculous errands and goose chases you were sent on for a file, or a can of fucking coffee beans because no one had the sense to replace them when they ran out.
And maybe if the car stood out more you would’ve clocked it earlier, but it doesn’t.
There comes a point where you can’t take the blatant disregard any longer, poised to catch the culprit in the act as you lean against the front hood of the car, jingling your apartment keys around your finger, rehearsing your supposed speech to scare off whoever owns the car.
But, that falls dead on your tongue the moment the owner descends the stairs, appearing from the same floor your own apartment resided on, eyes widening in disbelief.
It was a miracle you both had avoided each other this long.
“Javier?” You spit out, like a bad taste in your mouth.
Javier eyes you weirdly, still speaking calmly, “Hola, hermosa—I think. You live here?”
You nod slowly, wondering why he seemed so calm, so unbothered.
Ah, right. He wasn’t the one worrying about a parking spot, rather, he was the one stealing it.
“Yeah, por un par de semanas.” (for a couple of weeks)
Not that it mattered to Javier.
He laughs under his breath, fiddling with his own keys as he reaches for the handle. You push away from his car, standing steady on your own two feet, arms crossed over your chest and rubbing against the buttons of your blouse, still dressed up from work.
“You’re parking in my spot, Javier.”
Javier eyes the surrounding area, seeing nothing amiss.
“Where’s your car?” He asks, avoiding the accusation entirely.
“Right there,” You point at the car parked beside him, eyes narrowing at his lack of reaction, “beside my parking spot. You know, el que yo pago para.” (the one I pay for)
“Cariño,” and if there was a word that could make your blood boil quicker, it was that, the same condescending tone he always used, “I’ve had this spot for weeks.”
“But it’s mine now, Peña.”
“And mine sucks,” He admits, “this is the only shaded area around the building, it’s fuckin’ hot out, my car—“
“Isn’t my problem!”
He’s never heard you shout before, feeling the frustration radiating from your frame.
It was yours, rightfully so. But, that did change the fact he’s been parking there for weeks now, stubborn as he is. Javier isn’t budging either.
“What’s wrong with that one?” He asks, motioning toward your car beside his.
“I’m not paying for that one. I’m paying for this one.” It really is that simple, but you’re starting to think he had rocks for a brain, nothing rattling around up there besides catching Escobar and cheap sex he could catch on the regular with a bit of cash.
Yes, you knew—most of those men were one in the same, bachelors with a yearning to get off but not enough game to score it for free.
“No te soporto,” It’s a soft mumble under your breath, something meant for yourself, even if it was aimed at Javier, before looking at him, “fuck this, keep it.” (I cannot stand you)
Javier stares for a while, a moment too long in fact, his eyes lingering on the stretched fabric of your shirt, pulled tight over your chest where your arms cross, quickly traversing their way back up to your face, watching his entire trail of eyesight with annoyance.
“That’s it?” Javier definitely expected more of a fight, but you rolled over and keeled so fast he almost wishes you would’ve fought harder. He’s feeling gracious today though, so extends whatever metaphoric branch he had to give.
“You clearly don’t give a shit,” He’s leaning against the side of his car’s front hood now, diagonal to you as you take a few steps back, crossed arms moving until your hands met your hips, “but I’m the one running errands for you dumbasses all day, so we’ll see how long this lasts.”
In most cases that would come off as a death threat, but to you, it just meant smuggling sugar into his coffee instead of straight black like he usually enjoyed—just enough to fuck up his morning a little, throw him off kilter and enjoy the look on his face when it turns up in disgust, amongst other things.
“Eres malvada,” Javier comments amusingly, “are you trying to start a war?” (you are evil)
You shrug, “What’s one more to the one we’re already dealing with?”
You find it as a reason to get under his skin, drive him mad. But, Javier has a different reason in mind, luckily he loves a challenge—he wasn’t giving in that easily.
The office is sticky, the scolding, dry Bogotá heat feeling like you’re sitting in the center of a fire that ignited overnight—and the AC was out, meaning the tiny, measly little fan on your desk had to do.
Somehow, Javier seems unphased aside from the line of sweat on his forehead, shirt unbuttoned enough that you can see the start of his sternum, tanned skin hidden behind the baby blue fabric. His tie was laying on his desk beside his coffee—safe from you, for the time being.
Steve is close behind, not surprising, those two chasing each other’s tails like eager puppies. But, Murphy was sweeter than Pena, that much was clear.
He wasn’t holding your parking spot hostage.
“Hermosa,” Javier nods, tapping his fingertips against the patchy spot of wood on the front desk, “good morning, I hope?”
Not in the slightest.
Your eyes flick up wordlessly, stapling the stack of papers with more force than necessary before sliding it into his other hand, his fingers moving in time to catch the stack as it slides forward.
“Trouble in paradise?” Steve jokes, smiling as the words leave his mouth. “She looks like she’s ready to gut you.”
“She is,” It’s a confirmation that has Javier’s face turning up in annoyance, “can I do anything else for you? More paperwork, more coffee—“
“Actually—” Javier starts, but it falls on deaf ears.
“Good,” You turn away, picking up the large stack of files to head toward the filing closet, “ve a atrapar a tu el malo.” (go catch your bad guy)
His eyes linger as you walk away, Steve’s muffled voice coming into focus as you fade, rounding a corner as the click of your heels become softer.
“You managed to piss of the nicest person here,” Steve comments, whistling lowly, “I’m not gonna ask how you fucked that up, because it seems pretty obvious already—“
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javier asks, throwing his head over his shoulder as he looks at Steve.
“Either bad sex or you’re just being an asshole,” Steve suggests, wiggling two fingers out suggestively, pushing his index down to flip his partner off, “easily both but I’m guessing it’s probably the second one.”
Javier shoved his hand away, forcing the file into Steve’s chest.
“She wants me to give up a parking spot I’ve had since I got here,” He explains, “not happening.”
Steve squints slightly, eyes narrowing on Javier. There was more to the story, but Javier was conveniently leaving that out.
“I didn’t even know she lived there,” Javier adds, somehow trying to convince himself he’s in the right, “it’s a good fuckin’ spot.”
“Pissin’ her off for it?” Steve shakes his head in disapproval, “Can’t be that good, Javi.”
The week drags on, miserable in the heat and with working piling up by the day, it feels never-ending.
And somehow, Javier always manages to make it home before you, even when you both leave at the same time.
As frustrated as you are, things get a little easier when you start getting under Javier’s skin.
Steve bothers you for a cup of coffee one morning, insisting that you always make it better than him—it’s just a matter of overloading it with milk and sugar, knowing that Steve likes it sweet even when he doesn’t want to admit it.
Most of the men drank it black, out of solidarity or whatever—Javier just enjoyed the bitterness. How convenient.
So, his hesitancy when you hand him a cup is warranted.
“You fuck with it?” He asks suspiciously.
“Steve asked for a cup,” You shrugged, pressing it into his hesitant, waiting hand, “I’m just being nice.”
But, one sip from the cup ensures that you weren’t being nice at all as he quickly spits it back into the cup, much to the amusement of you and Steve, who sips happily from his own mug.
“I lied.” You grin triumphantly, sliding his unfinished paperwork in front of him, “Nos vemos, vecino.” (see you, neighbor)
Steve chuckles under his breath, watching the interaction unfold. When you finally leave, Javier is staring at his desk, cup forgotten.
“Like I said,” Steve repeats, “can’t be that fuckin’ good.”
“Shut up,” Javier replies, chair screeching in protest as he stands, “who fucks with someone’s coffee?”
“A seriously pissed off neighbor, apparently.”
And if looks could kill, Steve would be dead.
*
And Javi thinks that the coffee incident would annoy him the most, but even more, it’s the blatant disregard of his presence on most instances, holding a complete conversation with Steve in his company, not a single greeting his way.
He still greets you every morning. All the same aside from his occasional switch up of endearment.
Cariño, Hermosa, Querida when he felt particularly snarky—but just as you hoped it would get under his skin, Vecina slices like a knife. You dared to use it first, but the tone of his is nothing but feigned fondness.
That and when he opts for your name instead, sickeningly sweet as it rolls off his tongue.
Either way, he notices your effort to ignore him.
Taking out the trash and running into him in the hallway? It’s like you walk right through him.
Running into him at that market down the road from your complex? He’s practically a stranger.
And work? It was harder to ignore him, but you did your damndest to make him feel less than.
It was working great, until it couldn’t.
It’s dark out by the time you see him again that day, covered by the orange of the streetlight overhead and kicking yourself as you stare at the contents under the hood, not having a single clue what you were looking at, what the problem was or what it could be.
“Staring at it won’t fix anything,” Javier startles you, nearly jumping out of your skin as he approaches, shoulder bumping against his chest at his close proximity ,“woah, easy, vecina. Just me.”
Somehow that was worse.
“Car trouble?” Javier asks.
“Among other things.” You snark back, but your voice doesn’t hold the venom you think it does. “Don’t tell me you know shit about how to fix this.”
“I don’t,” He admits with ease, “heading out?”
You sigh, deep and tired as you finally give up and close the hood, wiping your dirty hands on your jeans.
“Not anymore,” Javier takes a quick look at your outfit, jeans and a low-cut top that shows off the curve of your breasts, soft skin of your chest and a small amount of your midsection where your shirt pulls up as you shrug your shoulders, “what, Peña? What’s that look for?”
Javier shakes his head, rubbing his thumb along the tide of a spare key, “I’m meeting Murphy for drinks.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling you this, but he is—well, he does know. He’s hoping you might tag along, put an end to this back and forth between each other. He didn’t want to be the first to cave, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him to see you despise his existence every day.
“Sounds miserable.” You comment, throwing a warm smile for good measure, it’s so fake that even Javi can’t help but feel a little more offended than usual. “Tell Steve I said hi.”
Javier doesn’t get the chance to ask if you want to join before you’re sulking away, riddled with yet another inconvenience.
Javier catches you in the same position the next morning, dressed for work and shoulders slumped as you stare down blankly at the engine.
“Get in,” He orders, walking beyond your piece of junk and to his car, one hand resting on the hood, other resting on the door handle until you finally acknowledge him, “I can drive you to work.”
“Vete a la mierda,” You groan, “I don’t want your help.” (fuck off)
Javier doesn’t budge, yellow sunglasses perched on his nose, his thumb tapping against the car, “Get in the car.”
And he’s not against standing here until you were both late, but he’s already on the edge of getting his ass chewed out most of the time and he’s done with this—it, whatever game you two were still playing at.
“Think about it,” Javier jokes, “it’s almost like you’ll finally be putting that spot to good use.”
Okay, that might’ve been too much.
“Look, I’ll give you the fuckin’ spot if you stop looking at me like they and get in the damn car,” Not that it mattered now, with that hunk of metal sitting unmoving and useless beside it, "please?”
Javier’s not the type to beg, but the look on your face is soft, resembling defeat, and he wants to help.
*
“Why didn’t you just bring it up with management?” Javier asked, fist tightening around the wheel as he pulled to a stop. "If it bothers you that much."
“You mean Theresa?” You laugh to yourself, eyebrows furrowing in amusement as you cross your arms over your chest, “She’s pushing 80–don’t tell me she could actually intimidate you.”
Javier shrugs, “She’s got her moments.”
“Messing with you was more fun,” You shrug decidedly, “but it lost its momentum when you stopped being bothered by it.”
“So?”
“I’m stuck with a shitty parking spot, an even shittier neighbor, and now my car doesn’t work, so.”
The silence spoke for itself.
“I don’t mind driving you.”
“You’re missing the point,” He was just as dense as he was attractive and you hated it, “the least you could do is fuckin’ pay me.”
Javier gives you a wild look behind his shades, Jeep lurching forward as he continues the drive.
“For the spot, Javier. If you want it that bad.”
“Oh,” He nods, “Yeah, I can do that.”
That was…easier than you anticipated.
Things improve slightly after that, still giving Javier the cold shoulder on most instances, born out of your own stubbornness.
But he always greets you with a smile, one that you try to return. Plus, you were in better spirits today now that the building had working air and it wasn’t absolutely miserable trying to get work done.
“Here,” Javi pulls you from the chart on your desk, eyes connecting with the small wad of cash, “for what I owe you and then some.”
And you shouldn’t feel guilty taking the money, but you do.
He lowers his voice slightly as you pocket the cash, palms pressed against your desk as he leans in, “I need a favor.”
You sigh through your nose, threading your fingers together and resting them between his outstretched arms, challenging him with a steely look in your eyes.
He slides a small wad of paper he had hidden in his palm toward your hands, “I need those files, can you get them for me?”
You glance at the list of names, looking up at him incredulously, his face not moving an inch. It seemed serious, but it still didn’t justify the fact that he’s absolutely lost his mind.
“I could get fired for taking these out of the building,” You argue in a hushed whisper, “first you want to take my spot and now you want me to risk my job?”
His eyes soften slightly.
And then there’s that word again.
“Cariño, please?”
“How badly do you need them?”
He gives you another silent look of pleading, the tip of his tongue licking at the corner of his mouth as he nods to Murphy several feet away, looking just as desperate. If it wasn’t for Steve, you probably would’ve said no.
“You’re lucky I like Steve,” You admit, shoving the paper into the same pocket the money was stashed away in, “and that you’re down the hall from me.”
His fingers wrap around your wrist firmly when your arm resurfaces, posture instantly stiffening at that movement. His eyes are wide, staring through you almost.
“Thank you.”
And you can see that he means it.
It’s a strange look you haven’t seen before but it’s real.
“You owe me, Javi,” Under the context of what, you weren’t sure, “I mean it.”
The softness you add to his name is enough for Javier to realize that whatever anger you held toward him was slowly disappearing.
*
The last thing you’re expecting when you exit the sanctioned filing room is a solid chest to the face, and a surprisingly soft hand gripping your shoulder to steady you.
“Hey, Javi sent me,” Steve says lowly, glancing around the corner to check for an all clear—the place was mostly deserted due to the unexpected raid Javier was leading on a few of Escobar’s men, nothing huge, but enough to need backup, yet somehow Steve got shafted, “he’s caught up in something and my place is on the way.”
“Is he okay?” It feels foreign to ask, but given he’s also in a slightly disturbed state, breathing faster than normal like he’d ran here.
“Yeah, yeah. Peña’s always good. Don’t worry about him.”
“And you?” You inquire, sliding the files behind your bag, keeping them out of view, “Why aren’t you with him? I thought you two were partners.”
“My wife, she’s had this date planned out for weeks,” Steve nods toward the front, asking for you to follow, “Connie, she’d skin me alive if I tried to cancel on her, again.”
“Sounds justified.” You shrug, flashing him a polite smile.
Steve nods knowingly.
“And about Peña—he’s difficult, I know.”
“Understatement of the year, Steve.”
“I’m just trying to say that he’s really involved and sometimes that stress kinda…transfers over outside of work.”
And somehow you find yourself at a stand-off with Steve, talking through the open windows of his car.
“So he’s an asshole, but it’s okay because work is a little hard on him?”
“That’s not what I’m sayin’,” Steve scratches at his forehead in search of the right words, hoping they’ll come to him, “I don’t even know why I’m trying to defend him but he’s surrounded by this shit all day, some of us can leave it here—it’s hard even for me some days—“
“Steve,” You bring him back, urging him toward the point, “is this going somewhere?”
“Javi is this job— but you are the one thing I catch him staring at beside our desk and the gun in his drawer. I don’t know, maybe he really does hate you that much, but I’ve known him long enough to realize that if he’s gonna let anyone’s fuck with his day to day, and his coffee, it would be you.”
“If you’re trying to suggest Javi’s in love with me, I’m going to assume you’re insane.”
“No—god, no. I don’t think Peña’s capable of that shit but maybe he’d ease up on being a hard-ass if you didn’t give him as much shit over the parking spot. Also, not sayin’ he’s in the right but is it really that important to you?”
You sling your bag into the passenger seat, following suit as Steve climbed into the car, “At first, yeah. It’s my first time out on my own, dealing with my own shit, and Javi already acts like he’s above it all so seeing that it was him, it set me off.”
Steve shrugs, turning on the ignition. “I think you two have too much in common, honestly. Maybe just…level with him? Have you two ever had a normal conversation outside of work?”
A subtle shake of your head is all Steve needs, then he’s laughing to himself, pulling out of the parking lot.
“What?”
“It’s nothing—“
“Steve.”
“It’s just—I assumed you two hooked up and Javi was a bad time because you went from mildly annoyed to out for blood overnight.”
“Doesn’t seem that far-fetched.” You admit, earning an even deeper chuckle out of Steve.
“See?” Steve boasts, “Don’t give him the time if you don’t think he deserves it, but I’m tired of him sulking around all the time. It’s miserable to look at.”
“And you think I can fix that?”
“Oh, I know it.”
Two hours and a shower later and you find yourself at Javier’s door wondering if it was already too late to try and knock or if you should just stuff the files underneath his door and leave, ignoring that fluttering feeling in your gut that told you to stay.
But, he’s yanking the door open before you can lift your hand, wondering if he heard you on the other side. He’s half dressed, jeans buttoned around his hips but his chest bare, towel hung over his frame signaling that he, also, had just finished up a shower.
The circles under his eyes were a little darker, the color in his eyes a little dull, and his knuckles looked bruised—whatever he’d been pummeling and knocking away at must’ve packed a punch.
“Hermosa, hey.”
Yet somehow he seems relaxed at the sight of you and you offer him the first real smile he’s seen since you met.
“Uh, got the files.” You force them out of your hands and into his, feeling like if you held onto them any longer they would burst into flames. You weren’t sure of the validity or importance of them, but you didn’t want to hold the responsibility any longer. “Everything…okay? Steve said—“
“Yeah. Bad info.” Javier says simply, “Doesn’t really matter.”
You nod slowly, fidgeting with your fingers behind your back, “You know,” and here was your attempt, “when Steve pulled up I joked about how this has to be the first time I’ve seen that parking spot empty since I’ve been here. Too bad my car is a piece of shit and I couldn’t even move it to take it back.”
Javier opens his door wider, bare feet sticking wetly against the wood floor as he moves. He clears his throat, a small chuckle that feels like a giant victory. But, he seems eager—no, antsy, ready to flee.
“Shit, you were going out, weren’t you?” He notices the quick glance you give to his frame, never lingering for too long on one spot. “Bebidas, chicas—that’s how you guys usually celebrate, right?” (drinks, girls)
“Nothing to celebrate,” Javier replies nonchalantly, “they all went home, so.”
“Oh.”
Javier glances back inside his apartment briefly, wallet and keys resting on the countertop, shirt thrown over the barstool by the island.
You both speak at the same time, his head turning back when he hears your voice.
“Goodnight, Javi—“
“Did you want to come inside for a minute?”
You pause, watching his hard exterior melt further.
“Um, sure.”
Thus, the deafening click behind you as you step inside, watching as he tossed the files along the island, before disappearing briefly and returning without a towel, still also without a shirt.
He looks perplexed, glancing over the files briefly.
“Do I wanna know?” You ask curiously, stepping alongside him before wandering a little further, glancing around his space.
It was polished, covered in dark furniture and normal amenities, perfectly plain. It looked half lived in, blanket thrown over the couch and a pillow shoved up against one side. Yet the open door down the hall showed a perfectly made bed. You don’t pry, but Javier can feel the judgment from a mile away. He switches the subject before it arises.
“It’s just work. Do you want something to drink?” He asks casually, sifting through his fridge, “Tento agua, jugo, cerveza…” (I have water, juice, beer)
“Beer is fine.”
Javier slides the beer into your hand a moment later, “So, what did Steve tell you?”
“Huh?” You ask, startled by his straightforwardness.
“I mean how much did he tell you about the, uh—the raid?” Javier implores casually, taking a swig from the bottle.
“Oh, nothing really. I asked why he wasn’t there and he told me, but I didn’t try to pry.” You tell him honestly, “The less I know the better, right?”
“And here I am pulling you into that mess for the files,” He jokes, “thank you for that, cariño. Seriously.”
You leave out the extensive conversation you had with Steve about the man standing in front of you, and you hear the words haunting you, nagging at the back of your mind like a bad itch.
You take a long sip of the beer, half dried hair falling over your shoulders as you tip your head back. Javier watches with careful eyes, arms leaning against the island, files pushed further aside.
And suddenly, he seems normal.
In fairness, you’ve never seen him in this environment. His home, his safety, but it’s a juxtaposition to the man you see at work everyday, walking past you with a smirk glued to his face.
Maybe it was only ever really directed at you, but there was always that urge to knock him down a peg. But, not here.
Blame it on your softness, your willingness to want to see the best in people, and how Javier was somehow the end all, be all of gorgeous men in Bogota—he sees the switch too.
The first bad decision was taking the job at the DEA office.
The second? Letting Javier Pena get under your skin so easily.
And between you both, there were enough bad decisions to keep you talking for a week.
What was one more?
He says your name, a dangerous word to leave his mouth at a time like this.
“Javi.”
It’s a warning. An opportunity, his last chance to back away before you both did something stupid. He trashes his empty bottle as he makes his way to you, slipping your own from your grip and onto the nearest flat surface, some mantle or shelf, Javier isn’t sure.
“Do you still hate me?”
It feels like the most ridiculous question to ask, but he needs to hear the answer. Because if you did, he’d back off immediately, walk you back to your apartment, and apologize for ruining your life more than he already had.
But, the other part is praying, hoping that you don’t.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you always know it was me?” He asks softly.
You huff out a short laugh, “What?”
“The car—I mean, I drove it everyday. I wasn’t trying to hide it.”
Your eyes narrow slightly, letting him invade your space, a hand ghosting over your hip, under your shirt carefully, fingertips dancing along your hip.
“You’re not the only guy up there who drives that car, Javi—how was I supposed to know? Are you saying you were doing it purposefully, hoping it bothered me?”
“No,” Javier answers honestly, “but it’s a little fascinating to see you so angry.”
“You should probably elaborate on that unless you feel like seeing it up-close.” You tell him out of pure annoyance, perturbed by the game he was playing.
If he wanted to fuck you, he should just say it.
“You smile all day at those guys, even when they make comments about you in front of your face.” And you’ll hand it to Javier, he’s never been that disrespectful. He appreciates women, and he can be severely pissed off with one, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to trash her in front of anyone else, especially not in front of her. “But, I see it—that little scrunch in between your eyes when they piss you off.”
“It’s my job to be friendly.”
Javier watches the expressive lines between your brow start to form.
Javier shifts you slightly, back pressed to his bare chest as his fingertips settle against your skin, just under the ends of your shirt, and despite the ongoing conversation you can’t help but melt against him.
“I saw it that day when you were standing by my car,” Javier continues, “es linda.” (it's cute)
“Javier,” It's a sigh of discontent, of impatience, and he feels the twitch in your body as you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, feeling like you were seeing him as a completely different person, yet still somehow the same, “we really don’t have to drag this out.”
He hums softly, pressing a slow kiss against the side of your neck, the soft thrum of your heartbeat against his lips as he stays there, lingers.
“I’m not mad anymore , I’m not upset,” It feels like rambling, but you needed to clear the air, “Just—fuck, I can’t do slow, Javi.”
Slow meant more time to overthink, to feel, and you didn’t want any of that.
“Looks like I didn’t need to leave after all,” Javier laughs against your skin, “tengo a mi chica aquí.” (I have my girl here)
And fuck if you weren’t eager to throw every rule and inhibitions out the window for him.
His bed is just as pristine and untouched as when you entered his apartment, his fingers digging into your thighs firmly, keeping you in place where you were spread out over his lap.
Javier’s thrown off kilter for a moment as you grip his chin, tasting the wide expanse of tanned skin, biting playfully at the sharp edge of his jawline, right by the spot under his ear that has him fighting to stay focus.
Game recognize game, Javier had really met his match.
“Gatita mala,” He tuts, the warmth of his palms spreading over your back, top bare as his thumbs eventually meet the underside of your breasts, rubbing gently until he sees you keen into the touch, “more?” (bad kitty)
You nod eagerly, his eyes never leaving you, not even as he leans forward, mouth at your breasts until he finally takes the leap and licks, nipple pebbling underneath his tongue, bottom lip dragging against the flesh until he can take you into his mouth fully.
The warmth spreads like a flood, twisting at your insides, begging for something more.
“Javi,” You release on a sigh, fingers drifting through the hair at the back of his head as he hums, a soft noise of acknowledgment, “I need you to fuck me.”
“You sure?” He murmurs, mouthing up the center of your chest, latching onto your neck gently before pulling away, his teeth grazing against your chin as he bites. “Tu quieres esto, bebita? (You want this, baby?)
“I don’t need you to be kind, Javier.” You tell him forthright, staring down at him through your lashes, his hands still rubbing a hot pattern into your skin, whatever remnants of your sleep shorts that were left already pushed high up your legs. “You weren’t trying this hard before.”
“What are you saying then?” He asks, following your lips as you pull back, eying you inquisitively as you find his gaze, pulling him in.
Your eyes darken under the light, the streetlight outside of his window flickering faintly, “We don’t need to act like we’re friends,” You explain, “we’re not.”
There’s a long, lingering moment of silence as your thumb rubs along his bottom lip, soothing the natural pout he always held.
“We want the same thing, right?” You ask softly, feeling his hands settle against your lower back, a soft nudge as he presses you against him, not enough contact to satisfy but it stalls you a moment, watching him calculate a response.
Everything he feels like he needs to say never comes, only a nod of confirmation, a clear switch in his eyes as you drag yourself down to his level, pushing him even further, deeper into the back of his couch.
“Good,” You speak to him, lips grazing against his own as you speak, “because getting those files was a pain in the ass and I deserve a lot more than a thank you.”
*
You soon realize that this version of Javier is hard to deny something when he works for it, pulling at the short strands of his hair as he descends down the couch, to the floor, leaving wet kisses along the way, feeling your body quiver as he reaches your inner thigh, face pinching together in conflicting frustration as you shake your head.
“Javi, you don’t need to,” You quickly assure him, yanking his head away gently, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares up at you, big brown eyes fixated on your face, “I’m not—“
“Humor me?” Javier counters, flashing you a tired smile, barely recognizable under this light.
You sigh heavily, mostly to release the tension of your anxiety-ridden nerves, gasping as his tongue meets your clit with no preamble.
It forces out a small laugh, involuntarily, his tongue lapping through your center before pressing a kiss against the inside of your thigh, fingers replacing his mouth for a beat.
“Tan dulce,” Javier comments absently, working you up easily, moving his fingers at an angle that even you couldn’t reach with your own hands, spine curving up as you pressed your palm out flat behind you, the grip in his hair tightening as he welcome the soft sounds you made, rubbing his thumb along your clit in a slow circle, “como el azúcar.” (So sweet, like sugar)
Your response is feeble, a throaty moan that has Javi’s cock straining against his jeans, reaching down to relieve the pressure as he unbuttons them.
“Why deny this?” He asks curiously, crazy enough to try and hold a coherent conversation with you while his face was buried in your cunt. “It’s the best part.”
He spreads you wider then, thick hands coming up to force your thighs over his shoulder, supporting the lower half of your body entirely as he devours, growling against your cunt.
The sound has you fluttering around his tongue and Javier feels it, bookmarking that for later.
“Fuck me,” You gasp out in a rush when you start to feel the edges of your orgasm creeping up on you, “god, Javi—“
But, there’s something unspoken there as he pulls away, the subtle shake of your legs, not wanting to feel selfish and even a little embarrassed for coming like this, so easy and quick under his touch. Be it experience but he knew what you needed even more than yourself, everywhere to touch, squeeze, linger for just the right amount of time.
“Look at me,” He demands, eyes flicking toward his without question as he slowly pushes a finger inside, filling the loss from earlier, thumb working against your clit until he feels it, “fuck, you like that?”
And as much as you wanted to deny it, he already knew the answer.
You nod quickly, body feeling feverish as your leaned your weight into your hands, steadily pressed behind you as your hips rock up involuntarily.
“That’s right, hermosa.” Javi encourages softly, almost like a purr as the crest of your orgasm rises, flushing over you in waves as you gasp, reaching your hand forward to dig your fingers into his forearm, silently begging him to slow down.
Eventually he does, pulling out gingerly but not before slipping the finger past his own lips, covered in the sweetness of you. He doesn’t make a big show of it, but it’s a small gesture that has your heart fluttering in your chest, a pain that aches deep. He does catch your gaze after a moment though, lazily explaining himself.
“What? I don’t lie.” He shrugs, thumb grazing against your bottom lip until you jerk your head away in frustration—coming here for nothing, but somehow twisting yourself up in the sheets on his couch, his solid figure tucked between your legs, and god, he’s not even wearing anything underneath his jeans. He rises up on his knees, denim hiding everything but the short patch of trimmed hair leading to his still, unfortunately clothed cock.
“Get on your knees.” He jerks his chin upwards and you’re moving without question, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as he moves behind you, shuffling around as he digs in a drawer beside his couch, shifting his jeans down until he can kick them the rest of the way, settling his hand over your hip in a comforting gesture, if anything, as he rips the foil packet with his teeth, pumping himself languidly.
He situates himself behind you, one knee pressed into the cushion while his other leg is planted against the floor, finding that once again, his hands couldn’t stop exploring your body, admiring every curve with us fingertips as he nudges you down and into the opposite cushion, palm pressed against the flat of your back as he lines himself up, pushing inside in one fluid motion, an audible groan breaking from his chest as he finally satiates his own desperate need for pleasure.
He enjoys sex this way, prefers it, fulfilling that need to take and consume and fill his partner with pleasure, tell that it was okay to give up control. It's what Javier enjoyed the most, controlling the situation. But, even as he enters you, he feels at a disadvantage.
“Bebita, talk to me.” Javier speaks up from behind you, his gruff, gravely voice cutting through the silence. “Let me hear you.”
You gasp on a sharp thrust of his hips, the wet sound of your slick as it coats him, feeling perfectly stretched by the size of his cock, grip tightening on the cushion in front of you as you feel his hand explore higher, squeezing at the back of your neck to force you deeper into the surface, head turned enough that you catch his expression for a brief moment.
He’s admiring you with a heated, half-lidded gaze as his eyes wander the expanse of your back, settling over the point where you two meet, watching as he sinks into you again and again. But, it’s the grit of his teeth that drives you insane, fucking you with a ferocity that carries so much more than just needing a release.
“Hablas demasiado, Javi.” You groan, feeling the soft pad of his thumb as it rubs at your jaw, earning a low chuckle in response. “You always talk this much with them?” (you talk too much)
He doesn’t need to pry to understand what you’re referring to—and he could act like it hurts his ego, and maybe it does, but he bites back at you just as quickly.
Your name graces his lips in a curse, a prayer, something akin to heavenly as he grips your hips tight, “You’re not them, bebita.”
It feels like a confession, but for your own sake, you ignore it, nodding blindly at his response.
“Fuck,” He growls, dragging a hand along your body until he settle it in the curve of your shoulder, pulling you back against him until you can’t stifle the sounds anymore, moaning out his name for the first time that night, “otra vez, let me hear it.” (again)
You gasp sharply at the sudden change in position, pulled tight to Javier’s chest in a similar position to earlier when you were standing in his kitchen, ultimately more intimate this way, with his mouthing at the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by his hand, his arm slipping under yours and around the flesh to keep you in place while his mouth sucks at the skin on the opposite side, his name falling from your lips freely as he brings you to a second orgasm with no preamble, a quiet sound leaving you as the high is a little less intense, his fingers rubbing against the small bundle of nerves until you’re begging him to let up.
His breathing is short, hurried as his own orgasm is right there, free arm wrapping around your waist as he hugs you against him, mouthing at whatever parts of you he could reach.
“Gonna cum, bebita,” He warns, tracing a soft line under your breast with his finger until he’s squeezing the mound of it in his hand, “right here, can I?”
If you weren’t so drunk on your own pleasure you would’ve questioned it, but even then you weren’t sure you could deny him. You nod jerkily, feeling him unwind himself from you and guide you around with a steady hand, tapping at your side until he’s got you where he needs, kneeling a little lower, head lolling into his outstretched hand as he supports the weight, rubbing at the soft, tender spot behind your ear as he strokes himself quickly, head thrown back as he comes, moaning brokenly as the feeling overtakes him, spilling carefully onto your chest, your own eyes threaten to shut out of exhaustion but not daring to deny yourself the sight of him, neck outstretched and straining, veins protruding on the side as he swallows hard, gasping as he finally comes back down.
He feels you move to stand but urges you back down, “Stay,” He tells you softly, “I'll be back.”
And he’s not gone more than a few moments before he’s returning with a small towel, wearing a pair of sleep pants he must’ve grabbed from his room first, taking long strides to meet you as he cleans up the mess quietly, his face a little perplexed as he does so, watching as you move to grab your discarding clothing in the process.
“Any chance this convinced you to give me my spot now?” You joke lightly, catching the grin that spreads across Javi’s face, unconstrained.
“You wish, cariño.”
The silence settles as you redress yourself, mindful of Javier’s heavy gaze as he ascends back toward the work in his kitchen, giving you the space you needed.
“Same time mañana?” Javier asks suddenly, gaze landing on you as he scratches at his cheek, examining a paper within the stack of folders. (tomorrow?)
And you’re mentally cursing yourself for the small moment of hesitation you have in answering before Javier’s grin is growing again, releasing a short laugh in amusement at your obvious confusion.
“I meant for work,” He clarifies, “do you need a ride?”
“Oh—yeah,” You shrug indifferently, “I guess.”
The stare that Javier holds is mesmerizing, the type that freezes you in place and holds you hostage.
“Good,” He nods, “—but you know the other offer still stands if you want to.”
“Goodnight, Javi.” You reply with an eye roll, an empty response that holds no hatred.
Javier steps forward in your path, a subtle smirk on his face as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, a gesture that comforts you more than you’re expecting.
“Goodnight, gatita.”
Gatita = kitten
Cariño, Hermosa = both mostly terms of endearment (ie. beautiful, sweetheart)
Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡
#javier pena x reader#javier pena smut#javier pena#javier pena x you#javier pena x y/n#pedro pascal characters#javier pena fic#narcos x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#my writing#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal x you
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Sharing Is Caring 🌶️🌶️ { Mafia!AU Joel Miller x Reader x Javier Peña }
{{ Several people asked what would happen if mafia enforcer Joel and corrupt agent Javi existed in the same universe. Then several others suggested the reader should be in a sandwich between them. I’m personally inclined to agree. This is the result. There’s no plot; it’s just smut. }}
CW: 18+ only / smut / language / age gap / degrading talk / unsafe sex / oral sex (m!receiving) / threesome / proceed at own caution?
This fic is for @joelsgirl xoxo
——
You’re more than aware that you’re in a dangerous position. Both these men could kill you, think nothing of it, and bury you in a shallow grave somewhere. Hell, nobody would even bother looking. Except maybe the other.
You had never meant to become caught between two men who had more than enough hate and rivalry between them already. Two opposing sides of one coin; a corrupt DEA agent, and the right hand man of the local mafia.
And then there’s you. You serve drinks at a club they both frequent. Dance when you feel like it. Flirt with whoever catches your eye. In this instance, it’s gotten you in a whole load of trouble, with two dangerous men who don’t want to share you.
Too bad, because you’re not entirely sure you want to choose between them.
You were Joel’s first, one of his girls, his favourite. Then Javi got to you, fully intending on interrogating you for information about Joel’s criminal dealings. Only to end up fucking you senseless on the floor instead.
They don’t play fair, and their hate for each other is clear as day, but where you’re concerned? They’re willing to compromise.
It’s intoxicating, knowing you have so much sway over two men who could destroy you without blinking. You don’t take advantage of it, toeing a fine line to keep yourself safe, but you refuse to choose a side.
Which has led you to this situation, pinned between two men who hate each other, who at any other moment would be pointing weapons and trading insults. Brought to a stalemate by their mutual need for you.
You can’t ever say you don’t have power in this life.
The resemblance between them, physically, is startling. They could be brothers, even if Joel is older. Both attractive as hell. Both dangerous. Both fucking incredible in bed.
Joel’s mouth trails kisses down your bare throat, finding a spot he likes before he bites down, sucks a mark into sensitive skin.
“Possessive, much, Miller?” Javi almost drawls it, his accent thicker than usual as he watches, his fingers tracing circles on your hips. He can’t talk; he can’t keep his hands off you, grinding his still clothed cock against your bare ass.
How is it that you’re completely naked and neither of them have taken off anything more than their coats? You suppose it’s only fair that they at least manage to conspire against you for something.
“Reminding her of her place.” Joel doesn’t even bother looking at the other man, licks the mark he’s just left on you.
“Pretty sure she knows her place.” Javi lays a light slap to your ass. “It’s right where she wants to be.”
Of the pair, he’s the least likely to underestimate you. Has a feeling you’re in this situation because you want to be, that in spite of everything, you’re the one in control here.
Joel hates that he agrees with his rival, makes a somewhat grouchy noise of agreement, gives a noncommittal jerk of the head.
“If by that you mean on her knees or on her back with one of our cocks in her, I’m unfortunately inclined to agree.”
You love how they talk about you, like you’re not there. Like you’re just an object for their pleasure. Even more delicious is the way you’re literally pressed between them, Javi grinding against your ass, Joel against your cunt, neither of them trying to disguise how much they want you.
“Definitely.” Javi wraps his hand around your hair, makes a fist in it, turns your head so he can kiss you. It’s not a sweet kiss, not really, more rough and needy and possessive. Like he’s proving a point.
Maybe he is, but Joel doesn’t comment. He knows this alliance is only temporary, doesn’t want to tread on Javi’s toes too heavily. The agreement formed, the bribes and the information passed between them, is as delicate as a house of cards, and you’re the foundation.
Doesn’t mean it doesn’t piss him off, just a little, to see the way you lean into the agent, lips parted, moaning into his mouth. He doesn’t like seeing you so fucking needy for anyone else, even though he’s never officially decided you’re his.
He shouldn’t fucking have to. Everyone else gives you a wide berth, knowing he’s about two steps behind you, possessive and silent as a shadow. Apparently that menacing act doesn’t apply to Javi, doesn’t stop him from throwing down a challenge.
You know you should - theoretically - make a decision, but you’re selfish, and why not admit it? They’re both dangerous, sexy, and you love that they fight over you.
Joel’s rough, scarred hand cups your bare cunt, sliding two thick fingers into you. He’s not playing fair, but it’s immensely fucking satisfying to know that this time, when you moan into Javi’s mouth, it’s because of him.
The latter lets you go, and you get about twenty seconds to breathe before it’s Joel who drags you in, tongue sliding into your mouth and licking against yours in rhythm with his fingers inside you. He can feel you dripping down his knuckles, feel how eager and needy you are, not just for him, but for both of them.
“Such a good, obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Joel removes his fingers from you, turns your body so your back is to his chest. “You’re going to be a good girl and suck his cock now.”
If it wasn’t such a damn good idea, one that benefits him, Javi might have had a dig at Joel for calling the shots, but, well… you’ve got such soft, warm little hands, so eager as you look at him with big doe eyes as you unzip his jeans, pull his hard cock out and stroke it gently.
He hadn’t been so sure about getting you on your knees on a bed between the two of them, but well…
“You just want her pussy first.” He says it anyway, rolling his eyes at Joel.
You bat your eyes at Javi as you settle into a comfortable position, on your knees, your ass pressed against Joel, flick your tongue out to give the tip of his cock a tiny lick.
“We both know you like fucking me when I’m full of his cum.”
He’s not even going to protest that. There’s something immensely filthy about it, about sliding his cock into your tight little cunt after Joel’s used you, fucking a mixture of all three of you deep into you.
Besides the point, you choose that moment to wrap your soft, soft lips around his cock, taking his entire length into your throat, humming softly at the taste of him.
Behind you, Joel strokes himself slowly, watches you for a moment. Waits until you’ve pulled back, teasing the other man by sucking just the tip of his cock to line himself up with your dripping cunt and slam in to the hilt.
The momentum pushes you forward, forcing you to take far more of Javi’s length into your throat than you were prepared for, but to your credit, you don’t choke.
“That wasn’t very nice.” Javi smirks, dark eyes glittering with sadistic amusement as he surveys Joel.
“Fuck off.” The older man rolls his eyes, rough hands on your hips, holding you in place. “She can take it.”
You feel a surge of pride at that, at how well Joel knows your limits, knows what you can handle. He’ll never admit it, but a small part of him cares about you, beyond the physical and sexual aspects of things.
He starts to move properly, drilling his thick cock deep into you, letting the force of his thrusts push you forward, helping you take Javi deeper into your throat, drawing groans from both men.
It’s beyond empowering, knowing that you’re responsible for this, for the sounds they’re making, for the way you can feel Javi’s thigh shaking as you suck on him.
Joel doesn’t relent, not for a moment, slamming into you hard and fast, making you scream around Javi’s cock, knees shaking. Joel’s hands on your waist hold you up, but eventually Javi has to place your hands on his hips to give you something to hold onto.
They’re both rough, relentless, and you love it, feeling every inch of both of them, every slap Joel lays to your ass as he slams into you. He won’t last much longer, he knows this much. You’re too tight, too wet and needy for him, and the sight of you drooling over his rival’s cock is doing… questionable things to him.
Even worse - better? - when you tighten around him, moaning around Javi, cunt soaking his cock drilling into you, giving him more ability to get deeper and deeper inside you, fucking you through the intensity of your release.
He’s close and he knows it. He knows it, you know it, and so does Javi.
“Gonna cum in her already, old man? Can’t say I blame you, she has the tightest cunt I’ve ever seen, but damn.” He’s lazy in his taunting, in the way he’s rocking his hips into your throat, enjoying the way you work your tongue around him, the way your doe eyes are watching him, half rolled back from the feeling of Joel fucking into you.
“Thought I told you to shut the fuck up.” Joel almost growls it, but he doesn’t argue beyond that. He’s too close, you’re too tight, tiny little cunt milking his cock like you were made for it.
Leaning down over you, he pulls you up, away from Javi, crushes your back against his chest as he slams into you, grinding in deep and staying there.
“Such a good fucking girl, so fucking tight for me, such a sweet little pussy, gonna fill you up so good…”
It’s a string of filth that trails off into senseless growls as he slams you down onto his cock, drags another orgasm out of you as he holds you in place as he fills you, hot thick ropes deep into your aching, fluttering cunt.
He stays there for a moment, wants to be selfish, but it’s not all about him. He wants to see you overstimulated, sobbing and begging and needy for the both of them. Still, he’s a little reluctant to release his hold on you, pull out of your heat, idly watching as some of his release drips out of you onto the bed.
Joel likes you on all fours, or riding him, but Javi is the opposite. He likes you pressed beneath him, likes the feel of you under him. Once Joel releases you, he pulls you against his chest, kisses you again before dragging your legs out from under you, pinning your body beneath his.
You don’t even get a chance to react, not really, breath leaving your lungs as he nudges your thighs open with his knee, tosses one leg up over his shoulder before he slams into you, every inch of him sliding in at once, made easier by the slickness of your need and Joel’s cum.
He’s big, and it should hurt, but you’re so wet and needy that it doesn’t, barely stings. The position he has you in isn’t particularly comfortable, but it lets him get deep, lets him lean down and devour your mouth in hungry kisses whenever he feels like it, which is often.
You won’t admit it, but you love how he has such a fixation on kissing you, on nipping at your lips. He doesn’t need you to admit it; he can see it in your eyes, feel it in the way you kiss him back, hook your free leg around his waist as he pounds into you.
Joel lazes back on the bed, watches you with mild interest. You’re so responsive to both of them, but in different way. That’s almost reassuring. That you don’t respond to them both in the same way. That there’s a difference. He doesn’t know why it calms him, makes him less jealous, but it does. He knows how you are with him, and that’s good enough.
Instead he reaches out to stroke your hair, caressing softly as Javi drags his cock out of you, slams back in, over and over until you’re delirious from the pleasure of it, cunt tightening around him.
“That’s it, querida, take it,” Javi soothes you as he drills into you, fucking you hard and fast, sitting up, tossing your other leg over his other shoulder, getting rougher, more erratic.
Joel leans in, kisses you to muffle your screams as you tighten, pulse around the cock buried in your cunt. Your release is what drives Javi straight into his own, over the edge, hands on your waist tight enough to bruise.
“Fuck, baby, so fucking good…” his hips piston against yours, burying himself to the hilt and staying there; you’re so over sensitive you can feel every inch of his cock throbbing inside you as he fills you, adding his own release to the mix inside you, overflowing, dripping out down his cock onto the sheets.
You’re an absolute mess. Beyond a mess. Shaking, trembling on the bed, back arching as you try to recover. Javi gives you a moment, trying to breathe himself, before he pulls out of you, admires the mess he’s made. Joel shifts to take his place, pulling you gently against him, your head in his lap.
“Fuck, should take a picture.” He mutters to himself, surveying you a bit longer before he rolls off the bed, zips his jeans up.
“Won’t stop you.” You answer sleepily.
“You might not, but he will.” Javi nods over at Joel, who’s still idly playing with your hair, having already fixed his own pants a while back. “Ain’t that right?”
“That’s right.” Joel runs his hand along your side possessively; the game is over now, and he’s no longer interested in sharing you. He tolerates this because you want it, but he has no interest in letting Javi get cocky.
“Didn’t think so.” Javi grins, loops his coat over his shoulder, digs a packet of cigarettes out the pocket and lights one. You watch him, still dazed, as he slides his shoes back on, cigarette dangling from his lips.
He crosses back to the bed, drops the end of the cigarette into the ashtray on the side table, then leans down to kiss your forehead. Mostly to piss Joel off, but also because he wants to.
“I’ll catch you around, Miller.” He crosses the room, to the door, turns back to give you a brief fleeting look before he’s gone, closing the door behind him, leaving you nestled in Joel’s arms, and any resentment he may have about that with you.
#my writing#Joel Miller#Javier Pena#Joel Miller x Reader#Javier Pena x Reader#Joel Miller smut#Javier Pena smut#mafia!joel#corrupt!javi#mafia au#the last of us#narcos#the last of us fic#Joel Miller fic#Javier Pena fic
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Yours for the Weekend. {Javier Pena x F! Reader}
Summary: Javier returns to Laredo for a Long Weekend after being informed by HR he must use up his paid time off.
Warnings: A little angst, age-gap dynamic, kissing, nothing sexual in this chapter but marked explicit for future chapters. Reader has no physical descriptions.
Word Count: 3.2k
Chapter: 1 of 3.
A/N: Had this idea yesterday and wasn’t able to put it down. A huge thank you to the amazing @frannyzooey for editing, making the most helpful suggestions and being an incredible cheerleader. I am super grateful for you!
His nose scrunches up at the smell of freshly mowed grass and burning asphalt as the piping hot Laredo sun blazes down on it.
He was home. Kind of.
After working tirelessly and refusing to take any time off for months, HR had no choice but to demand he at least take a long weekend. Back to Texas, to see his Dad and spend the next few days tackling the jobs Chucho wasn’t able to do by himself, before rushing back to Colombia.
It had been just over a year since he last walked the familiar streets of home, ignoring the harsh whispering or the unwelcomed praises of their hometown hero. He’s never really sure of what he hates the most, the digs about how heartless he was to leave his high school sweetheart at the altar or the constant droning of how he is a hero; tackling drug crime with both hands at the expense of his own happiness.
After a while it became white noise, constantly crackling in the background and itching his brain in a place that he could never scratch. He has no doubt that this visit will be the same.
His cab pulls up to the Peña family ranch with Chuchos truck nowhere in sight. Javier pays the driver, insisting he keep the change as a tip before going to the back to grab his bag from the trunk. Knowing his dad would have made a fuss and insisted he pick him up from the airport, he hadn’t told Chucho he was coming back, and Javi didn’t want him to undertake any more unnecessary tasks so decided a surprise would be best.
Unlocking the door and stepping back inside the house he called home for most of his life is a feeling that he never fails to appreciate. The smell, the exact same furniture his mom and dad had picked out many years before and the sense of security is something rare that he allows himself to enjoy. A brief moment of serenity before he convinces himself he’s not a good enough man to enjoy the simple things.
The time of day and lack of food in the house alerts Javier to his Pops location. No doubt sipping an ice cold beer and chowing down on whatever special Rita has scrawled out on the chalkboard that sits slanted at the end of the bar. Food sounds good. He thinks to himself briefly before scrambling in the junk drawer for the set of keys to the spare truck that only gets used when Javier comes back into town.
‘Everything stays the same,’ he hums to himself as he pulls up to the bar, the sight of Chuchos truck making him chuckle as he parks up next to it.
Loud and unsurprisingly busy, he weaves through the crowd with his head down to go unnoticed, the corner of his mouth turning up as he spots his Pops in his usual seat chatting happily to Rita at the bar.
“Well, if it isn’t my lucky day!” Rita says with a beaming smile, “Both handsome Peña men in my bar at once! You never told me Javier was back in town.” She scowls at an equally surprised Chucho.
“I didn’t know myself!” He exclaims before pulling his son in for a hug. “What are you doing here?”
“Had a few days to kill,” he says before pulling back, with the first genuine smile on his face for longer than he cares to admit, “Figured you’d be here as soon as I opened the fridge.”
“Best chow in town,” Chucho remarks with a wink. “Sit down.”
Wordlessly Rita hands Javi a beer and then shouts to the kitchen to add another special to Chuchos order, “On the house.”
“How long this time?” Chucho asks before taking a sip of his beer, his arm resting happily on the top of Javis back.
“Long weekend.” It doesn’t take long until people are coming over and thanking Javi for his hard work in Colombia and letting him know how proud they are of their ‘hometown hero.’
“Leave him alone,” a soft voice calls out, immediately grabbing Javi’s attention. He watches as she balances two plates with an insane amount of sides on a large tray. “Let him eat in peace,” she warns the room of patrons with a stern look.
“Thanks dear,” Chucho chimes in as you place a plate in front of him and then one in front of Javi. Adding the sides between them both. “Enjoy, let me know if y’all need anything else.”
“Thank you,” they both reply in unison, making you smile before heading back into the kitchen and grabbing your next set of plates.
“How much longer do you think you’ll be out there?” Chucho asks, knowing that he’s unlikely to be happy with Javier's answer.
“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, “Depends on the DEA I guess. Lots of work to do.”
“Mhmmm,” Chucho hums in response, digging into his enchiladas and deciding on having a lighter conversation.
“We should stop for groceries on the way home,” Javi remarks before taking a large chug of his beer, “Maybe grill up some steaks tonight and have leftovers for lunch tomorrow. The fence outback is fucked… we can work on it in the morning, get as much fixed before I head back out there.”
“Sounds like a hell of a rest you’re planning for yourself there, mijo.”
Every now and then you appear from the kitchen, a wide smile spread across your face as you hand out dishes and serve beer. And every so often you catch a glimpse of him, seemingly unsure of himself as he sips his beer and eats his food. Clearly aware that much of the focus on the room is on him. Not all of it good.
You’ve been there. In a similar situation where the small minded folk of this never changing town whisper loudly about your indiscretions, your mistakes and intimate parts of your life that none of them have a right to know. It makes your heart ache as you wonder if that’s what really sent him running.
You’d heard bits and pieces about what happened, the town had gathered for what was likely to be a beautiful wedding, the church filled with excited guests eagerly awaiting to toast the happy couple but it never happened. He had cold feet and confessed that she deserved better, she deserved to marry someone that wanted the life that she wanted and it simply wasn’t him. He left town shortly after that and began his work with the DEA.
It didn’t take long for the woman to move on and marry someone else but even after all these years, people still hold a grudge, a grudge that you now knew personally.
You lean across the bar quietly, counting your tips and preparing to clock out for the end of your shift before catching a glimpse of him again. A small smile sits on his face as his Dad vividly tells him a story, and before you have a chance to look away his eyes flash upwards and meet yours. Both of your eyes linger for a few seconds before your attention is ripped away by a customer demanding another beer, and you graciously oblige.
The sound of barstools scrapping has you looking up again, watching as the Peña men gather their belongings and leave payment and a generous tip on the bar for you.
“See you tomorrow, querida,” Chucho calls over to you, “If you could add Javi down for the quiz that would be much appreciated.”
“Of course, Chucho. It was nice seeing you again.” You say, looking over at him and watching his face contort in confusion as he clearly begins trying to work out when and where you’d met before.
“She’s a good girl,” Chucho remarks as they walk towards their trucks, “Made a decision similar to one of your own, but didn’t have the means to leave town.”
“I can't place her,” Javi admits with a hum, wondering what decision you had made.
“Sirenita,” Chucho says with a hearty chuckle, “The youngest Juarez girl.”
“Oh shit,” Javi says, raising his eyebrow, remembering the nickname that had stuck, because you were always clutching a mermaid doll as a girl.
**
The sun is no longer uncomfortably hot as Chucho turns the steaks on the grill, watching Javi silently plate up the precooked sides they had picked up from the store.
“Other than that fence what else can we tackle before I head home? I was thinking we could replace the railings out front before I go… They’re not as steady as they should be, and don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’re relying on them more than ever.”
“Eat.” His dad replies ignoring his son's concerns. “I’m.. I’m glad you’re back, mijo,” he sighs, “Even if it’s just for a few days. I miss having you around.”
“It’s good to be back,” he half lies, he’s happy to see his father, happy to have the security that the four walls behind him provide, just not looking forward to the very real possibility of running into the ghosts of his past that seem hellbent on haunting his future.
**
“We should have just walked,” Javi scoffs as he attempts to find a space to park outside Rita’s. “I forgot how busy this place can get.”
“If you didn’t spend so much time making yourself pretty, we would have gotten here with plenty of time to find a space.” Chucho remarks before pointing out a spot just a little further down the road.
They both hop out of the truck and slowly meander towards the bar, watching the small crowd of people disappear inside, “Before we go in,” Chucho says, “You’ve got to realize that the work you do down in Colombia means a lot to the folks up here. Shake their hands when they come up to you, accept the compliment and take a sip of your beer. You’re like Santa Claus to some of these people. A rare sight. And they just want to thank you.”
“Pop—.”
“No, Javier, I know you hate it, I know it’s why you dragged your heels about coming tonight but just take it in your stride. For me.”
Javier nods a few times before bringing his hand to the top of Chuchos back, leading him towards the bar and taking a large inhale as he enters the bar and headfirst into the chaos.
He does as his father asks, shakes some hands, gracefully denies the offers to buy him a beer and makes his way through the crowd with a smile plastered across his face.
“No, Chucho! Not there!” Your voice calls out from the side of them, “Figured the guest of honor would prefer a booth that’s a little more out of the way than your usual haunt.” As you point to the booth at the very end of the bar, situated next to the makeshift stage that you’ll be calling out the questions from.
“Thank you, Chucho,” say as he greets his usual quiz team, watching with glee as they all greet Javi and give him their thanks and well wishes.
“Two beers?” You ask Javi, who’s looking at you with a grateful smile.
“Yes please… Sirenita.” He smirks.
“Ugh,” you groan, “Did you figure it out or did Chucho give you a heads up.”
“My Pops,” Javi admits with a shrug, “I-uh- I’m sorry I couldn’t place you. It’s been a long time since I saw everyone.”
“Don’t apologize, I was still a kid when you left. Now I’m all grown and thankfully that terrible nickname has since been retired by the folks here.” You say with a giggle. “I’m sure you’ll hear that I’ve joined you in the highly exclusive ‘Lotharios of Laredo’ club.”
He doesn’t have time to respond before you’re making your way back through the crowd and collecting two ice cold beers.
By the time you make it back Javier is deeply engaged in conversation with one of his fathers friends, answering question after question about the Escobar operation with a slightly uncomfortable ease.
“Good evening folks,” you say, before rolling your eyes at the enthused cheers from the audience, “Rita is on security duty, so if y’all even try cheating… Well lord, I, myself, will pray for y’all to have a speedy recovery. 30 questions. 3 highest scoring teams will win a prize. Let’s go!”
**
15 questions and multiple arguments across the table later a short intermission is called for bathroom breaks and beer refills. Javier sits quietly at the table watching you for a few moments. You’re still on the ‘stage’ and going through the sheets of paper with the next set of questions written on them. With a final chug of his beer, he pushes himself out of the booth and takes a few short steps towards you.
Clearing his throat he waits patiently for you to look up, “You okay there?” You ask with a smile, that makes his chest feel warm and fuzzy.
“Uh, yeah, I was just curious…” He says with a shrug, “This ‘exclusive club’, how exactly did a nice girl like you get inducted to it?”
“Maybe I’m not a nice girl,” you tease with a wink, “Tale as old as time. Childhood sweetheart arranges the ‘perfect proposal’ in front of the flower stand at the farmers market so basically the whole town can witness it and so I couldn’t say no.”
“Oh, shit… but you did? You did say no?” He asks with a twist of his lips.
“No, no, I said yes. But after booking a venue and trying on countless amounts of hideous gowns I couldn’t take it anymore and called the whole thing off, only to find out that his Mom had sent the invitations I wasn’t aware had even been made.”
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “That shit with paired with people's small town mentality isn’t fun.”
“It’s okay,” you say honestly, “They whisper about me more than you now, so at least this visit shouldn’t be so bad.”
“We will see,” he chuckles before Chucho slides up next to him and hands him another bottle of beer, “Anyway I best go back to my seat, keep this one from causing chaos.”
“Yeah. You should really keep an eye on that one,” you giggle, before scrunching your nose up at Chucho and grinning as he bops you on it.
The rest of the evening goes by without a hitch, you find yourself stealing more glances at Javier, unable to ignore just how handsome he is and you catch him looking back at you a few times. Both of you simply smile at each other when you do.
You announce the winners, happily to see the Peñas team came in third so have won a round of beers that they all seem thrilled about.
“Okay, I am asking everyone as nicely as I can,” you say with an inhale, “As I am the only one staying on to clean up tonight, please don’t leave your tables too cluttered tonight. Now go! Leave! Get home safely.”
“They work you too hard,” Chucho says with a shake of his head, “You shouldn’t be clearing up by yourself. Me and Javi will stay.”
“No,” you won’t, you say with a head shake of your own, “Your back has been giving you trouble all week. Go home, Chucho.”
“She’s right, old man,” one of Chuchos friends says with a chuckle, “You’d just get in the way.”
“I can help though,” Javi interjects, before turning to Mitch, “If you can drive my Pops home, I’ll stay and we will get it down in half the time.”
“You really don’t need-,”
“I know,” he says before tilting his head and leaning towards you and whispering, “But us ‘lotharios’ should look out for one another.”
“Fine,” you say with a scoff, “But lunch for both of you is on me tomorrow. It’s Chuchos favorite barbecue.”
**
You’re surprised at just how quickly you work together, you wash the plates and throw out the large collection of beer bottles as he clears the tables.
“Could you stack the stools on the bar?” You ask, seeing that he’s finished with the tables. “I don’t vacuum until the morning, but it’s just easier to move them up the night before.”
“Sure… How long have you been working here?” He asks, as he lifts up the first stool.
“Around six months… Rita hired me after the wedding shit. I wanted to pay back the deposits that his family had spent. I don’t need that shit hanging over my head.” You murmur, “People just love to throw that stuff back in your face around here… Figured if I paid it back, they couldn’t.”
“Smart,” Javi murmurs, “You back living with your parents?”
“No.” You shake your head and place the final glass into the pallet before stepping out of the kitchen. “They barely talk to me, still furious over the whole thing. I live in the apartment above the bar. Rita really helped me out.”
“Mhmm,” he hums, “Yeah, I’m not surprised. She was never on board with me marrying Lorraine… I’m glad I don’t have to worry about you getting home,” he says with a kind smile.
“No, just up the stairs. Thank you for staying and helping though. I really appreciate it.”
“Yeah. No problem. I won’t be sleeping for a bit anyway, and Chucho will be snoring by the time I get back.”
You finish up the rest of the clearing up with small talk, telling him the story of a few weeks back when Chucho had the entire bar participating in the most horrendous rendition of ‘La Bamba’ known to man and grinning at the way Javi snorts with laughter.
Noticing it’s the first time that he looks genuinely relaxed, the smile on his face soft and not stiff. He looks younger, just as handsome but his big brown eyes shine a little brighter.
“Do you want to stay for coffee? Or a whiskey? Whatever you’d prefer.” A voice that sounds eerily like yours asks.
He stares at you for a few seconds, weighing up his options before looking down and shaking his head, “I better not. It’s not that I don’t want to… But it’s better for you if I don’t.”
“Oh,” you say, nodding your head before shaking it. “Why?”
“You already know how people talk,” he says with a shrug, “A whole bunch of people saw me offer to stay and help you clear up. You don’t deserve—.”
“I stayed,” you scoff, “If I cared about what people thought of me, I would have left. I would have found somewhere, but it’s fine, Javier, if you don’t want to stay… don’t.”
“I said that it’s not because I don’t want to,” he repeats as you round the bar. Stepping toward him until you’re practically toe to toe.
“Then stay,” you whisper, watching as his restraint snaps and whimpering as his hand shoots out behind your hand and drags you closer to him. His mouth covers yours in a needy kiss. He groans as he captures moans of your own, swallowing them down as he presses you up against the bar.
He’s only here for the weekend after all.
#narcos#pedro pascal#narcos fanfiction#Javier Pena#javier peña#javi peña#javi pena#javier pena x reader#javi pena x reader#javier pena x you#javi pena x you#javi pena x ofc#javier pena x ofc#my fanfiction#javi pena fanfiction#javier pena fanfiction#javi pena smut#javier pena smut#tagging fics is a stressful#i suck at it
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My special prompt is for Javier Peña Ranch with a special combo for fluff and smut! If you're up for it! 😍💜
Fluff prompt: #6
Smut prompt:#6
Can't wait to see what you bring us!! Happy Sunday and happy writing!!! 🥰❤️
xoxo
SKYEEEEEEEEE ohhohohohoh let me tell you I saw ‘ranch” and then I saw those prompts and my brain said LET’S FUCKING GO. going back to the ranch is always so much fun for me, and this was the perfect opportunity for something delicious, sexy, and deliciously sexy 😍 I hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting my love!! xoxoxo
strawberry shortcake - the ranch - javier peña x fem!reader
word count: 3k
warnings: explicit smut, lots of teasing, shower sex, fingering, oral (f and m receiving), I regret NOTHING
It all starts in the morning.
As usual, Javi’s out the door with the sun, getting done the few things that need doing on the weekends, the Saturday sun beating down on his back with every step. By ten o’clock, he’s heading back to the house, the animals fed and watered. Getting closer to the house, he can hear music on the radio, and when he steps up the porch, he can see you through the screen door, dancing around the kitchen.
Every little thing she does is magic, everything she do just turns me on
Javier chuckles under his breath, pulling the door open and stepping inside, tossing his hat and his gloves onto the bench beside the door. You don’t notice at first, preoccupied with whatever it is you’re baking. There’s a bowl of cut strawberries on the counter, and the heat lingering in the air tells him the oven is on. He leans against the kitchen doorway, crossing his arms over his chest, one boot propped over the other, just watching as you unhook a bowl from under the stand mixer. The whisk attached to the mixer drips with whipped cream.
You curse, wiping the white off the counter with your finger and sucking it between your lips. Javier inhales sharply, watching your tongue dart out when some cream lingers at the corner of your mouth. It takes everything in him not to stick his hand down the front of his suddenly too-tight jeans.
“You’re up early,” he calls, announcing his presence. It makes you jump anyway, nearly dropping the bowl as you turn to set it on the island. You smack a hand to your chest, eyes going wide.
“Christ, Javi!” you half-shout, but there’s a smile on your face. “That whipped cream was nearly all over the floor.”
“Didn’t mean to spook you,” he says, stepping forward until he can twine his arms around your waist, leaning down to fit his face into your neck. You hum happily as he does it, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I was hoping you’d still be in bed when I came back.”
“Well, we have to leave for Connie and Steve’s in an hour or so,” you reply, “and this shortcake isn’t gonna make itself.”
Javi groans into your throat. Right. The party. He’d partially forgotten.
Connie and Steve moved to Laredo recently — further into the slowly-growing suburbs than the ranch was — and were throwing a house-warming party of sorts. You’d gone into the city one night this week to pick out a gift, returning with a few tasteful picture frames and a stuffed bunny for Olivia, and had reminded him last night you wanted to stop at a florist on the way there to get flowers for Connie.
“You agreed, Jav,” you laugh, tipping your head back while he lets his mustache scrape along your pulse. “Besides, it’ll only be a couple hours, then we can come home and you can have me all to yourself all night long.”
The mere idea of it makes his jeans tighter still, and he nips at your skin, earning himself a smack to the shoulder.
“Watch it! You know Connie’ll give me hell if I show up covered in hickies.”
“Love bites,” he corrects, pulling his head up, meeting your eyes. A strand of hair falls in your face, and he brushes it away, leans in to kiss your mouth, tasting the cream on your lips. “Mmm, sweet.”
“Love bites, sure,” you repeat, rolling your eyes. “Go get in a shower, cowboy.”
He pulls away from you reluctantly. “Does that mean you’re not joining me?”
“If the cake is done before you’re out, then maybe.”
“Querida,” he pouts and you push him in the direction of the stairs.
“Enough with the puppy dog eyes!” you laugh, still grinning. “Go!”
Ten minutes later, the cake is cooling on the counter and he has you pressed against the shower wall. The wet rope of your hair curls around his wrist as he holds you in place, your feet outside of his, your back arched and your moans filling the bathroom. His other hand is curled around your hip, grunting with every snap of his hips, the smack of your ass against the tops of his thighs.
He cums fast, driving his cock deep, and then yanks you up, banding his arm beneath your tits, his other hand moving to your clit, drawing fast circles that have you keening in his arms. You shower fast after that, taking turns beneath the spray, and you slink out first after kissing him soundly.
The bathroom is still full of steam when he gets out, and Javi takes his time, checking his discarded watch to see how much time he has. He brushes his teeth, combs his hair, shaves the bit of stubble from his jaw. When he walks back to the bedroom, towel wrapped around his hips, you are nowhere to be found, but you’ve laid out his red plaid shirt on the bed, along with a dark pair of jeans and his black leather belt.
Half an hour, and he’s walking down the stairs, fingers hooked into his belt as he turns down the hall to the kitchen.
His jaw nearly hits the floor, and his jeans are tight all over again.
You look absolutely edible.
Javier is pretty sure he’s never seen this dress before. His mind is a rolodex when it comes to you, full of details and moments and lists. Among those lists is his favourite outfits of yours — most of which are for bedroom use only, but there are a good few others that are outside-friendly. But this dress…he’s never seen this dress before.
It hangs off you perfectly, accentuating every curve of your body. It’s a pale turquoise colour, with little peach flowers all over it. There are buttons down the front, and the straps are thin, thin enough for him to know you’re not wearing a bra underneath.
Javi wolf-whistles, and you jump again, tilting your head back with a laugh as he walks into the kitchen, stepping toward you. “Don’t you look at me like that, Javier Peña,” you chide, pointing a finger in his direction. “You already had your way in the shower.”
“My way?” he repeats, lifting a brow as he moves behind you, letting his hands rest on your hips. The fabric of the dress is impossibly soft. “Pretty sure we both got our way, didn’t we?”
“We did,” you say, giggling as he presses his chest to your back. “I’m just saying, you got what you wanted, and we don’t have time—” The end of your sentence cuts off with a gasp as he slides his hand between your legs, pushing the heel of his palm against your cunt.
“Time for what, querida?” he asks, dragging the tip of his nose along your neck. “You know as well as I do I could make you cum right here and now.”
“Javi.” Your fingers curl around his wrist, and for a moment he thinks you’re going to pull his hand away, but you don’t. “You’re gonna make us late.”
“And Steve can give me hell about it all afternoon if he likes,” he replies, stepping away from the counter and the half-finished cake, taking you with him. You go willingly, melting into his arms.
Two minutes later, and he has you bent over the arm of the couch, eating your pussy from behind, the skirt of your dress bunched in his fists. Your thighs quake against his face, your underwear hooked around one ankle, and Javi lets one hand glance down the back of your leg as you cum with a shout, one arm reaching around to bury your hand in his hair.
Satisfied, Javier leans back on his feet, leaving a wet kiss on one cheek and delivering a quick spank to the other. It makes you moan and he grins, helping you back into your underwear, letting your skirt fall back down over your ass. You straighten slowly, still catching your breath, and Javi grabs your chin, kissing you hard, enough that he hopes you can taste yourself on his tongue.
“Ready to go, baby?”
Twenty minutes later, and you’re both in the truck, the gifts in the backseat, the strawberry shortcake boxed and resting at your feet. You turn up the radio as Javier drives, rolling down the windows to let the summer breeze waft through the truck cab.
Before you make it into the busier streets of the city, you pull your feet up under you, loosening your belt slightly so you can lean over the middle console of the truck. Javi lifts his brow as your hand curls around his bicep, skimming up and down his arm.
“I really love this shirt on you,” you mutter, leaning closer until you can press your lips beneath his ear. “Looks so fucking good, baby.”
He opens his mouth, but no words come out, only a low groan as your hand moves down between his legs, cupping him through his jeans, the heat of your hand seeping through the material.
“Cariño,” he mutters, gritting his teeth as the blood rushes south, cock twitching in his pants. “I will pull this truck over, I swear to god.”
Just as the words are past his lips, the streets grow busier, the countryside giving way to the suburbs, and you sink back into your seat, returning your feet to the floor, resting your hand over his on the gearshift.
“Are you okay, Javi, sweetheart?” you ask, your voice falsely sweet as you lace your fingers through his. “You look a little flushed.”
He tightens his grip on the steering wheel and presses the gas a little harder. You just laugh.
Connie and Steve are excited to see you both, and Olivia doubly so. You’ve seen them a few times since you and Javi became an official item, and while Livvy loves her Uncle Javi, she loves you even more. The afternoon is spent in the Murphys’ large backyard, filled to bursting with lawn chairs and tables, a little inflatable pool for the kids, overflowing coolers filled with beer and soda for the adults. Steve pulls Javier in every direction, introducing him to their new neighbours, Steve’s new colleagues and the like. A few are familiar faces to Javi, and there’s the inevitable conversation of how it’s such a small world, inquiries about Javier’s parents, the ranch, etcetera.
And the whole time, Javi keeps an eye on you.
Connie has commandeered you as much as Steve has Javier, introducing you to all her friends and the neighbours. He’s watched as you’ve done the rounds, chatting with people, offering Connie help with refilling the coolers or setting out snacks. Olivia has most of your attention, however, and Javi watches more than once how she wobbles over to wherever you’re standing, wraps her little fingers around yours and pulls you over to the blanket of toys Connie laid out for her. You go willingly each time, a beaming smile on your face.
Now, Javier watches with a grin on his own mouth as Olivia giggles wildly, her little feet kicking while you blow raspberries on her little belly. Connie sits beside you on the blanket, the two of you chatting between Olivia’s requests to stack blocks or give voices to her stuffed animals.
“So, when are you gonna put a ring on that girl’s finger, Jav?” Steve asks, the words almost too loud, handing Javier another beer. He feels his ears go red as he takes the bottle, taking a long sip before Steve touches his boot to Javi’s. “Seriously, man. She’s an angel.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” Javi quips, glancing at Steve before his eyes dart back to you. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“Think less,” Steve tells him, tipping his bottle toward Javi. “It’ll just get you into more trouble. Just ask her. Honestly, Javi, I’ve never seen you this happy.” His ex-partner lifts a brow. “Or is the sex just that good?”
Javier chokes on his beer. He sputters, instantly wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Shut the fuck up, Murphy.”
More conversations are had, more of Steve’s friends joining the circle to talk shop, football games and the new sports bar that opened downtown. It all sort of fades into the background for Javier as his gaze continually returns to you. Eventually, Connie pulls Steve away to help with something, the others go to make conversation elsewhere, and Javi is left alone in his chair.
He’s not lonely for long, however, because just as he’s setting his empty beer bottle down on the ground beside him, you materialize in front of him, dangling a fresh beer in front of his nose, the condensation dripping down the glass.
“Querida,” he grins, taking the beer before reaching for you, curling an arm around your waist. “Come here, you hot little thing.”
You throw your head back and laugh, falling into his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck. He leans in and kisses the hinge of your jaw, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin, the flowery smell of your hair. It’s intoxicating. You sink fully into his lap, leaning against his chest, moaning as you go.
“Ugh, that feels good,” you groan, tilting your head back so the sun pours over your face. “These shoes are killing me.”
Javier nips at your earlobe. “Moan for me again; it sounded nice.”
You smack his chest, straightening slightly. “Javi.”
“I’m just teasing.”
“Aren’t you always?”
He just chuckles, shaking his head as you lean back against his chest again. Javi rubs his hand up and down your back, drawing circles on the bare skin between your shoulders, letting his fingers dip beneath the fabric of the dress just a bit.
You hum quietly, resting your head on his shoulder. “Honestly, Jav, how are you so comfy? I could sit on you all day.”
Javi presses his lips together, feeling your face grow hot as you realize what you’ve said. He tightens his arm around your waist, squeezes your hip through the fabric of your dress. “You know you have an open invitation for that, querida.”
He can almost see the goosebumps rise across your skin, and you wiggle your hips slightly, adjusting yourself in his lap. His cock twitches at the friction and you drape both arms around his neck, leveling your face with his. You peck the tip of his nose, but then your mouth slips south, kissing his top lip softly. He can tell you’re restraining yourself, and it only makes him harder.
The hand not curled around your hip starts rubbing up and down your legs, and when your knees part slightly, he finds his opening, glancing around to make sure no one’s paying you any mind before he lets his hand slide right up your skirt, fingers skimming up the inside of your knee.
“Javier.”
He pushes his face into your neck again, making it look like he’s whispering something to you, a secret for your ears only. “You think anyone would notice if I started fingering you right now?” he asks, and you don’t reply, but he hears the quiet gasp, the hitch in your breath. “You can be good for me, can’t you, querida? Let me play with that pretty pussy, but don’t let anybody know what we’re doing. Hmm?”
You twine your fingers in the back of his hair and tug, hard enough that his head lifts from your throat. “Javier Peña, you’re a menace.”
“You’re the menace, cariño,” he responds, raising his brows. “Who gave you the right to look so fucking delicious in that dress, hmm? I oughta teach you a lesson.”
The corner of your mouth quirks. “Mm, I think I’d enjoy that lesson.”
He gives you a quick peck. “I’ll make sure that you do.”
Your grin turns full-blown. “And speaking of delicious, my shortcake was a hit, but I really think we should get home soon, Javi. There’s lots more whipped cream in the fridge, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.”
An hour and a half later, and you’re home. You’re home, and you barely made it through the door, a trail of clothes leading from the front porch and into the kitchen. The tile floor is cool against Javi’s bare skin, but he feels like he’s on fire all at the same time.
The bowl of whipped cream sits off to the side. You’re as naked as he is, sitting astride his face, your knees pressing against his shoulders. Javi’s got his hands on your hips again, holding onto you tightly, groaning into the inside of your thigh as you drop another dollop of whipped cream at the base of his cock. It’s cold — almost too cold — but the coolness turns to heat as you close your mouth around him again, the warmth of your mouth almost too much to bear. Your tongue rides the veins of his cock, laving at the base while the tip hits the back of your throat, cleaning the whipped cream from his skin.
He yanks you down hard, sealing his mouth around your cunt, pushing his tongue into your dripping hole. You keen, moaning around his cock, and the vibration makes him moan right back into you. You don’t let up, not until he’s cumming hot down your throat, and even then, you pull off him with a quiet pop, instantly dropping your head to lick the rest of the whipped cream up. It sends chills through his whole body, leaves him writhing on the floor, and he taps your thighs, signaling you to get off.
Javier doesn’t let you go far, pulling you back against him as soon as you’re upright, both of you on your knees on the kitchen tile. With one hand, he smears whipped cream around your nipple, mouth lowering to lick it up a moment later, and the other finds its way between your legs, thumb circling your clit, two fingers sinking into you.
“Javi,” you groan, your head dropping back on your shoulders, one hand diving into his hair as he scrapes his teeth against your nipple, reaching for more whipped cream before moving to the other. “Oh my fucking god.”
He drags his tongue against you before flicking his eyes up to your face. “Moan my name again, querida,” he grins. “It sounded nice.”
“Javier.”
#my fics#the ranch#strawberry shortcake#javier peña#javier pena smut#javier pena fic#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x reader#javier pena x you#javier peña smut#javier peña x you#narcos fic#sleepover sundae#javier pena fluff#javier peña fluff
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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 23)
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 24
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Masterlist
Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo
Words: 12,675
Summary: It’s been more than a year since Madrid and even longer since the chaos of Colombia. As they settle into a new life in Laredo, their past no longer holding them back, Javier’s career change helps him reconnect with his roots whilst Horacio’s plans for the future of the farm and ranch start to take shape.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Smut (including leather/cowboy kink and power dynamics), grief, parental loss, religious themes and symbolism, discussions of period-typical prejudices/violence/politics/legislation, smoking, drinking, swearing.
Notes: Well, here we are at the final full chapter 👀 No one is more shocked than me that I've made it here tbh 😂 For so long, it felt like finishing this fic was an abstract concept, but somehow, I persevered!
I don't really know what else to say right now, other than, an epilogue will (all being well) be posted on Friday 1st March...exactly 3 years after I posted chapter 1. Don't ask me how 3 years have passed, because my brain cannot compute lol.
The epilogue will be much, much shorter than this chapter, but I think it rounds their story off nicely and I can't wait to share ❤️
Thank you once again to anyone still reading, or anyone who may read this at some point in the future. As always, comments/flailings/key smashes etc. are greatly appreciated 😊
I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's plenty to choose from for this one…in fact, I had to split my trivia post into two as I ran out of space, oops lol).
Chapter 23: Desde La Frontera
As the faded blue truck pulled up in the front yard, the moon sat full and high, casting a pale glow over everything beneath it. A key turned in the lock of the sleeping cottage, the silver hue from above illuminating a convenient pathway, negating the need to switch on a light.
Javier shrugged off his boots and jacket in the kitchen with a weary sigh and deposited his keys in a dish on the table. The hand-painted ceramic bowl had been sent with love from Madrid as a housewarming gift, along with framed artwork of the city they left behind that hung above their bed, a bottle of olive oil, a small jar of saffron, and some homemade turrón.
It wasn’t easy saying goodbye to Señora Romero, the café or their apartment. For all of the unanswered questions they arrived in Spain with, it became their safe haven. Although they were under strict instructions not to leave it too long before visiting again, and who were they to turn down good company and an endless supply of hot, fresh churros?
The rustic limestone cottage had less square footage than the farmhouse next door but was over two stories rather than one. A decked porch ran along the perimeter with wooden chairs and plants at the front, facing a complex of outbuildings and stables. A swing seat big enough for two resided at the back, looking out onto a medium-sized garden with a chicken coop and the rolling farm fields and river bank lying beyond.
The front door opened into a hallway where boots, coats and hats were tidily stored – at Horacio’s insistence – which led to a spacious kitchen/dining area and an adjoining utility room with a door to the garden on the other side. A second hallway branched off the kitchen towards a lounge with a centrepiece stone fireplace and a staircase up to two bedrooms – a master and a smaller spare – and a bathroom.
Whilst the interior still needed some work, fresh coats of paint – off-white for most of the rooms with splashes of eggshell green in the kitchen – and the exposed ceiling beams restored with an oak oil stain gave the place a new lease of life.
The wall clock opposite the kitchen window ticked past 3:00am. Fuck, no wonder Javier felt so beat. He manoeuvred his way upstairs, slow and careful, to avoid the creakiest boards. They may have stripped and waxed the floors, but that apparently didn’t cure the squeaking of the well-worn wood underfoot.
He must have succeeded on this occasion, as it wasn’t until he got to the top that he was met with Luna’s wagging tail. He whispered a greeting to her and rubbed behind her ears until she returned to her sleeping spot beside Sol and Leo, who hadn’t even stirred. Sometimes, the trio would bed down for the night here. Other times, it was just Luna. Rarely, it was none of them now that they had two new rivals for Chucho’s affections next door.
Kira was a six-month-old Great Pyrenees, her thick coat a solid white with pale tan patches. Fuego, a male copper red and white Border Collie, was a couple of months older and already chomping at the bit to get amongst the cattle. Although they both still had to undergo a lot of training before they would be put to use on the ranch, Javier and Horacio got the distinct impression Chucho enjoyed being kept on his toes again.
Javier finally reached his destination but gave himself an extra few seconds to take in the view.
Horacio was nestled beneath their sheets on his stomach, his torso rising and falling in a calming rhythm that Javier was convinced could have lulled him to sleep if he wasn’t standing up.
He undressed, throwing every item of clothing straight into a rattan hamper in the corner of the room, keenly aware he needed to shower but too tired to do anything about it now.
Instead, he perched on the edge of the bed, basking in Horacio’s long eyelashes, rough stubble and unrulier-than-usual hair that was tantalisingly close to becoming a head of curls if he didn’t get it cut soon. Not that Javier was complaining.
He tried to be restrained and let Horacio sleep, but he was only human.
A faint groggy sound came from Horacio’s throat as delicate lips met his forehead, his lashes flickering until they couldn’t resist any longer.
Javier hushed as he gently crawled on the bed, draping himself over Horacio and kissing the nape of his neck. “Sorry it’s so fucking late. Just go back to sleep.”
“You’re making that difficult right now.” Horacio arched his back in response to the warm breath tickling his bare skin as Javier’s mouth worked between muscular shoulder blades.
“Shouldn’t be so irresistible.”
“Sorry about that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“No. I’m not.” Horacio twisted around far enough for Javier to slide off his back and onto the mattress, allowing them to properly embrace. And so Horacio could put his own mouth to use.
That was as far as it was going for the night, though. Horacio had an early start in the morning, and Javier didn’t want to fall asleep before they could finish.
“Did it all go okay?” Horacio asked once they had got comfortable.
“Yeah, yeah. Well, there was a delay with the paperwork, as usual. But once we were on the road, it was fine. Heavy traffic around San Antonio, but I almost had the I-35 to myself on the way home.”
“And the family?”
“Exhausted and drained, obviously. Fuck knows when their hearing will be. But at least they’re together again and safe for now.”
Javier wasn't only clueless about the date of the hearing, he couldn’t predict the outcome of it either. That wasn’t his remit. By the time the Torres Fuentes family were in front of an immigration judge, he would have helped countless more families and individuals like them. Their circumstances weren’t always the same, but their options were just as limited.
Not all days – or nights – were like this one. Sometimes, Javier would be on translation duties on the frontline of the border, triaging and directing people towards help, whether it be medical attention, food, water, toiletries, a change of clothes, a shower, or a bed for the night. Or, more than likely, access to a lawyer. His and the fleet of other aid workers for charities, not-for-profits and NGOs would be some of the first non-threatening faces new arrivals would see once the INS was finished with them, and that wasn’t a responsibility he took lightly.
Other times, he would deliver bond money to detention centres in exchange for someone's freedom, help people fill in forms and paperwork, or run community outreach sessions, reminding people of their rights. He had even hosted several families at the guesthouses for a night or two until safe transportation could be arranged for travel onward to relatives or sponsors elsewhere in the States. Flights were usually not an option for most due to a lack of papers, so the preferred method was long car journeys split between drivers like Javier. No two days were ever quite the same because no two stories were ever the same. There were commonalities, but subtle nuances and complications came with the territory of human lives.
“You did everything you could to help them.”
“I know. Just makes you realise how fucking…fragile it all is. And how fucking lucky we are.”
There was no denying luck – and money, of course – played a role in Horacio securing a visa and the Holy Grail of a green card for being an investor in the States. But Javier had also utilised an old contact at the US Embassy in Bogotá to expedite Horacio’s application. Her name was Colleen, and she had, with great reluctance, helped him secure visas for several informants in the past.
The silence over the line when Javier had uttered Horacio’s name was long, loud and awkward. But just like with his informants, she didn’t ask any questions and did him one last favour on the proviso she never heard from him again.
“We are. And I’ll never forget that.” Horacio’s palm connected with Javier’s cheek, flecks of moonlight highlighting the dark circles under his eyes. “You look exhausted, too.”
A soft chuckle filtered through the shadows. “Thanks. Sorry for waking you, though. I know you’ve gotta be up early.”
“Yeah, which is why I’m glad you did wake me. Once I’ve done the usual rounds, I’ll probably be in meetings most of the day. So, I won’t see you until late.”
“Better make the most of you now, then.”
Lingering kisses followed, but they knew it was fruitless to fight the fatigue.
“How’s everything going with the business plan?” Javier asked once he had accepted defeat.
“So far, so good. I want to go through everything with your father again before everyone arrives. Just to make sure he’s happy with it all.”
“I’ve, er, got it on pretty good authority he is.”
Horacio rolled his eyes. “I know. But it’s his money invested in this place as much as ours. And it’s not like I’m the expert.”
“Not yet. And he trusts you. They all do. You’re no longer a new face around here, remember.”
“I know. But I’m still learning the ropes, and I’m not the one in charge anymore.”
“You sure about that?”
There was a suggestive edge beneath the drowsiness in Javier’s voice. If Horacio looked hard enough through the darkness, he would have seen a quirked brow thrown his way.
“Well, I still have my moments.”
Javier mumbled a lazy hum of agreement. “I’ll say. But don’t worry about tomorrow, okay? You’ll be fine. Trust me.” He managed one last kiss for good measure, even though his eyelids were getting heavier by the second.
A muffled “I do” was pressed into the shell of Javier’s ear as he flipped his body around, his back cushioned against Horacio’s chest. Calloused fingertips weathered by hard labour nowadays rather than a trigger found their home resting on the curve of Javier’s stomach, eliciting a meditative sigh from both as they huddled down.
It didn’t matter that one of them would be up soon with the dawn chorus while the other might be called away past the midnight hour. Because they knew how lucky they were, not only after all they had been through but compared to so many who crossed the border to start a new life. And it was impossible to take that for granted.
------------------------------------------------------
For all that had changed, wall-to-wall meetings and stacks of paperwork were two guaranteed constants to remain. No matter the career path Horacio chose, he was apparently destined never to escape their clutches.
The morning and most of the afternoon – with a short break for lunch – had been spent poring over business plans, maps and spreadsheets with Chucho, his accountant, Miguel, and the ranch and farm managers, Marco and Félix.
Horacio was still adjusting to being the least qualified person in the room again. But the fact that he was even privy to such meetings in the first place was a privilege not customarily afforded to ranch hands without much experience under their belts. It was hard to gauge what others thought about his…unique position here. But he was also an investor whose name, along with Javier’s, was on the title deeds of the farm. Even if people didn’t know about them, it stood to reason that he would be consulted about any development proposals.
Between his money and the safety net of his connections – whatever some may have speculated the precise nature of those were – to a well-respected ranching family, Horacio, so far, hadn’t had too many problems. Not even when shadowing or attending training courses off-site, and he was surrounded by heavy Texan drawls and the type of man who had the propensity to make his feelings clear with his fists – or a gun – if he found out a fellow rancher shared a house and bed with another man.
But the odd off-hand comment had made Horacio wonder if they knew more about his past employment than he realised. In which case, perhaps in their eyes, getting on the wrong side of the former head of Search Bloc wasn’t a wise move.
Regardless, this was what he had signed up for. And for all his investments and networking, there were no cutting corners in ranch and business management, beef production, animal science and equine studies. The Peñas were far from the only family business in the industry, and most had grown up a lot more hands-on than Javier. Horacio could never have leapfrogged over them even if he had wanted to.
By late afternoon, the meetings were done for the day – although there would be plenty more to come – leaving Horacio and Chucho to check on the pregnant heifers. The calves weren’t due until early April, another month away and just in time for Horacio’s birthday. But it was all hands on deck between now and then to ensure it went as smoothly as possible. Their main job today had been to weigh the expectant mothers, who, thankfully, all turned out to be healthy and on the right track.
Broken shards of light bounced off the ranch’s steel fences and gates as Horacio and Chucho sat on the farmhouse porch enjoying a well-earned break, the sun’s heat beginning to show glimpses of what it was capable of during the summer months. Bluebonnets blanketed the fallow fields, and the saccharine scent of yucca blossom travelled on the early spring breeze.
Chucho stirred a freshly made pot of tea and filled two cups to the brim, sliding one across a wooden table towards Horacio, who accepted with a nod of thanks.
“So, do you think it went okay today?” Horacio asked after a quenching sip of tea.
“Better than I expected, to be honest. Félix worked for Ciro and Malena for many years. I wasn’t sure he’d take to new ownership. Or if he’d even want to stay. But he seems to be on board with the idea of expansion.”
“What about the rest of the workers Ciro and Malena employed?”
“A few moved on or retired. But most don’t care who’s in charge as long as they're getting paid.”
“And what about here? Have many left or cut ties since…” Horacio trailed off, hoping he had done enough for Chucho to follow his train of thought without saying it out loud.
“Not many, no, Mijo. And only the ones I’m glad to see the back of.”
“Not many?” Horacio scoffed into his cup, sending ripples across the surface of his drink. “So, still some, then.”
“As I said…only those I don’t want the ranch to be associated with anyway. It's no loss if they can’t keep their noses out of my family’s business.”
The thing was, Horacio and Javier had everything to lose if the wrong person found out. One phone call was all it would take for the police to be banging down their cottage door. After all, that had happened to plenty of others like them in Texas. It had happened to plenty of bars and restaurants that ended up either raided or burned to the ground, the owners and patrons harassed, arrested, beaten to a bloody pulp, or worse. But Horacio couldn’t bring himself to say any of this to Chucho, so he took extra time swallowing his tea instead.
“From what I’ve heard, the majority see you’re a hard worker. You’re willing to learn the ropes. But you’re not afraid to get stuck in or take the lead if needed. You’re professional with the contractors. And you’re trusted to do a good job. That’s worth a lot around here – a lot more than gossipers. I may not know what it’s like for you both...but I do know not everyone’s like them.”
A smile reflexively spread across Horacio’s lips. “My Mamá said similar back in Manizales.”
Chucho mirrored Horacio’s expression. “She sounds like a wise woman.”
“She is.”
“And proud of you. As I’m sure your father would be. Starting over again is never easy, but what you and Javi have done here…I'm proud, too.”
“Thank you. Me too, to be honest.” Horacio let out a brief huff. “When Javier told me what he wanted to do, it was like the final piece slotted in place. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it sooner.” He shook his head this time at how blindingly obvious it was once Javier said it out loud. “But I think he needed to leave to be able to come back again.”
Chucho hummed into his tea. “That’s the thing about the past: you can’t outrun it. And once you let it walk alongside you, I think your path becomes clearer.”
For the second time that afternoon, Horacio could scarcely believe his Mamá and Chucho hadn’t met yet. But he was looking forward to the day that would change.
“A few years ago, I never thought this could be my life. Or that I wanted it to be. But now, even though it’s not easy work, and the hours are long, and I’m starting from the bottom of the ladder again, everything just feels…” He broke off, searching for the right word.
“Simple?” Chucho supplied.
“Yes. Simple.”
After Horacio finished his tea and saddled up Coco ready to help move the herds into the barns before nightfall, he didn’t mind that his legs were stiff from all the sitting in chairs he had done today. Or that the last thing he felt like doing was wrangling contrary cattle.
He didn’t mind that it would be more of the same at the break of dawn tomorrow and a long road ahead of grafting and proving himself. He didn’t mind that he wouldn’t catch up with Javier until they shared a late dinner once Javier had driven back from Austin. He didn’t mind if complete strangers couldn’t stomach what they got up to behind closed doors as long as they were left alone to live in peace.
He didn’t mind any of it because they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
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No matter what profession he worked in, it was rare for Javier to take a weekend off. He’d accepted a long time ago he wasn’t the 9-5 type, and leaving it all at the door once he clocked off had never been an option. But a new batch of aid workers and volunteers had arrived in the last few weeks. And once Luz, his boss, got wind of an upcoming birthday in the team, she insisted Javier finally use up some vacation time.
Luz Díaz was someone Javier could call a friend as well as his boss these days, especially in light of their parallel circumstances. While Luz was an aid worker on the border, she lived with Carla Moreno, the daughter of a dairy farmer several miles to the south. However, unlike Chucho and Elena, their parents, whilst not hostile, preferred to brush their daughters' relationship under the carpet wherever possible.
When Luz accompanied Javier to the guesthouses with a new family one afternoon, she had first crossed paths with Horacio. Until then, Javier had played his cards close to his chest, never knowing whether it was safe to trust anyone. But it hadn’t taken Luz long to put two and two together – or for her to realise she could share her secret in return.
Birthdays had held no real significance for Javier since childhood. But his Pops was determined to invite him and Horacio to the farmhouse for dinner that evening. In the meantime, once Javier had escaped work by mid-afternoon, he headed home to freshen up and grab a drink. It may have been late October, but the Texan heat was a stubborn son of a bitch, and was still hitting the mid-90s several times a week.
A neatly written note was pinned to the fridge that read In corn barn, so Javier took a UTV and headed across the farm. It was quieter now the harvest was over, and the cattle from the ranch had grazed on any leftovers. The herds were back next door, allowing bales of corn stalks to be gathered up and stored ready for use as bedding for the livestock on chillier winter nights.
The latest calves had thrived since April and only had two months left before they would be weaned off their mothers. Usually, several were sold at auction, but they had kept hold of them this time due to the extra space. Now the harvest was out of the way, the next step was to clear the lower fields and build a new gate linking the ranch with the farm.
When Javier arrived at the barn, Horacio was unloading the last batch of bales off the trailer.
Horacio paused for a second when Javier came into view, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Where did you get that?”
“It was on the passenger seat.” Javier gestured to the parked UTV. “Does it suit me?” He tipped the brim of a Stetson to match the one Horacio was already wearing.
Given the similarities between their outfits, anyone would have been forgiven for thinking Javier was an employee. They both wore belted dark blue jeans – Horacio’s more mud-splattered – brown boots and plaid shirts with rolled-up sleeves – Horacio’s brown and white and Javier’s green and red. The most noticeable difference was Horacio wore a white bandana around his neck whilst Javier’s shirt collar was wide open, his neck on full display.
Horacio silently lifted the side of the trailer back up and locked it now that it was empty. He shrugged the protective gloves off his hands one by one and flung them into the cab of his truck.
He followed Javier into the barn and closed the door, but his attention was on the wall opposite. A long row of hooks was hung across it, where various pieces of equipment were kept, including overalls, brushes, and a wide range of horse tack.
On the last hook was a coiled lariat, which Horacio picked up and stood facing Javier several feet away. He threaded the rope through the Honda knot until he held a loose loop in his right hand, his hungry gaze fixed on Javier as his wrist built momentum over his head in measured circles.
Before Javier could react, the tip of the rope found its target, tightening around his waist, his feet involuntarily taking him forward as Horacio reeled him in. Even when they were chest to chest and breathing hard, Horacio didn’t let up his grip on the rope.
“You know it does,” Horacio eventually rasped at the shell of Javier's ear.
Javier shivered at the timbre of Horacio’s voice, the earthy scent of the land combining with the heady musk of sweat, remnants of mud and dust still visible on his face and arms. “Someone’s been practising.”
“Well, it is a special occasion.” Horacio tugged on the rope, pressing their bodies together until his lips found Javier’s neck, stubble scratching along his jawline, finally brushing over his mouth.
Javier took the bait, responding with a full kiss, distracting Horacio enough to drop the rope. Then it was all bets off as his hands journeyed over Horacio’s back, first dipping southwards, palming his ass through his back pockets, then northwards to remove the bandana and roam under his shirt. But something made Javier pause mid-way.
He looked at Horacio for an explanation but was met only with a coy smile.
“Happy Birthday.”
Javier’s brow quirked suggestively of its own accord. “I thought we weren’t doing presents.”
“I can take it back if you’d prefer.”
“Don’t you fucking dare. Now, shut up and drive us home.”
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No sooner were they back at their cottage than Horacio straddled Javier’s lap on the couch, teeth nipping as they grabbed handfuls of fabric or skin.
When Javier made to unbutton Horacio’s shirt, Horacio stilled his attempts. “Not yet.”
Instead, his mouth ghosted over Javier’s as his fingers slid down to his belt, unbuckling it unhurriedly and deliberately.
Their laboured breaths filled the silence, the rich scent of earth and woodsmoke heavy on their senses.
“Touch yourself,” Horacio finally said, his order clear, voice steady.
It was all Javier could do not to come on the spot. But he managed to exhale through his nose, his lips pursed as he wrestled back a semblance of control.
He let his right hand slide down to his zipper, which he knew Horacio had left closed on purpose. He gradually unfastened it, his palm disappearing out of sight.
A hitched breath and tensed thighs let Horacio know Javier had made contact even before Javier’s wrist began to twitch.
For several strokes, Horacio merely observed, drinking in every detail of Javier’s face, each jaw movement and shuddered breath, their eyes locked together as Javier took himself in hand.
Horacio couldn't hide that he was more than a little affected by the show beneath him, so he upped the ante, his fingers seeking out the buttons of his shirt, popping the top one first, then the second, third and fourth.
He stopped there, giving Javier another sneak peek of the surprise he had planned for more months than he cared to admit. He could see Javier had noticed the tantalising glimpses of brown leather drawn tightly against bare skin and could feel Javier’s motions speed up.
The remaining buttons followed, allowing the shirt to fall over the broad expanse of Horacio’s shoulders until it hit the floor.
“Fuck.” Javier’s hips spasmed, slamming against Horacio’s crotch in the process and triggering a chain reaction of panting. “Shit, Horacio. Where did you – how –”
Javier was cut off by a finger at his mouth and a soft hushing sound.
Horacio pressed a digit to Javier’s lips until it was engulfed by wet warmth. “Keep going.”
As Javier’s tongue swirled and his cheeks hollowed, he set back to work, building up friction along the shaft and over the head. It was like a switch flicked in Horacio during moments like this when he was all smoky rasps and concise commands. It was the closest Javier had ever got to experiencing Colonel Carrillo first-hand, and nothing was as intoxicating.
When Javier was being regarded and instructed so intensely, he had no choice but to submit. Anything to please the force of nature who made him come harder than he ever had done in his life. And so, he kept going, fist clenched around his cock, edging himself with each edict echoing in his ears.
Running across Horacio’s chest below his pectoral muscles was a leather strap linked to another one on either shoulder that crisscrossed over his back, his biceps restrained by matching cuffs. The leather was a worn cognac brown with intricate stitching, decorative studs and buckles like the vintage cowboy belts the harness appeared to be made from.
“You like it?”
Javier’s free hand hypnotically reached up to Horacio’s torso, fingers tracing each detail of the leather in between cupping Horacio’s pecs and tweaking his nipples.
“Beautiful,” was the only word he could muster. It was by far the best birthday present Javier had ever had. Although, if he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed Horacio was trying to make this his last one.
Horacio was conflicted between watching and needing more, so he compromised by subtly rocking against Javier’s inner thigh whilst continuing his role as a voyeur. Knowing his voice alone could get Javier off was a power trip Horacio never grew tired of, even after all these years. In fact, since his career change, it had become more arousing because being in charge was a novelty now.
He brought two fingers to Javier’s lips again, which were taken greedily without the need to be told.
“Good, that’s it, and another.”
All three digits rested on Javier’s tongue as Horacio probed back and forth with increasing vigour, leaving no doubt what he had in mind as a string of saliva connected from mouth to fingers when he finally withdrew.
Horacio transferred his glossy hand straight to his chest and across his nipples, flicking the pad of his thumb over each bud just the way Javier liked to lick them.
When Horacio looked back up, Javier was tugging in a frenzy, his breathing ragged and fraying at the seams, dangerously close to it all being over.
Horacio reached out to stop Javier’s wrist, leaning closer until his lips brushed against his ear. “Not before I’ve ridden you.”
Javier immediately extracted his hand from his jeans with a huff of frustration, resenting Horacio almost as much as wanting to be fucked. Every man had his limits, and his were rapidly being reached.
With both hands free, he alternated between hot, smooth skin, the textured leather and cool metal. He slid his fingers beneath the harness, imagining all the positions he could manoeuvre Horacio around.
His hands travelled down to Horacio’s ass, pulling him further into his lap as their mouths crashed together at long last. From glutes to thighs, Javier embraced each one until he met resistance under the denim of Horacio’s jeans.
Javier ran his fingers over it a few times. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Guess there’s only one way to find out.”
Javier growled as he lunged for Horacio’s belt and zipper, both men making light work of removing his jeans.
Whilst Horacio stood up, he took the opportunity to undress Javier and reach over to the drawer beneath the nearby coffee table. He rummaged around until he retrieved what he was looking for and stashed it on the sofa.
There was no holding back now as nails raked over hot skin and tongues connected, rough and harsh, their cocks jutting between their stomachs. Javier’s hands glided over and under the leather straps, descending beyond until his palms massaged Horacio’s cheeks apart, wider with each circular motion, his knuckles teasing up and down the cleft.
The tremor that ran through Horacio was enough to cause Javier’s arm to stretch across the sofa until he located the bottle of lube, expertly flipping the cap open and pouring liberally.
He alternated between his middle finger and thumb in a corkscrew motion, letting Horacio stretch around him, Horacio’s forehead dropping to Javier’s shoulder, teeth grazing flesh as he held their cocks in his fist.
It wasn’t long before Horacio lowered himself, steadily taking inch by inch. He initially held still, experimenting with nudges up and down as he braced his arms on the back of the couch.
A winded noise escaped Javier’s throat as Horacio sunk deeper with more force this time, gyrating his hips until he found a rhythm.
Javier was torn between the mass of muscle and leather at his fingertips but settled for clinging to the front of the harness, pulling Horacio further onto his cock.
A strained grunt left Horacio’s throat, prompting him to re-adjust so his feet were planted flat on the sofa cushions, the change in angle plunging him to new depths. He paused, giving them a chance to catch their breaths. And then, without further warning, Horacio squatted down.
The echo of his ass hitting Javier’s thighs was enough to make Horacio do it again. And again, over and over, the slap of skin on skin louder each time.
One of Javier’s hands scrambled aimlessly around for an anchor, eventually finding the couch’s arm where Horacio’s Stetson had landed earlier in the proceedings.
Javier snatched hold of the brim and brought it towards them, depositing it on Horacio’s head. “Keep it on.”
Horacio was powerless to refuse when it made Javier’s cock twitch and pulsate, massaging Horacio’s prostate as he bounced at just the right angle, his own length sliding up and down the plains of Javier’s chest and abdomen.
Now the hat was in place, Javier's hands sailed over Horacio’s thighs, pausing as he made contact with the leather band around his right thigh. He couldn’t believe Horacio had not only remembered their dirty talk the morning after Trujillo’s wedding but that he had brought Javier’s fantasy to life. And it was better than even his wildest dreams could have imagined.
A part of him wanted to remove the garter just so he could re-attach it. But he was mesmerised by the way the leather stretched around Horacio’s thigh as his pelvis pulsed back and forth, up and down, and round and round.
His fingers gravitated south, landing where the two men joined together. “Fuck,” Javier choked out, rubbing in circles around the wet rim, feeling the thrumming heat of his own cock, and wishing he had a better visual of them moving as one.
“Lie on the floor.” In complete contrast, Horacio’s cadence was calm and in control, like he was directing his horse.
Javier did as he was told, his body cushioned by a thick grey, black, and ivory Zapotec rug.
Without hesitation, Horacio sat atop Javier’s thighs with his back to him, presenting the perfect view as though he had read Javier’s mind. As he re-seated himself, he reached behind, spreading his cheeks wider as he sunk lower.
A strangled whimper was drawn from Javier’s chest as he raised his head for a closer look once Horacio started to move. He ignored the strain in his neck and replaced Horacio’s hands with his own, each palm cupping and squeezing, pushing forward, fingernails clawing, urging his rider to go faster.
In response, Horacio deepened the roll of his hips and balanced his hands on the rug beneath them.
They had picked it out on a trip to San Antonio the previous year, one of their first joint purchases for the cottage. And now they were finally christening it, surrounded by an array of décor and furnishings they had chosen together since. For their own home, an unthinkable notion in the not-so-distant past. Yet here they were against all odds.
Javier grasped the latest addition to their household, pulling Horacio by the harness in all directions as though he was the jinete (horseman) steering the reins rather than the steed being mounted bareback. But Horacio was the one wearing a Stetson. The one in the saddle daily, strengthening and toning his muscles even more than they already were, and Javier could already feel the difference.
He let go of the harness, his fingertips skimming Horacio’s voluptuous upper arms, rump and thighs, caressing the tight leather cuffs, pressing the sharp chill of the buckles against fiery skin until a shockwave rippled through Horacio and straight to Javier’s cock.
As Javier’s hips involuntarily bucked, their rhythm faltering in a chorus of moans, Horacio was beginning to regret not utilising a belt or one of the lariats from the barn as restraints on Javier’s wrists. But he changed his mind when he felt a crisp slap across the ass like a quirt used with overzealous force. But unlike the horses – with whom he was always gentle – Horacio had no objection to the sting left behind.
In fact, it only spurred Horacio on, his ass lifting higher with each strike, building momentum, one hand stimulating his own cock in tandem.
Javier could feel rather than see Horacio jerking off, and his pelvis began to automatically plough upwards again, trying and failing to keep in time when he was this far gone.
“Horacio,” Javier breathed out, his tone pleading, desperate and wrecked.
“Tell me what you need.” Horacio wasn’t going to make it as easy this time. If Javier wanted something, he would have to use his words.
“I need you on all fours.”
And so Horacio dismounted, willing and waiting to give Javier everything he asked for, a complete 180 in a matter of minutes.
Javier wasted no time and fell in place behind Horacio, lining himself up and propelling forwards with a rough thud, nails digging into hipbones hard enough to leave marks.
As Horacio took himself in hand once more, Javier slowed to bask in a bird's eye view of his cock disappearing and reappearing, his thumbs spreading Horacio wider to get a better look at where they became one. It would have been easy to take it for granted by this stage, but he never did, not when they had been forced apart by circumstance and geography so many times before.
Whilst Javier was distracted, Horacio threw back his hips, causing a hiss of pleasure that inspired him to do it again and again, his ass pounding against Javier’s groin.
Javier drove forward in retaliation, pulling Horacio towards him with a firm jerk on the harness, a dual wave of groans unleashing each time Javier manhandled him, the thick leather straps taut against Horacio’s clammy skin, hopefully leaving imprints from the force.
Javier yanked hard enough to raise Horacio up on his knees, cementing them back to chest, teeth, mouth and moustache going to town as Horacio craned his neck to meet the onslaught.
“Do you know how fucking good you look like this? How…fucking…beautiful?” Javier’s declaration was broken up with each thrust as he resumed movement.
“It’s all for you,” Horacio purred between lip bites. “Your own cowboy to play with.”
With a muttered “Fuck,” Javier pushed Horacio back down on all fours, toppling his Stetson to the floor, one hand gripping at the harness, the other at the nape of Horacio’s neck, his fingers fondling the gold chain that complemented the silver one at his own breast.
His hips hammered forward, no holds barred, as an all too familiar pressure built and threatened to consume him any second now. He glanced down, transfixed by his own fluid motions, entranced by how well Horacio held his cock, how Javier had tamed a once wild bronco who would have thrown off any other rider a long time ago. But not him, never him, so maybe he was more of a vaquero than he thought.
A combination of the visuals, the leather against his skin, and the tight heat squeezing and releasing around him took its toll. Javier let out a wounded gasp as though all the air had been knocked out of his lungs, his muscles tensing from head to toe as he watched his cock spasm and fill Horacio up.
As liquid warmth painted Horacio's walls, his wrist jolted and shook, sending him over the edge. He felt an extra weight on his back, the harsh scrape of teeth and words of encouragement at his ear as a hand took over from his own. Just the right pace and force, just how he liked it, just enough to make him coat Javier’s fingers, vision blurred, back arched.
They didn’t move as the room came back into focus, letting their lungs and heart rates return to baseline. Before Horacio could collapse to the floor, Javier slowly pulled out, smearing glistening fingers around Horacio’s fluttering hole, mixing it in with his own release. His tongue swirled and lapped from behind, making Horacio tremble on his knees until they buckled, and he could take no more.
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The spark of a lighter and deep exhales of smoke were the only sounds to be heard for several minutes as they lay recovering in bed, the hard floor downstairs proving too much for their aching limbs, even with the rug for protection.
“So, are you gonna tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
“Oh, come on. You know fucking well what.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.”
“Does it matter?”
“Well…no. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
“Surprised you haven’t guessed. In fact, I kinda thought it was you dropping a hint.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It was one of your old magazines that gave me the instructions on how to make it. And it’s not hard to get access to leather around here. The saddlers the ranch uses are well-stocked in almost everything. They don’t need to know what it’s being used for.”
Whatever Javier had been expecting to hear, it wasn’t that. When moving into the cottage, he had cleared out his old bedroom. Hidden in the depths of his wardrobe, beneath several layers of clothes, was a pile of magazines he never had the heart to throw away or burn, one of which was a Cowboy and Rodeo Special of Drummer.
Javier blew out a low chuckle as he passed their cigarette across the bed. “I wish I had been dropping a hint. Although…looks like you did fine without my influence. Always the dark horse.”
"Hey, they're your magazines, not mine."
"You read them. Cover to cover by the sounds of it."
"Just making up for lost time when I was younger."
"At least someone's getting use out of them. So, you ready for your first rodeo, now? Based on this afternoon, I'd put in a good word."
"Very funny."
Although, whilst Javier was, of course, joking, there were plenty of men like Horacio who did compete across Texas – without hiding who they were as well. He imagined Horacio would rather die in a stampede of raging bulls than partake in such a competition. But nonetheless, it was an appealing fantasy for Javier to indulge in from time to time.
His fingers traced patterns over Horacio’s thigh where the leather garter remained even after the harness and cuffs had come off, the leftover scent of sweat and semen on their skin fusing with the tobacco in the air. He had taken great pleasure and care in removing those; however, when it came to the garter, Javier placed a ring of kisses where the leather sat but left it in position.
“You liked it, then?”
Javier gave Horacio an incredulous look as though the answer spoke for itself. But there was a hint of uncertainty behind the question, and it was only fair to provide reassurance. “I loved it. A lot. I don’t really do birthdays, but you’ve certainly made this one memorable. So, thank you.”
"My pleasure," Horacio murmured mid-kiss. "And it definitely beats my birthday."
"That wouldn't be hard."
The first few hours of Horacio's birthday were spent helping deliver calves and bedding down close by the expectant mothers every night for the following two weeks. He barely saw Javier other than at meal times, and it took multiple showers to wash the pungent barn aroma out of his hair.
“Hadn’t we better shower soon?” Horacio said with reluctance once they pulled apart. “Don’t wanna keep your father waiting.”
Javier leaned over to look at the clock on the bedside table. “Yeah, we should. I’m starving now we’ve worked up an appetite.”
“Do you want to do the honours?” Horacio gestured towards his thigh.
“Keep it on.”
Horacio could tell from the wicked glint in Javier's eye he wasn’t joking. “You do know I have to work with your father? And look him in the eye.”
“Oh, come on, he won’t even notice. Not everyone checks you out as much as me, y’know. Especially not my Pops. And…” Javier sat up and swung his leg across Horacio’s thigh until he was straddling him. “It is still my birthday, remember.”
Despite such brazen tactics, Horacio met Javier’s mouth again, groaning gently as Javier’s teeth pulled on his bottom lip. “Fine. As long as you can keep your hands to yourself through dinner.”
“I’ll try my best.”
He could make no such guarantees after dinner, though.
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It took another week for the temperature to cool by several degrees, just in time for the residents of Laredo to visit neighbouring pumpkin patches, carve out Jack-o’-lanterns and go Trick-or-Treating.
By the time Javier had finished work and picked up some groceries, Chucho was busy in the lounge blanketing a table with a white lace cloth before arranging two extra tiers on top decorated with papel picado. Nearby trays were full of items ready and waiting to be placed on the ofrenda, including a Talavera pitcher of water, pan de muerto, a plate of salt, fresh marigolds, Calaveras, and a familiar wooden box.
Chucho looked up at Javier, who stood in the doorway with a cardboard box. “Ah, Javi, good timing. Pass those here.”
Javier held out a batch of fresh buñuelos delivered straight from Desde La Frontera. “Need a hand?”
Chucho looked at Javier with pleasant surprise. “Please, Mijo.”
Between them, they transferred everything from the trays to the table, Chucho directing where each item needed to be placed.
When it came to the wooden box, Chucho sat on the sofa to open it.
Javier watched silently from a few feet away, an ache forming in his chest when he saw the photos spread out on the furniture. But he pushed past it and sat in the adjacent armchair.
He looked closer at the pictures and reached into the pocket of his leather jacket. “This needs to go on it too,” he said.
Chucho glanced up to see Javier clutching Mariana’s poetry book.
“Of course. She can tell us how much she liked Madrid. Which reminds me…”
Chucho stood up and disappeared into his bedroom before reappearing with a card in his hand. “I always keep it by my bed, but it belongs on here.”
Chucho was holding an old prayer card of La Virgen de Guadalupe. “Abuela Rosa gave it to your Mamá for her quinceañera, along with these. ” Chucho lifted a string of rosary beads from the wooden box. “I think she cherished the card as a reminder of our ancestors. Even though your Abuela disapproved, your Mamá had her own ideas about Guadalupe.” He couldn’t help but laugh and shake his head with fondness.
“How do you mean?”
“Back in the '60s, Guadalupe became the mascot for the farmers’ union protests – the ones your Mamá marched on. She liked to think of her as someone who helped those in need. Do you remember her reading stories about the Aztecs? And Guadalupe, La Malinche and La Llorona?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Javier blinked, keeping his eyes closed for a fraction longer than was customary. The memory was fuzzy around the edges, but he could feel the warmth of his mother lying beside him on his bed, a book between them as she read aloud tales of their ancestors. Once he started getting drowsy, she would sing to him or stroke his hair and kiss him goodnight, the comforting sound of her favourite telenovelas drifting through his bedroom door as he fell into a deep sleep.
When he was even smaller and couldn’t sleep after his older cousins convinced him La Llorona had been spotted in Laredo the previous night, his Mamá soothed him with the advice she had been given by her mother to always pray a Hail Mary and an Our Father whenever near water before making a sign of the cross for protection.
However, Javier also remembered during the first few months after she was gone, he would have nightmares about La Llorona. Except in those dreams, his Mamá had taken on the appearance of the wailing spirit, and her ghost roamed along the banks of the Rio Grande, screaming for him. But no matter how hard he tried to get closer to her, she would move out of reach until he woke up screaming.
“There have been so many versions of those stories since the days of the Aztecs, who knew Guadalupe as Coatlalopeuh, Tonantzin, or Coatlicue. La Llorona as Cihuacoatl. And La Malinche as Malinalli or Malintzin, or La Chingada. Some of those stories say they are all one and the same. And that the conquistadors made Guadalupe the Madonna above the others. Your Mamá saw Guadalupe as a symbol of hope, a mediator between the Aztec and Catholic religions, uniting all the different parts of us and our roots. The light and the dark, the old world and the new, the conquered and the conqueror, the obedient and the rebellious, the eagle and the snake, the Mexican and the American.”
“Never thought of it like that when I was younger. But it’s beautiful.”
“It is.” Chucho stood up and placed the prayer card on the altar.
“D’you think it’s possible, though? To unite it all, I mean.”
“I think we have to try as much as we can. And learn to make peace with it when we can’t. But I know it’s not easy.”
“Mexico didn’t seem far enough to run when I took the DEA job, even though it was never home. So, Colombia it was.” Javier couldn’t help but laugh at his own confused logic in hindsight. “But when we were in Manizales, I kept thinking about all the stories you told me about our family history – in the US and Mexico. And it just…hit me I was needed right here on the border. So, thank you, Pops.”
“For what?”
“For reminding me of my roots.”
“Your Mamá helped out a lot here, but she always wanted to do more. And she would have done a whole lot more if she’d had the chance. She’d have fought for yours and Horacio’s rights too, I’m sure of it. I had a feeling you’d take after her one day.”
“Better late than never, right?”
“Right. She’d be so proud of you and your work, Mijo. And so am I.”
A customary exchange of nods filled the silence that had become a trademark between father and son over the years when words seemed inadequate.
Chucho cleared his throat and turned to make one final check everything was in its rightful place on the ofrenda. “I think we’re about ready if you want to get Horacio.”
Javier headed next door with his Pops’ words – and his Mamá’s – echoing in his head. He thought about all the tangled threads that had run through him his whole life like the river he grew up on the bank of. It was ironic he could walk across bridges from Laredo into Mexico and back again, a confluence of his heritage. Yet there was always a gap that wouldn’t close. A gap those who insisted on his name meaning shame with a n rather than rock with a ñ wouldn’t let him close. All of the contradictions and dualities he had tried to reconcile, assuming in the past that he was expected to pick one or the other but never feeling qualified enough, resigning himself to an eternal conflict he could never win.
He thought about the people who crossed the invisible line in the earth every day, the one that instantly changed their identity and status whether they liked it or not, dividing and flattening their humanity into stereotypes and insults. The one that caused mothers separated from their children to cry like La Llorona and be condemned for finding themselves in desperate circumstances through no fault of their own. The one that led to Operations Hold the Line and Gatekeeper building walls and deploying an army of la migra, as Border Patrol were often called, to keep people out.
Maybe it was Javier’s recalcitrance, but the more the US government tried to put up borders – despite not thinking twice about violating those belonging to other countries – the more at ease he felt without them. After all, Texas had been part of Mexico in the past, as well as its own republic, and he had spent more than enough of his life trapped by self-imposed borders and walls already.
To be in a place like Laredo was to live on the margin of two countries and cultures, not one or the other. He was Mexican American, a Tejano. He had shared his heart and bed with women and men. Horacio was a closely guarded secret and a naked truth; they lived in the shadows and in the light. He was making a difference, yet it was a drop in the ocean of an ever-expanding problem. He regretted so much of what went down in Colombia, but not that he went in the first place, not only because of Horacio but because it brought him full circle. It brought him peace. It brought him home.
------------------------------------------------------
As the clock struck midnight and welcomed in Día de los Difuntos, the ofrenda was aglow with candlelight, and the fresh scent of copal filled the farmhouse.
Horacio stood over the altar, his gaze fixed on the image of him in his Papá’s jacket, his father’s usually stern expression relaxed and…proud. He had never really allowed himself to think of that word before. But as the veladoras flickered and swayed across the photograph his Mamá had insisted he kept, he could no longer ignore it.
Beneath the photo lay the golden pendants, temporarily removed from Horacio's neck for the festivities, a glass of his Papá’s favourite rum to match the one in his hand, and a plate of tamales.
“Not bad for a Colombian.”
“I guess I had a good teacher.”
“After dealing with a son determined not to follow in my footsteps, it makes a change to find someone more willing.”
Horacio’s eyes landed back on the photograph of him and his Pops before shifting to one of Mariana in her element at a Chicano civil rights march with a toddling Javier by her side, a bittersweet smile taking hold of his lips. “Funny how it works out.”
“True. But as long as it does, that's the main thing. Even if it’s not what you expected.”
“I’ll drink to that.”
“What are we toasting?” Javier asked as he came in from the kitchen with two glasses of his Mamá’s mezcal of choice, passing one over to Chucho.
Chucho gave a nod of thanks and raised his glass. “To endings and beginnings. And reunions.”
The next couple of hours were spent telling stories, reminiscing, remembering. Welcoming the past into the present, letting it know there was still a future.
------------------------------------------------------
Chucho retreated to bed first, leaving Javier and Horacio to finish their drinks by the fire, which had burned down to its last mesquite log.
After placing their empty glasses in the kitchen, Javier stopped by the ofrenda on his way back to the sofa. His eye caught the selection of sugar skulls on display, each delicate design bearing the name of a departed loved one. Although, there were, in fact, two each for Mariana and Eduardo.
Javier traced his finger across the one which read Mariana Rosa Reyes Estrada, a pair of arms gathering tightly around his waist simultaneously.
“I never knew her with this name. She left Estrada behind in Mexico. Before she married, she was Mariana Reyes. Then she took Pops’ name ‘cos that’s the gringo way. And to make all the paperwork easier, I was just a Peña, too. But Pops likes to welcome her home with her Mexican and American names. In case she gets lost, he always says.” Javier released an affectionate chuckle at the expense of his Pops’ superstitions.
“He told me when he asked for my father’s full name.” Horacio smiled into Javier’s shoulder as he reached towards the skull that read Eduardo Horacio Carrillo Acosta.
He repeated the same motion across the shared part of his and his Papá's name. “The CNP prefer you choose one name when you enlist. So, of course, we all followed suit – Mamá included. And she left Sierra behind when she changed her papers.”
“Seems like we all have to leave parts of ourselves behind one way or another.”
“True. But if we’re lucky, we find them again somewhere down the line.”
Javier hummed in agreement as a trail of kisses soothed at his neck.
“When was the last time you did this, by the way?” Horacio asked as he traced idle patterns over Javier’s stomach.
“Día de Muertos? Fuck…I can’t even remember. When I was in Colombia, I always came home for Christmas – but not before. Pops never made a big deal out of it, but I could tell he was disappointed.”
“I’m sure he understood. And at least you’re here now.”
“I know. I think I just needed to do it in my own time.”
“Same here. So, thank you. To you and your father.”
“For what?”
“Letting me be a part of it. I think it’s something I’ve needed to do for years.”
“Horacio, of course you’re a part of it. You’re a part of the family.” Javier’s fingers found Horacio’s, lacing them together with ease above the belt of his jeans. “Tú eres mi familia.” (You’re my family)
“Y tú eres mía.” (And you’re mine)
“I was thinking about tomorrow…well, technically, later today. I, er, wondered if you wanted to watch the parade downtown. Then maybe head over to the cemetery with Pops. It's fine if it’s too much. I get it. I just thought maybe –”
“It’s okay.” Horacio cut him off, turning him around until they were face-to-face then forehead-to-forehead. “I’d love to.”
As the last embers of mesquite turned to ash, they knelt in front of the soft glow of the ofrenda, fingers connecting with their silver cross encased between their palms. A final attempt to welcome home those who had shaped so much of their children's lives, even in their absence, and sometimes in the most unexpected ways.
------------------------------------------------------
Echoes of drumbeats filled downtown Laredo by late afternoon, accompanied by a rainbow of papel picado along every street and a sea of Catrinas and Catrins. Children and adults alike wore masks or calavera face paint and marigolds in their hair, the intricate details of their costumes no doubt requiring months of preparation.
Food and drink stalls had seemingly popped up overnight, selling everything from pan de muerto, pozole and tamales to alegría, gorditas, marranitos and champurrado. It was impossible not to get swept from stand to stand, and fears of Javier and Horacio being scrutinised by anyone they happened to bump into were soon allayed. The hustle and bustle of the festivities made them anonymous yet at one with the city, as they were all here for the same reason.
Floats, dancers and puppets passed through the main roads, a spectacle Javier hadn’t witnessed in years. As a teen, the last thing he felt like doing was celebrating when it came to his Mamá’s passing. She wasn’t supposed to have gone so soon. But nowadays, he could appreciate the care and respect involved in honouring the dead. He could look back on the precious memories and not feel the need to push them away. He could accept the duality of grief and love, not as contradictions but as two sides of the same coin.
As they followed the procession at the end of the parade, making their way towards the cemetery to meet Chucho, Javier caught Horacio’s eye with a silent question. One that Horacio answered with a firm nod, reassurance that they were still on the same page.
So much had changed since Horacio was last here for Día de Muertos, not least of all the fact Javier was with him this time and had since met his family. And Escobar was dead, of course. His Papá was no longer a choking force around his neck but a warm presence that sat more comfortably on his chest. Not weightless, but manageable now.
Although darkness had fallen by the time they arrived at the cemetery, a sea of candles and lanterns lit the gravesides like an endless night sky, each one guiding the way home, even if just for one day. The celebrations from earlier continued, some families singing, drinking and eating. Others prayed or sat with blankets and hot drinks, telling stories and keeping memories alive.
Chucho had been busy when it was still light, clearing out dried flower stems and polishing Mariana’s headstone. Now, fresh marigolds were arranged around the candles, their strong fragrance carrying across the cemetery.
They were greeted with pats on the back and a glass of mezcal. A lowkey toast and short prayers were all they had planned, preferring to save the rest for the privacy of home.
“I just wanted to say thank you. To both of you for coming.”
“Any time, Pops. I’d forgotten how beautiful this place looks all lit up.”
“It reminds me of Día de las Velitas back in Colombia. People light candles and lanterns at cemeteries like this. Not that I could bring myself to join them after Papá.”
“There’s still time.” Javier held Horacio’s gaze through the flickering half-light, making the most of the only gesture he could give in public.
“I know.”
“It’s quieter here usually. A nice place to think. And she’s always been a good listener. So, if you ever need some breathing space, I’m sure she’d be all ears.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.” Horacio mirrored Chucho’s soft smile before laying down a tasteful wreath of marigolds he’d bought from one of the street vendors on their way here.
Javier watched with a growing warmth in his chest as his past, present and future collided once again. A first meeting of sorts, even if it wasn’t how it should have been. Even if it was built on memories and traditions, on prayers and stories, it was still real.
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Slivers of silver reflected off the dark waters beyond the farm’s boundaries, the stars above shimmering like distant fireflies. Southern Texan Decembers were mild, but there was a chill to the air after sundown, especially by the river bank. However, it was nothing a blanket or two couldn’t fix.
Horacio was propped against a mesquite tree with Javier sitting between his legs, one blanket beneath them and the other draped over them. Coco stood watch nearby, her reins looped around a branch as she chomped on her favourite treat of apple slices – a reward for tonight’s extra work.
They shared a flask of Manizales’ finest coffee between Horacio lightly massaging Javier’s scalp and temples. It had been a hectic few days, from Chucho roping them into Las Posadas preparations to the farm being short-staffed in the past week due to seasonal colds and flu and the border seeing a higher influx of crossings in the build-up to the holidays.
Apart from a Christmas dinner or two, they weren’t expecting to take much time off over the festive period, but tonight was all about them. They had miraculously managed to escape work on time before driving to Desde La Frontera for a meal that was starting to become an anniversary tradition.
Javier played with Horacio’s hands, pressing kisses into his knuckles and pausing over his left wrist. “You like it, then?”
“Very much.”
“I know it’s not quite a garter or harness, but…” Javier trailed off, his shoulders and abdomen shaking in tandem.
“The strap’s the same colour, though.” One of Horacio’s hands snaked along Javier’s form, tickling at the waistband of his jeans enough to make him squirm.
“Oh really? Hadn’t noticed.”
“Liar.”
“Maybe. But it does suit you.”
Of course, Javier was banged to rights. He had spent considerable time picking out the watch, knowing Horacio preferred something digital – for pinpoint accuracy – and practical. Horacio had never got around to replacing his old one that was stopped by the ambush, so it was a long overdue replacement.
But if it also happened to be a gentle reminder of certain escapades every time he looked down at it, well...that was an added bonus. As was the thought of Horacio wearing Javier’s gift buckled around his wrist every day, the strap tight enough to leave a mark on his sun-kissed skin.
“Likewise with your present.”
“I dunno about that. I think you wear it better.”
“You’re the homegrown Texan boy, not me.”
“You’re the fucking cowboy, not me.”
Horacio’s fingers on his right hand took a firmer hold of Javier’s hair, coaxing him to turn around and abandon the flask he had just brought to his lips. “Technically…you own part of the ranch and farm. So, it’s about time you had a Stetson.”
Their lips met over Javier’s shoulder, still warm and tingling from the coffee.
“Fair point.” Javier picked up the flask again and downed whatever was left before it went cold. “We got any more of this, by the way?”
“Not ‘til next week. I told Alejandra to bring as much as she can fit in her luggage.”
“Well, there’ll be plenty of suitcases to choose from.”
“I know. I’m not sure your father knows what he’s let himself in for.”
“Oh, don’t worry, he knows from when my cousins and I were kids. And he gets to play host, so he’ll be in his element.”
“He’s already given me a list of groceries to pick up on the way back from the livestock auction in Hondo.”
“When’s that again?”
“The day before my family arrives. Not ideal timing, but couldn’t really say no to more experience.”
“You still shadowing Gus Montoya?”
“Yeah, he’s been in the trade since he was 16, and he’s one of the best in the business now. I thought I should be involved before we start buying the new Santa Gertrudis and Longhorns for this place next year.”
“The paddocks are gonna be in these lower fields here, right?” Javier gestured towards a recently cleared stretch of land with the newly installed gate separating it from the ranch next door.
“Yes. It’ll be easier to move everything back and forth without disturbing the other fields. Then, once the new herd’s settled in, we can expand the stables, get in some more Morgans and Quarter Horses. Maybe diversify the cover crops for next winter.”
“Sounds good.” An unseen smile had spread across Javier’s face, the novelty of listening to Horacio talk ranch business not having worn off yet. All those years he tuned out whenever his Pops did the same, yet he never tired of hearing Horacio’s plans.
“It keeps me out of trouble.”
“Shame.”
“That’s not until next year, though…” Horacio trailed off, his lips devouring Javier’s neck, nibbling until Javier wriggled in his hold.
“Well, we better make the most of this before your family arrives.”
Horacio hummed in agreement, his mouth still buried in Javier’s shoulder. “Especially as there’s a quick turnaround before New Year’s.”
“True. I take it Felipe and Juana are still okay to come?”
“I forgot to tell you – I spoke to him earlier. Juana’s feeling much better now the morning sickness has passed. And with Cali gone and FARC taking up more and more CNP resources in the jungle, it’s mostly turf wars between the smaller gangs in Medellín. So, Martínez authorised his leave, and they’re flying out on the 30th.”
“Glad to hear it. It’s all good on the Miami front as well. They arrive the same day, late afternoon, once Connie’s finished her shift and Steve’s picked Olivia up from his parents’ house.”
“Okay, good. So, everything’s sorted then.”
“Not quite…I still need to clean out the guesthouses. Don’t think our old one’s been done since the Navarro Vega family left.”
“At least it’s still getting used since we moved out.”
“Yeah, well, I guess someone always needs it. Especially with IIRIRA coming into force. So many more fucking deportations. So many people taking bigger risks ‘cos they've got no choice.” Javier exhaled harshly through his nose.
He ran his fingers over his moustache and chin, pressing his thumb into his jaw and resting his face in his hand. “It’s starting to feel like the old days again.”
“But it’s not, Javier. You’re on the other side of it all this time.”
“It’s not just the border, though, is it?”
“What isn’t?”
“Legislation that could have us arrested for fucking in the privacy of our own home.”
“We’ve always been careful.”
“We thought we were careful back in Colombia, Horacio. And look where that got us.”
Javier didn’t think about those days much anymore if he could help it. Neither man did, except on specific dates or bad days if they were unlucky. But it was hard to shake the sense of paranoia in light of what the laws of his own state had to say about his sex life. It wasn’t far-fetched to imagine someone like Mia Domínguez spying on them through a long lens, waiting to catch them out.
“True. There’ll always be a risk. But people like us have always existed under the radar. And we’ve been here over a year now, remember. Anyone who’s got a problem with us has already made their feelings perfectly clear. The rest either don’t know or don't give a fuck. Our story doesn’t have to end like the one you showed me in The New Yorker.”
“I know.”
Javier had been in two minds about whether to share it. But Horacio insisted he was the one to be read to for a change, preferring to hear the evocative imagery of the wild American landscape from the mouth of a Texan. The parallels were undoubtedly there between the glossy magazine pages and elements of their lives – but luckily, not all of it rang true for them.
“For a start, they were sheepherders from Wyoming,” Javier added with a tone of defiance.
“Exactly. Completely different.”
“Yep.” Javier exhaled loudly, his mind already returning to his previous stubborn thought. "But it’s the same government smoke and mirrors shit all over again. The same fucking hypocrisy. If it's not chasing people down the river or letting them die in the desert, it’s drug shipments they made easier to transport here in the first place. Or you’ve got couples like us crossing over looking for safety, only to run into fucking sodomy laws. It’s never gonna stop.”
It was the same sleight of hand tactics Javier had seen before. Legislation made thousands of miles away would claim to solve a problem whilst exacerbating it on the frontline. Whether it was drugs or human beings, they proved time and time again that they couldn’t be contained by a border or a statute book. Whether it was Border Patrol or the DEA, choppers would fly over the river at night, fruitlessly chasing traffickers despite the extra budget. If the usual border crossings were out of bounds, people would risk more remote or treacherous spots to try their luck.
It wasn’t unheard of for them to emerge from clusters of trees like the one they were sitting in now, drenched and shaking from the cold and dehydration. Or for Javier to be ready and waiting with towels, a change of clothes, a hot shower, or food and drink. Some would present themselves willingly to the authorities, others would disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. If anyone ever asked, Javier had seen and knew nothing.
“And neither are you. Look at all the people you’ve helped already. You might not be able to save everyone, but you’re making the difference you always wanted to make.”
Horacio coaxed Javier to face him again, cupping his jaw and rubbing a thumb over his stubbled cheek. “Estoy orgulloso de ti.” (I’m proud of you)
Javier closed his eyes, basking in Horacio’s touch and closing the gap between them. “Y yo de ti.” (And I of you)
Easy kisses followed – the kind that were grounding and familiar, safe and timeless.
They rode back to the cottage with only the moon and stars guiding the way. Horacio clasped Coco’s reins whilst Javier held onto his waist from behind, making the most of the idyllic evening spent alone. Because even here, they knew it couldn’t always be like this. But despite all that life would throw at them in the years to come, they would be there for each other, to grow and change, to sail in the same direction, even if not always in the same boat. To make peace with the past, to live in the present, and to look to the future on their own terms.
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Burnt oranges and yellows filled the stone fireplace, the crackling of charred mesquite wood accompanying the dulcet tones of Elvis on the turntable. A fresh pine tree stood in the corner opposite a set of bookshelves, its white lights and a row of candles on the mantlepiece casting a soft glow across the lounge.
By next year, they would have to re-think the room's layout as the shelves were almost out of space. They had transferred all of their old books, records and tapes when they moved in – two poetry books in particular taking pride of place – which now sat alongside newly purchased or gifted titles from the likes of Fernando Vallejo, E.M. Forster, John Rechy, Gloria E. Anzaldúa, Alejo Durán, Linda Ronstadt, K.D. Lang, Vicente Fernández, Walt Whitman, Pedro Almodóvar and Gregg Araki. And no doubt there would be further additions to their collection on Christmas Day.
Luna was the sole canine guest tonight, her bond with Horacio somehow stronger again since Kira’s and Fuego’s arrival. Sol and Leo had grown increasingly fond of their new playmates in the last few months, so it was often the three of them in the cottage nowadays. Horacio hadn’t discussed it with Chucho, but he hoped she would stay with them permanently – and see out her retirement years – once the new cattle were in place.
She lay in her favourite chair, fast asleep with her head on the armrest and oblivious to their return home beyond a drowsy wag of the tail, before resuming her dreams.
“You had a good day, then?” Javier asked from the comfort of Horacio’s shoulder, their arms wrapped around each other as they gently swayed to the music.
Horacio let out a contented hum of approval, burying himself against Javier’s shirt, breathing all of him in. “It was perfect.”
“It was.”
“Although…I think there’s one thing missing.”
“Oh yeah? What’s that?”
“Your present.”
Javier’s chest shook, and something that sounded remarkably like “You fucker” was sworn against the crook of Horacio’s neck, followed by a sharp nip of the teeth.
“It’s only fair.” Horacio tried to keep an authoritative edge to his tone. But it was far from convincing when he ended up laughing as much as Javier.
“Actually…it’s only fair if you wear your hat too.” Another neck bite, accompanied this time by a trail of kisses along the open collar of Horacio’s red plaid shirt, shoving the bandana aside for easier access. “Deal?”
Horacio’s back arched involuntarily, the rumble threatening to escape from his throat tempered into an elongated sigh instead. Not much of a win, but he’d take it. “Deal.”
And so Javier fetched the Stetsons from the coat hook in the hallway whilst Horacio switched records once Elvis had finished.
Javier lowered Horacio’s hat into place, encouraging Horacio to do the same with his.
“Satisfied?” Javier asked once they resumed their embrace, the cumbia beats of Lucho Bermúdez now replacing Elvis.
Horacio’s fingers slid from Javier’s waist to the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward until their lips met and the brims of their hats jutted together. “I am now…cowboy.”
They let another vinyl play before undressing, every movement sensual and considered as they removed boots and unbuckled belts between slow, thorough kisses. With hats relegated to the couch for now, Javier untied the silk bandana from Horacio’s neck, teasing smooth fabric along the nape and tossing it to the floor, revealing faded tan lines from the unforgiving summer months. Buttons from their plaid shirts were next, followed by jeans and underwear, chestnut lost in charcoal as they stood bare in each other’s arms but for the silver and gold pendants.
Neither felt the need to give into temptation, not yet, at least. Instead, they put on another record and danced, hand in hand, skin against skin, soul against soul. Because they were never in a rush anymore; now they had all the time in the world. Now they were home.
#Narcos fic#Narcos#Javier Peña#Horacio Carrillo#Carrillo#Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo#Pedro Pascal#Maurice Compte#Narcos fanfic#Narcos fanfiction#Narcos fan fic#My Fan Fic#My Narcos Fic
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Longing
Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost
A/N: This is a collection of !!!!5!!!! asks because y’all are desperate for Javier being a great husband and lover, and I am happy to give you what you crave.
Summary: You make love to your husband the first time after giving birth.
Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader/You (No y/n)
Tags: +18 smut, husband!javier, domestic life, breastfeeding, f masturbation, showering together, insecurity and nervousness, longing kisses and lots of them, body worship, breast play, lactation kink, javier is HUNGRY, nipple play orgasm, checking in, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, praise kink, fingering, clit stim, unprotected piv sex, emotional and desperate sex, creampie, crying and aftercare, sweet javi is here to make you comfortable and make you come
Word count: 5.3k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53944708
Longing
Javier gets up early every day for work during your maternity leave and the routine is the same; coffee, breakfast, and a shower, and then he gets Lucas out of his bassinet so he can feel his son’s tiny body against his naked chest before he finally brings him to you because he knows you love bed-sharing with your newborn. It’s so you don’t miss me, he jokes each time after kissing your forehead, knowing that his son might as well be his clone, at least not too much.
You’re nursing Lucas as Javier gets dressed. Today will be the first break in your newfound routine, and you barely know how to begin. Something is playing on your mind and you distract yourself by running three fingers over Lucas’ head as he feeds, hoping it’ll make the words you’re about to say seem less clumsy.
“Javi,” you try to get your husband’s attention.
“Sí, mi amor (yes, my love)?” Javier is standing in front of the mirror, tying his tie. He looks at you through the mirror and smiles gently as he catches Lucas’ tiny hands reaching for your chest. You let the infant grab at your finger instead, warmth in your grin as you bond with him.
“I was thinking we could do something tonight,” you begin and your voice sounds almost absentminded. It feels silly to ask for sex when you think back to how ravenous both of you were before and during the pregnancy. Lucas is nearly two months old. You haven’t been intimate with each other for two months.
“Do what?” Javier goes back to tying a knot on his ridiculously patterned tie.
“You know…”
He tenses up, almost looking like when a cat’s ears perk up in interest.
“Is tonight the night?” He asks, catching on. He turns away from the mirror to face you, expectant but careful not to assume.
“Two months,” you say simply, “I think I’m ready.”
“Two whole months. How the fuck did we manage that?” He snorts. You tut at his foul language but cannot help but smile since you know he is right. It boggles your mind too.
“We’ll have to take it slow. Would that be okay?” You look down at Lucas as he gurgles slightly, moving him a bit in your arms.
Javier finishes dressing for the day. He walks across the room and bends down over you, kissing your forehead, “Is it okay that I get to take care of my beautiful wife? I think I’ll suffer through it for you.”
When you tilt your head backward, he also kisses your mouth. You smile against his lips. You say, “I think you’re late for work.”
“And maybe I’ll go home early too,” he pecks your lips repeatedly, “Rush home and into the bedroom.”
“We’ll be waiting here for you,” you let him know.
Javier runs a finger down over Lucas’ nose, “Your momma better change the batteries in the baby monitor, mijo (my son). We won’t have time to check on you as often.”
“Oh, just go,” you grin.
“Te quiero (I love you).”
“I love you too, now go catch some bad guys.”
Javier gives you one last kiss before he heads out the door, and it’s enough to leave you aching for another. He lingers until your breath is torn from your lungs, slips his tongue inside your mouth until you are reminded of what he can do with it, and his fingers slide through the hair at the back of your head - all he has to do is yank but he doesn’t, not with his baby in your arms.
“More later,” he whispers and your pulse goes south at the promise.
“O-okay,” you only manage to stutter.
—
When Lucas has been put to sleep, Javier and you take a warm bath together to get you all relaxed. He helps you under the spray, guiding you into the cubicle by the hand, and smiles as you sigh deeply at the warm water.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he praises when you run your fingers through your hair as it wets. You give him a shy grin. He proceeds to kiss your neck, not caring about water running down over his face when his lips on your body make you less tense with nerves.
You tilt your head back, letting out a sigh as he drinks in your skin, going upwards until it is your mouth he captures. His hands dig into your fuller hips, fingers denting what you call your baby weight and what he tells you he’d fall on his knees for.
“Can I touch you?” He asks when he needs air.
“I’m nervous,” you answer truthfully.
Carefully, as if seeking permission, he takes your hand in his own. He kisses your palm softly and you feel a spark of electricity in your belly, knowing that you are lucky that it is him who is here to guide you through this. He moves your hand down between your legs, “Perhaps… these gentle hands.”
“You want me to touch myself?” You blink.
“Who would be better?” He grins boyishly.
A part of you wants to say that you think he might know you better than you know yourself but there’s a plan here. You follow through, never breaking eye contact as you find your clit and start going in circular motions. It takes a second but when your body finally reacts, you let out a gasp at the flutter that spreads out from the little nub.
Javier looks ravenous at having the privilege to witness you like this. He talks quietly over the sound of the water, and soon you feel his cock poke into your thigh, “That’s it, mi amor (my love). God, look at you. Doing so good.”
“Javi,” you sigh gently. Your fingers speed up, feeling your heartbeat slowly increasing in speed. You chase your high, mouth slightly open and eyes locked on Javier’s.
“Yeah? You’re gonna make yourself come?” Javier’s hands find your hips again. He holds them in place, joins in the way that he can. You nod with a higher-pitched yeah, eyes falling closed during a louder moan.
Your fingers are more frantic after that. You touch yourself with him looming over you, core burning with need as you can feel his eyes bore into you. Your clit jumps occasionally as you work yourself toward the edge and a crease in your forehead forms.
“I’m gonna— fuck,” you announce. The sound of water cascading down your body blurs until it becomes almost silent to your ears.
“Yes, you are,” his voice has dropped an octave, “Oh, you really are, aren’t you?”
And then you snap and the fact that it isn’t in privacy and that you have Javier swearing under his breath makes it feel incredible. You can feel your cunt clench from clit to slit repeatedly, seeking more than you can give at the moment but oh, it feels so good. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted your husband inside of you more, walls aching to be stretched.
Time stands still in the shower. You find yourself resting against the cold, tiled wall. Javier looks at you, has pushed his wet hair out of his face, and is smiling triumphantly, “Mi esposa hermosa (my gorgeous wife).”
You roll your eyes, cheeks heating up from both post-orgasmic bliss and sudden shyness, “It felt good. I don’t think you know how wet I am for you.”
“Well you are in the shower,” he jokes when he spots your restraint, hoping to get you to relax even further, and you step forward to punch him playfully. He shies away, laughing to the point where your head swims with love and tenderness for him.
It ends up being an occasion to kiss once more. Javier holds your face, thumb smoothing over your chin as he slides his mouth over yours. You melt into him, holding onto both of his wrists as you suck on his tongue and it doesn’t bother you that you accidentally swallow a few droplets of water; his lips on yours make everything else fade.
He has rarely kissed and touched you like this over the past few months, having agreed with himself to not tempt you too much with something that neither of you would have been able to follow through on, so the promise behind his touch - his hands are going down to your hips and your arms are linking together around his neck - makes you shiver as goosebumps rise on your skin underneath the hot spray of water.
Eventually, you realize how hard he is and you almost feel bad for being so selfish but when you reach down, Javier stops you.
“I can wait,” he promises, breaking the kiss to look down between your bodies. He twitches in your hand, even more when you reluctantly let go.
“Javi,” you whine.
“I don’t want it to be over already,” he explains with color on his cheeks, “Think about how much we’ll enjoy it later. I’m sorry, mi amor (my love).”
“No, I understand,” you reply with a soft sigh, “I’ll make it up to you later.”
“Mhm, bet you will,” he hums and then drags you close to kiss you again.
You agree on finishing the shower and getting into your sleep clothes because Javier argues that it might help with your nerves to be undressed by him, a thing you absolutely love. You settle for a loose t-shirt - in case you have to nurse - and panties, something comfortable with an ability to leave the covered parts of your body up to the imagination.
Earlier, before checking on Lucas, you took painkillers to let your muscles relax even further. Now that they are working, you meet him in bed. He smiles at you as he sees you enter through the door and watches you come closer as he is sitting with one leg dangling from the side of your shared bed.
“Hey,” you say shyly.
“Come here,” he smiles.
You may have relaxed muscles but your heartbeat races in your chest, feeling like you might have butterflies trapped behind your ribs. Your body is humming as you crawl onto the bed, sitting on your knees in front of him.
“You still want to do this?” He asks, taking one of your wrists in his hands. He rubs it with his thumb, giving you his usual concerned expression that could compete with that of a puppy.
“Yes,” you confirm, leaning forward to initiate a kiss.
He catches on quickly and meets you halfway. He tastes like toothpaste, kissing you softly at first before he grows hungry from having denied himself during the first touches in the shower.
You sling your arms around him, just about to be bold enough to straddle him but he is quicker, and suddenly flips you around until your back hits the mattress and makes you bounce slightly. You respond with a half-yelp, half-giggle, and try to ignore any anxiety that might arise.
However, any noise quickly dies in your throat because Javier moves on top of you. He moves close until you can get drunk on his scent, inhale the distinct smell of only him that gets you so high because you know it’s only you who gets to be so close to it. You can feel your heartbeat in your sex, your underwear starting to dampen.
“You know I struggle to be gentle,” he rasps against your ear, placing a lingering kiss right below it to make your heartbeat spike. His hands curl around the bottom of your t-shirt. He pulls back to look at what he is doing to you and for a moment, you think he might rip the fabric apart from the way his nails dig into it, the same urgency in his eyes like someone who has gone without food and drink for weeks and is now looking at a whole buffet, “When it’s been so long since I have had you like this.”
You hum in understanding, mouth slightly open and squeezing your legs together with a sigh, causing Javier to look down between your legs. He looks like someone who is making a plan, a list of steps forward about what he wants to do to you. You can only wait in anticipation.
Your top comes off then. He yanks it upwards and you lift your arms above your head to help him rid you of it completely. Your tits bounce slightly as there is nothing to hold them anymore, and Javier groans at the sight of you. He practically latches onto your neck, sucking his way down your throat until he has made a trail of glistening spit down over your shoulder, your collarbone, and finally down between your breasts. It’s nice but it’s a lot.
“Stop,” you say to him as he seems lost in the moment. You rest your hands on the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the soft curls there. He lifts his head to look at you, and you smile gently. Your face feels hot, “I need you to go slow… Sorry, I’m not ruining it, am I? I just told you to stop…”
“What? No. No, mi amor (my love),” he reassures but even if his kisses have made you wet, you feel overwhelmed with the idea that things might not be the same ever again. You shift slightly underneath him, and he presses a soft kiss to your collarbone whilst watching your expression in case it’s still uncomfortable for you.
“I think it might take a while for me to be ready tonight, I can’t just jump back in,” you swallow after confessing it but Javier nods in understanding.
“That’s okay, baby. It’s only been two months,” he crawls up to hover over you, abandoning whatever he was doing even if he was enjoying it, and you still rest your hands on the back of his neck.
“I mean you’re so,” you decide to feed his ego to make your reluctance up to him even if it’s not necessary, “… Big.”
Javier snorts. He seems to find it more funny than flattering, “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah,” you giggle, “Biggest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Listen,” he turns serious, resting on one of his forearms to reach for your hand on the back of his head. He pulls it down so he can hold your hand in his. He entwines your fingers, “Do you want to stop? I won’t get angry at you.”
“And not even try?” You avoid his gaze.
“Hey, mírame (look at me),” he replies and you do, “If that’s what you want. No matter what you say, we made progress tonight.”
“I masturbated in the shower,” you deadpan.
Javier laughs but he kisses your lips a few times, “And it was fucking sexy. I’ll be satisfied with just watching that for the rest of my life if I had to, but I do like the thought of Lucas not being an only child.”
“Slow down, Peña,” you teasingly scold him, feeling your anxiety fade as he makes you laugh and thus relax, “You just got your first baby. I am not a factory.”
“What are you then?” He wiggles his brows.
“Your wife,” you say with a grin.
“Oh, right, that’s right,” he moves to kiss your neck again and you find that you let him. He moves slower than before, trailing his lips across your throat from one shoulder to the other. He takes his time and doesn’t rush the way that he probably would like to, “That’s right, you’re my wife.”
“Husband,” you moan softly and feel him smile against your skin. He goes further down and goosebumps rise on your skin when the flat of his tongue licks around one of your nipples. You push your chest out, needing more because it starts a fire in your belly. To think that he hadn’t even gotten this far just moments ago.
“You like that?” He asks, pressing a kiss to the side of your right breast. He looks up at you through his lashes before he licks the little nub again, it has hardened into a peak. The nerves are so sensitive there now that you are breastfeeding, and you hadn’t even given it a second thought that it could be something to enjoy with him.
“Yeah,” you sigh and stare down at the top of his head. He moves to bend your legs, spreading them apart so he can lie down between them and kiss your tits.
“I can’t wait to see how wet this’ll get you, baby,” he murmurs as he concentrates. He starts with the right side, letting his mouth fall open until he can press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your nipple and suck just a little as he pulls back. He does it again. You curl your toes and whine.
“Oh,” you are panting already from the connection it appears to have with your cunt, “Keep going.”
Javier doesn’t hesitate. He skims his hand up and down your side until he dares cup your breast, looking up at you for confirmation that you aren’t uncomfortable. You bite your lip and nod.
Your husband applies the gentlest amount of pressure. He doesn’t remove his hand again, keeping your breast in his palm as he takes your nipple between his lips once more. However, this time he sucks without pulling away, and much to your surprise, as he massages you too, you feel a few drops of milk slip into his mouth.
“Javi!” You say in a horrified voice, starting to squirm, “I’m so sorry. Oh my God, ohmygodohmygodohmy—“
But Javier only seems to be spurred on by this. In fact, he starts to coax out more milk to satisfy the hunger that he didn’t even know he had in him. You hear him mumbling something, telling you not to worry about it. He sucks, laps, and catches each drop that escapes his mouth and streaks your beautiful chest whilst your eyes roll back and your clit throbs.
Your hands find his hair. You tug without making him pull away from you, and pressure builds as his skilled tongue moves in circles around your now-puffy nipple. He takes the peak between his lips again and again, the sound of wet kisses towards skin filling the room, and he drinks like he is parched.
Eventually, you feel too tender to go on and something inside of you fears that you might actually come from this even if it seems ridiculous to be terrified of that happening. You don’t think you have ever had breasts this sensitive in your life, and whilst it has been nice for you to have Javier pay attention to your chest, this is new territory and it’s overwhelming above all else.
The grip you have on his hair intensifies, “Baby. Can you switch? I’m getting sore.”
“Of course,” he draws back slowly and gently noses along your spit-slicked nipple and presses one last soft kiss. You twitch underneath the touch.
“Javi,” you stress.
But he follows through and switches over to the left. The sensation of him using his tongue on you here as well is exquisite, eliciting a string of higher and higher moans from your throat.
God, he knows what he is doing with his mouth and soon wetness has started to smear your inner thighs after seeping through your underwear. You know Javier will lose his mind when he sees it.
Though right now, he is busy as his tongue flicks repeatedly across the hardened nub. Milk trails down your stomach at first and then suddenly squirts when he pinches your right nipple without warning.
“Oh!” You gasp and feel your pulse getting stronger between your legs. You lift your head, “Jesus. This is—“
“The hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he interrupts you as if he knows you are going to degrade yourself in some way. You were in fact going to call it messy. He kisses your breast open-mouthed again, sucking your nipple into his mouth until you give in to a moan, “¡Dios mío (my God)! You taste like candy. Sweetest fuckin’ thing ever.”
“You need to—“ you can barely speak as his tongue curls around your hardened peak. He flicks his tongue back and forth over it afterward.
“Yes?” He stops to let you talk and nibbles right at the roundness of your breast.
“I can’t do this anymore, we gotta do something else or I’ll come,” you don’t even hear how absurd it is to make it sound like a problem. Below you, Javier nearly chokes at hearing that.
“Jesus, how devastating that would be,” he says sarcastically. With a quick glance up at you, he decides to keep going to which you do not protest. He lavishes you with nips and sucks, building something low in your belly, “Then come, mi vida (my life).”
You try to catch your breath as your cunt pulses but suddenly an orgasm crashes over you and makes you lose it altogether. There’s milk everywhere. You cry for him after a moment of not being able to make a sound, hands falling to the sides so you don’t end up pulling strands of hair from his scalp. Your back arches, your throat scratches from the noise you make, and below you, Javier watches with absolute wonder.
“Are you okay?” He eventually asks, sitting up a little to follow your wishes if you should have any. When you don’t respond, too busy panting, he starts rubbing your thighs soothingly until you come back to him.
“That’s never happened before,” you say, “I didn’t think…”
“Was it good?” He watches you with a tiny smirk.
You nod.
“Do you want more?” He continues.
You don’t hesitate despite the circumstances. Twenty minutes ago, you would have doubted even being kissed. You nod.
“And what does my baby want?” He looks down between your legs. When you don’t reply, he starts suggesting things, “Want me to play with your perfect pussy? We can stop anytime you want.”
You whimper instead of using actual words. It’s now that you realize the pressure inside of you telling you how much you need to feel him inside of you, and you’ll take it any way you can. Perhaps it’ll be easier to start out this way.
“Yeah?” He sounds almost a bit mocking, moving to stand on his knees between your spread legs, “That what my girl wants?”
“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly.
Javier swears quietly as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down and watching the fabric cling to your wet seam. He inhales deeply as if to compose and behave himself, looking starved for more even as he already has a streak of white milk on his chin, “You are so goddamn wet for me, baby. She’s weeping, the poor thing.”
“Imagine how many men would worship the shape of your body,” he praises as soon as he has you naked below him, eyes glazed over by lust. He looks at you as if it’s the first time he has ever seen you, pupils dilated and mouth slightly open. You feel like a deer in the headlights of a car but you don’t dare interrupt him, don’t dare disturb the flow of words falling from his lips because they make your whole body burn with need instead of insecurity.
“I can’t believe that I was the one who got to make you my wife,” he tells you with a smile that shows you how pleased he is with himself as if it’s his greatest achievement - fuck everything else; the job, the money, the fame. He skims a hand over your belly before leaning down to kiss below your belly button, causing your muscles to jump underneath his warm mouth when he licks you clean of milk. Then his palm descends on your body, “Mhm, gonna show you how grateful I am. Stuff you full of my fingers.”
“Please,” you whine, jaw clenching as he slips a finger inside of you and tiny shivers seem unable to stop rolling over you. He straightens again to look at you for reassurance that everything is okay. You give him no reason to doubt.
After a few moments, he adds a second finger. He curls them upwards until he finds the little spot inside of you that makes you sing, and your hands grab at the sheets when he makes a come-hither motion over and over again.
“Javi,” you breathe desperately.
“Yes?” He doesn’t halt, only slows down slightly to concentrate on what you are going to ask of him. The look in his eye tells you that he’ll give you anything.
“I love you,” you moan towards the ceiling instead. The wet squelches of your cunt are obscene to listen to, bouncing off the walls along with your continuous gasping for air as he makes you unable to breathe properly.
“I know, baby, I know. I love you too,” he grinds the heel of his hand down against your mound, reminding you briefly of how he made love to you the first time ever. He rubs your clit on the outside and works the pads of his fingers over your g-spot on the inside. Fast. The world fades away around you until you suddenly find yourself coming again, Javier’s eyes widening at how quickly you have gotten there once more, “Christ, baby. You are just insatiable tonight. Has it been too long?”
“I want you,” you completely ignore the question. You shake through your high, not even planning on begging but it’s almost too much not to have him fuck you, “I can— ah, I can take your cock. I can. Please. I need you inside of me.”
Javier growls. He shoves his underwear down, moving on the bed for a moment until he is completely naked. You reach for him with newfound confidence, and he enters your embrace and slides both arms underneath you to hug you back. The kiss he gives you is so longing that you almost want to cry from all the emotion it exudes. He loves you so much. He would never do anything to hurt you. It is so clear at that moment.
“Make love to me,” you moan into his mouth, thumbs drawing down the sides of his face until you can move your hands to the nape of his neck. He is warm against your chest, the curls at the back of his neck slightly damp from sharing your body heat for so long.
It takes a mere few seconds for him to reach down between your bodies. You make a little gasp as he pushes into you. He is slow in his movements, almost making it seem like he isn’t moving his hips forward at all, and he keeps his eyes on yours to make sure your face’s contortion isn’t because of pain.
You grab at the pillowcase, clutching it into your grip as he fills you up. Your breathing is loud and hard, your eyes a little wider than usual. There’s a little resistance but you try to relax into it, accept his cock even if it’s with trembles of your body.
“This okay?” He asks with a voice that is marked by his own restraint.
You nod repeatedly. You want to punch the bed. Instead, you reach to grab his bicep and hold on for dear life as he gets deep inside of you. You aren’t sure if you have overdone it by coming two times already because you are so sensitive, your walls fluttering around his length but oh, you want him so badly that you take it with your eyes rolling back into your skull.
After a few very long moments, he is fully inside of you. His chest rises and falls quickly, breathing strained because of how much he has missed being engulfed by your heat. You hold onto his arms which flex underneath your touch, and then he moves inside of you for the first time in two months.
The cry that releases from your throat makes your voice break and Javier’s groan follows right after. You become a sweaty mess of limbs, clutching at each other as if you can’t get close enough. You pant his name, kiss him deeply, and dig your fingers into his skin hard enough to bruise.
“I’ve missed you,” you tell him through whimpers.
“You’re perfect, mi amor (my love),” he replies in a gruff voice, “I love to fuck you.”
Javier cannot help his mouth when you make him feel like this. He thrusts harder into you, moving his weight to his forearm so he can slide his free hand under you to press it against the small of your back. He lifts your pelvis into his own, arching you until no one would be able to tell where he starts and you finish.
Then he speeds up his hips and you see stars. You throw both arms around him, holding onto your wrist to keep them there. He drives into you with determination to make you scream, and as you do, you try to imagine how beautiful his golden back is glistening with sweat.
“Fucking love making you come,” he continues, planting a kiss on your jaw that was probably supposed to be on your mouth, “Over and over and over. Are you gonna come for me?”
“Yes, yes, God, yes, baby,” you can feel his pubic bone grinding into your clit, building your peak quickly, “Keep going— don’t, oh my God, don’t stop!”
“Wouldn’t dream— fuck, I wouldn’t dream of it, my love,” he sounds close to, giving you everything he has to make you tip over the edge a third time. He always tells you how much he loves you choking his cock until he spills inside of you.
So when you come, a hitched breath turning into a series of cries for God, he does too. It is two months of built-up tension and emotions, and you find yourself crying in his arms as waves of pleasure take hold of you and take you with them. You are gone, lost to the world of burning desire and ecstasy.
After he pulls out of you, the sense of time is an unknown concept in the silence that follows. You cry quietly because nothing else can convey what you feel. After all, you feel so close to him again. Javier brushes each tear away with his thumb, murmuring soft and comforting words.
“You did so good,” are the first words that actually make sense to you. He noses along your shoulder to kiss you there, “I don’t deserve you. You are the most beautiful woman in this world.”
You chuckle breathlessly but fresh tears just fall down your cheeks. Javier rolls off of you to make things less intense, looking at you from where he is lying on his side, “Don’t cry. There’s nothing to cry about. You were so beautiful.”
“Sorry,” you say instantly and wipe tears away with the back of your hands.
“No,” he objects, “That’s not what I meant.”
He is silent for a moment. Then he lays his palm on your stomach, “What do you need?”
“To pee and get cleaned up,” you feel embarrassed without knowing why, “My legs feel like jelly.”
“Fuck it, let’s see if mine do too,” he is on his feet before you can protest, telling you to scoot closer and when you do, he picks you up bridal style.
He carries you to the bathroom, making a comment about your wedding night, and then lets you pee and wipes you down with a damp cloth afterward, both your sensitive cunt and breasts. You kiss him more times than you can count when he takes you back to bed again.
In the morning, you watch him bounce Lucas in his arms when he thinks you are asleep. He is making funny faces and blowing raspberries on your son’s chubby cheeks, talking so gently that you can’t help but simply roll onto your other side, smile gently to yourself, and fall back into slumber.
.
.
.
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Funny How Time Flies (When You’re Having Fun)
Pairing: Javier Peña x Married Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ content, minors DNI, smutty smut, infidelity, dirty talk, oral sex(f+m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, creampie
Word count: 2.4k
Summary: Javier doesn’t give a damn about your husband’s feelings and comes back for seconds.
A/N: I’ve been listening to this song nonstop and just felt like writing some Javier Peña smut. Please like, comment, and reblog!
How’d you end up back here?
You knew what would happen as soon as you stepped foot inside his apartment.
You couldn't believe you were back at Javier's place, in his bed, making out with him like a horny teenager.
There was a fire in you that used to blaze brightly, but with each passing married year, the flame faded darker. That is, until you met Javier Peña. The instant he introduced himself, he had you wrapped around his finger, and that once dark flame flared into a scorching orange so fierce it would burn your husband's eyes right out of their sockets.
Javier rocked your world in more ways than one, and who in their right mind would give something like that up?
Javier dropped by your workplace with the excuse that he had gotten an anonymous tip that some of Escobar's guys had been spotted there. You knew it was a lie. He just wanted to see you again. You had been ignoring his phone calls out of guilt for what you two had done, but something deep inside you missed him. In a way, you needed him, and he knew it. So you agreed to drive over to his place once your shift was done.
To talk.
You shifted your weight, draping a leg over Javier's, straddling him, and— fuck, Javier was as hard as a rock. You could feel the length of him through his tight blue jeans, and you pulled back, giving both of you a moment to catch your breath.
You slid your fingers through his hair when you kissed him again and gently tugged at the brown tresses as you rocked your hips down into his, seeking friction that made both of you gasp. Javier pressed his forehead against yours, drinking your air and clinging to your body as tightly as you clung to his.
You broke the kiss, cupping his face as you gazed into his chestnut-brown eyes and said, guilty, “We probably shouldn’t be doing this again.”
He just peered back into your eyes and raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips turning up in a small smirk. You knew he could see right through you. He knew you wanted this. Needed this. Your body reacted loudly to his. You've been craving him for weeks. It had been four long weeks since he had last fucked you, and your body ached for him.
“You want me to stop?” he whispered.
You shook your head no quickly, not realizing how hungry you were for his touch. Was it wrong for you to be this down bad for a man who wasn't your husband? Yes. Was it your fault that your husband repeatedly pushed you away and hadn't touched you in twelve months? No. At the very least, Javier was willing to give you what your body desired. And boy, was he good at it.
Javier knew that you were married, but he couldn't care less. Especially after discovering that your husband was not treating you properly. He often tried to ease your nerves about your sexcapades, but the guilt persisted most of the time.
Javier just leaned in and kissed you again, keeping it gradual and letting his hand curve around the middle of your back as you kissed him back, enthusiastically, passionately, and with so much heat that it damn near made the both of you dizzy.
Your hands hovered at the hem of his shirt, but only for a moment before you pulled it up and over his head. Javier tugged on your eggshell-colored blouse, untucking it from your pink pencil skirt, and yanked it off, unclamping your bra before your top could hit the floor.
He cupped both your breasts in his hands, squeezing them tight as he sucked a nipple into his mouth, switching between tugging on it gently and flicking it with the tip of his tongue.
“Javier,” you moaned, panting lightly.
As he repeated the motion with your other nipple, you let out a desperate whine. As your clit throbbed, the wet patch on your underwear grew larger.
You tugged him to the edge of the bed, then slid down his body to the floor, crouching between his legs, and stroked his still-clothed cock once, twice, three times before Javier finally lifted his hips and unbuckled his belt.
You helped with slipping his pants and underwear over his hips, down his legs, and around his ankles. Javier let out a little groan as your fingers wrapped around his bare thigh and around his thick cock, leaning forward to drag your tongue across the oozing tip.
The sight of him on the bed, all loose and charming, ignited an upsurge of warmth through your body. You couldn't remember ever wanting someone so badly.
You tongued the slit, licking the bulb of precum that had gathered there, moaning in delight as the sweet, zingy flavor flooded your tastebuds. When you glanced up at Javier through your eyelashes, he was already peering down at you, digging his teeth into his bottom lip to suppress a deep groan once you took him in your mouth.
You swirled your tongue around the crown of his cock before taking him deeper into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, enjoying the low whines spilling past his lips.
"Fuuuck," he cursed, "Such a good girl." His groans rose louder as he basked in the exquisite heat of your mouth. His noises and praises merely encouraged you to take him deeper. You hollowed your cheeks and took him down as far as you could, gagging slightly as the tip of his cock slipped down your throat. You swallowed around him before pulling off some, and he hissed lowly in delight.
“Do you suck Benito’s cock like this?”
You felt a rush of heat spring to your face at the bluntness of his question. He never shied away from mentioning your husband while you two fooled around. You weren't sure why he did it, but a tiny part of you liked it.
“Hell no,” you said as you pulled off his cock with a soft pop to huff a small laugh, “I don’t suck it at all.”
“Bueno,” he chuckled softly, cutting himself off with a deep groan as you squished his cock between the middle of your breasts, stroking the shaft up and down as you took the tip of his cock back between your wet lips, “He doesn’t deserve a mouth like yours anyway.”
You squeezed your breasts together closer around his cock as he fucked up into your mouth, letting out all kinds of curses and filthy noises. You felt your clit throb hard and moaned around him, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.
“Fuuuuck, baby. Nghh— you have to stop or I’ll cum.”
"Okay," you rasped, letting his spit-slicked cock fall out of your mouth. You sat back and stroked him a few times with both hands before rising to your feet to remove your skirt and panties.
Javier stepped out of his pants and underwear, kicking them across the floor, before he stood to help you pull down your skirt and underwear. Once you were naked, he maneuvered you to lay down on your back against the bed, slotting himself between your legs. His thick cock brushed against your clit, and you let out a soft whine.
He kissed your lips once, twice, and then moved his lips down your neck to your chest. He sucked your nipples for a while before moving his lips down your stomach and stopping at your wet cunt.
“You’re already soaked for me and I haven’t even touched you,” he teased.
Javier leaned down, his hands resting on top of your lower stomach, licking a warm stripe up your wet slit, humming in satisfaction as the splendid taste of you filled his palate. He pushed your legs apart further and slung one over his shoulder as he softly kissed your thighs, pressing his teeth into the meat just enough to make you cry out in ecstasy. He discovered last time that you enjoyed the feel of teeth against the most tender parts of your body. As he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, he licked his lips with hunger. His cock jumped as your pussy glistened in his dimly illuminated bedroom.
“Such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praised.
You let out an obscene groan as he curled his lips around your clit, alternating between powerful tugs and twirling licks.
You ran your fingers through his hair to orient yourself. He plunged his tongue inside your hole, shaking his head from left to right, slurping up your sweet wetness. You squirmed and moaned as you ground against his tongue.
He licked his way back up to your clit, sucking hard on the sensitive bud as he slipped two fingers inside of you.
“Oooo baby,” you gasped as he spread his fingers, stretching your cunt so that you would be able to take his fat cock without any problems.
You couldn't decide which aspect of Javier you liked best. His sultry voice, talented tongue, long fingers, or thick cock. For the time being, the answer would just have to be E, all of the above.
“Tell me,” Javier demanded against your cunt, hooking his broad fingers upward and twisting them much faster, you’re so wet squelching noises fill the room.
“Fuck—it feels so good, Javi,” you panted as he placed gentle kisses on your inner thighs. The complete opposite of what his fingers were doing to your cunt. Your thighs trembled as you clenched around his long fingers.
“Javier, I’m gonna cum,” you warned, head thrashing against the pillows, eyes fluttering closed as the tight coil that sat low in your belly began to unravel swiftly.
“You know that I want it,” he purred against your sensitive clit, “Give it to me.”
You were driven home by the combination of his filthy words and the seductive timbre of his voice. Your moans grew louder as he talked you through an orgasm your husband hadn't been able to give you in years. Your fingers pulled at his soft brown waves as you convulsed against the bed.
"Hands and knees," Javier growled as he backed up to give you room to maneuver yourself into the position he liked having you in most.
Javier pulled you back by the waist against his hips once you were in position, aligning his thick cock with your dripping entrance.
You both sighed deeply once he pushed inside, inching in oh so slowly.
He began with a slow rock, his eyes glowing as he looked down to watch your pussy stretch around his cock. He enjoyed fucking you from behind as much as you did. He was a little rougher in this position, and you couldn't get enough of it.
“You take my cock so fucking well, baby,” Javier praised, fucking you harder and deeper, groaning even louder as you rocked back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
Javier's forceful thrusts made your breathing more rapid and your moans louder. He fucked so well. He knew just how rough you needed it.
"Yessss," you whimpered as Javier brushed against that sweet spot deep inside you, toes curling as you rocked back against him much harder, chasing your orgasm. "Just like that, Javi. Please don't stop, baby."
The rougher Javier fucked you, the less guilty you felt about stepping out on your inconsiderate husband.
“I love the way you fuck me, Javier!”
Slapslapslapslapslapslapslapslapslap.
“Who fucks your pussy the best?” He growled, reaching under you to rub circles into your clit. You choked on a sob as your thighs began to shake, unable to answer his question because he was quite literally fucking the air out of your lungs.
“Dime!” He demanded, smacking your asscheek because you didn’t respond fast enough.
“Aaahh!” you cried out as he brought his large hand down against your asscheek again, “Yo—shit— you do Javier!”
You came hard, and you came loud. Javier's neighbors had to have heard you by now, and you couldn't find a fuck to give. Your orgasm ripped through you, instantly sending you to cloud nine. Its power exploded through you, directly to your brain, nearly knocking you unconscious.
“M’gonna cum inside you,” he panted harshly as he hammered inside you, making the headboard slam back against the wall repeatedly, “Tell me why.”
“Be-because—fuuck— because this pussy is yours.” you rasped.
“Damn right, baby.”
“You feel so fucking good,” you whined as he wrapped his arm around your neck and brought you flush against his chest, “Cum for me, Javi.”
"I’m cummin’, baby." Javier warned, panting wildly as his thrusts lost their rhythm and became more erratic. He rocked into you once, twice, three times before spilling inside you with a low, guttural groan, jolting against your back.
You turned your head inward, and he kissed you sloppily, swallowing his groans as you kissed him back just as sloppily, licking into his mouth.
You lost count of time in each other's embrace. Nothing else mattered at the time. Only Javier. You didn't want to leave, but a revolting feeling swept over you as you realized you weren't his to have.
“Shit!” you cursed as you glanced at the clock on his nightstand. It was 4:05am. You and Javier had been rolling around in his sheets for hours. “I wasn’t supposed to stay this late. I have to go.”
He placed a sweet kiss on your shoulder and said, “Don’t go, baby.”
“Oh, I really have to go,” you whispered, biting back a moan as he placed a wet kiss on your neck. You knew what he was doing. He knew that that was your weak spot.
He kissed the middle of your breasts and said, “Stay.”
“Stop,” you let out a small giggle as he playfully motorboated your breasts.
“Quédate un poco más,” he chuckled lowly, mischief sparkling in his beautiful chestnut-brown eyes.
“S-stop Javier,” you said weakly, moaning as he sucked your nipple into his mouth.
"Let me eat you out one more time before you go," he whispered, trailing delicate kisses down your chest, stomach, and inner thighs.
“One more time?” you asked, raising a curious eyebrow, as you watched him wedge his head between your thighs.
You would be a damn fool to turn down head from Javier. His skills were far too immaculate to be shooed away.
He just nodded his head and wrapped his talented lips around your clit, making you once again, putty in his hands.
#userwakandas-vibranium#Javier Peña#javier peña smut#javier peña x female reader#javier peña x reader#javier peña x f!reader#javier peña x you#javier peña x y/n#javier peña narcos#javier peña fic#javier peña fanfic#javier peña fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal characters#my fics#Pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x y/n#javier pena#javier pena x y/n#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena smut#javier pena narcos#javier pena x you#javier pena x reader#javier pena imagine#javier pena one shot#javier peña imagine#Spotify
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☆MASTERLIST☆
Pedro Pascal
One Shot:
♡A kitchen disaster
♡Just let it go…
♡New job, new problems...
♡Just breathe
Series:
♡His Curls - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 (completed)
♡Hate run, love speed - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress)
♡We don’t love each other - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 - Final (completed)
Request:
♡A perfect day for a perfect girl (It's your birthday and Pedro makes you feel loved and special all day)
Headcanon:
♡What sleeping position do they most like when you are with them? (Pedro Pascal characters)💤
♡How will they react to your makeup? (Pedro Pascal and his characters) 👁️👄💅
♡Headcanon: How do they behave when you have a migraine? (Pedro Pascal characters)🩹😴 (+ Dave and Marcus)
♡Headcanon: How will they react if you tell them about CDD? (Pedro Pascal characters) 👰💔😱🤕
♡Headcanon: Who will be ready to kill for you? From most willing to least... (Pedro Pascal characters) 🔪💀☠️🩸
♡Headcanon: How do they cook for you? (Pedro Pascal characters) 🥕🧑🍳🍓
Joel Miller
One Shot:
♡This is just a nightmare… (The Last of Us ff/ Joel/Ellie)
♡Strong for both of us
♡Trouble with ex
♡Dyeing your hair…
Series:
♡Unforgivable mistake, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7 Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12 (in progress)
♡I can't be everywhere (No outbreak!) Part 1 , Part 2, Part 3, Part 4... (in progress)
Request:
♡You need a better place (Joel loving a girl with epilepsy)
♡Blue dress (Joel Miller x plus size!reader)
Headcanon:
♡When Joel goes limp… (JoelMillerxf!reader)🤷🍆🩹
Javier Peña
One Shot:
♡I’ll protect you… (bc you’re mine)
♡I’ll hurt you… ( bc you’re mine )
♡I’ll leave you (bc youre not mine)
♡I'll stay with you... ( bc I love you)
♡You’re hot…
♡A girl from the street
Series:
♡Dancing With Your Ghost - Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Epilogue (completed)
♡Too many shadows behind you - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (in progress)
Headcanon:
♡Nicotine (JavierPeña and You)
Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels)
Series:
♡Dynasty - Part 1, Part 2, (in progress)
One Shot:
♡Mean (JackDanielsxf!reader)
Javi Gutierrez
One Shot:
♡Too hot
Frankie Morales
One Shot:
♡Lost cat
Marcus Pike
One Shot:
♡"7.44 am"
Oberyn Martell
Series:
♡Red Viper and Fox - Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 (in progress, soon english version)
One Shot:
♡♕Queen's Milk
♡I Hold You
♡Remember me… (ANGST!)
The Old Guard (movie)
One Shot:
♡ Amira
♡ It hurts like hell
#masterlist#my fanfiction#my wriring#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#javier pena x reader#joel miller#narcos#the last of us#the game of thrones#oberyn martell#the old guard#Immortal husbands#joe and nicky#joel and ellie#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller and you#tlou fic#pedro pascal headcanon#pedro pascal characters#agent peña#agent whiskey#agent whiskey fanfiction#jack daniels fanfiction#jack daniels x reader#kingsman the golden circle#javi gutierrez#javi g x reader
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day sixteen - dp in one hole
pairing: javier peña x f!reader
word count: 885
warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; double penetration, fingering, sex toys, unprotected sex, creampie
• kinktober 2023 masterlist •
“C’mon, cielito, you can take more.” Javier’s voice was raspy as he spoke to her, dark eyes fixed on his cock buried inside of her pussy, adding more lube before slowly working his fingers in alongside it.
She whined, back arching off the bed as she felt his fingers stretch her open wider, the sensation burning and stinging, trying to keep her legs open for him.
“S’too much, Javi.”
His eyes found her flushed face, cheeks wet with tears, eyes screwed shut. But no sign that she didn’t want this.
“Wanna see you all stretched out for me, bebesita. See your pretty pussy stretched around two cocks.” The excitement in his voice overwhelmed her as he spoke, his hips trying to stay still but rutting forward slightly, moving along his fingers inside her. “Gonna look so fucking sexy for me.”
Just when she thought she couldn't possibly take more, he managed to slide in another thick finger, making her bite her bottom lip so hard she almost drew blood. It felt good, him testing her limits, working her up to take the small dildo that laid next to them. The thought of two cocks inside of her was almost enough to make her cum.
“Javi- Fuck, please.” She whimpered, feeling his fingers slip out again when he was convinced that she could take it. Feeling somewhat empty suddenly, even with his thick cock still inside of her.
“Don’t worry, bebesita.” Javier almost cooed, voice quiet, lubing up the hot pink toy. More excited than her, it had been his idea after all. “Gonna feel full again in a moment.”
Using more lube on her aching hole, he moved back a little, so only the tip of him was engulfed by her, pressing the silicone head against her as well. He watched her for a moment, her flushed skin, her hand covering her eyes, the other tangled in the sheets.
Looking so beautiful, so willing to do this for him.
Slowly he pressed inside, moving the toy alongside him. Registering every small whimper and moan from her, gently sinking in deeper, feeling her pussy give in, stretched tightly around him. He couldn’t hold back the loud groan that left him, deciding to stop halfway.
The sight of her pussy, wet and stretched open had a small huff of an incredulous laugh escape him, so damn obscene and only his to see.
“How’s it feel, bebesita?” He asked, giving her a moment to adjust, her hips squirming on the mattress. “You feel fucking amazing to me.”
She took deep breaths, the sting of it all slowly dissipating into pleasure, his hands coming to smooth over her spread thighs, feeling his eyes on her.
“So full.” It was all she could breathe out, loving the feeling of it all. Never had she imagined herself able to do this, and she moved her hand away from her face, opening her eyes to look at him.
Hungry and ravenous, licking his lips as she looked back at him.
“Should see yourself, little pussy taking two cocks like a champion.” Javier said, moving his hips experimentally, the sensation of the toy sliding along him so foreign but so good, feeling her clench.
She groaned, arching her back.
“Fucking Christ, Javi.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, breathless from the little movements of his, slowly picking up speed, still careful.
Getting lost quickly, tugging and pushing at the silicone dick slightly as he kept fucking into her, his orgasm fast approaching while her obscene moans filled his ears.
“Just like that, bebesita, nice and tight.” He groaned, his hands wandering to the backs of her thighs and opening her more, making her cry out. “Cum for me, squeeze these two cocks nice and hard.”
And she did, tipping over the edge so suddenly at his words, the stretch in her legs only adding to the pleasure she felt of being split open by two cocks, muffling her noises by turning her head to the side and into the pillows as her body trembled.
“Like that, my good, pretty girl.” Javier groaned, only managing a few more thrusts before his orgasm overwhelmed him, burying himself deeper as he spilled himself inside of her. “Filthy, greedy pussy.”
Calming down, she could feel him slip out carefully alongside the toy, feeling painfully empty now, turning her head to look at him again, a shiver running through her at him looking down at her still pulsing pussy.
“Stop ogling, Javier.” She scolded, no real conviction behind her voice, still breathless. Trying to close her legs which were still held open by him.
“You’re way too pretty for that.” He replied, finally looking up at her with a wide grin, letting go of her thighs to smooth them up her body when he leaned over her. Kissing her deeply, hearing her hum. “That was fucking hot, bebesita, gotta do that again.”
She laughed, a hand running through his hair.
“Sure. Think I can take even more than that?”
His eyes went wide for a moment, grin falling in surprise before it returned, even bigger than before.
“Absolutely. Fuck, bebesita, you’re so fucking filthy.”
Just the thought of her taking more had him hard again, so damn grateful to have someone like her to try this with.
#javier peña#javier pena x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena narcos#javier pena x you#javier peña x reader#javier peña x you#javier peña fanfiction#javier peña smut#javier peña fic#narcos#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fandom#kinktober 2023#my writing
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Right For Once
Steve Murphy x F!Reader
For the @narcosfandomdiscord July Smut Alphabet prompt: angry sex
Warnings: 18+, language, smut, choking
Word Count: 2.3k
A/N: Me?? Doing a smut challenge despite typically avoiding writing smut like it's the plague?? It's more likely than you think!! Honestly, I'm super excited to see what I end up coming up with for this challenge. Here's to getting out of our comfort zones in July. 😌 Kicking things off with Steve Murphy because I can lmao
Narcos Taglist: @garbinge @winchestershiresauce @sizzlingcloudmentality @panagiasikelia @616wilsons @hauntedforsst @mirabee @buckybarneshairpullingkink @boomclapxox @nessamc @southotheborder @supersanelyromantic @padbrookcottage @mysun-n-stars @raincoffeeandfandoms @justreblogginfics @ashlingnarcos @proceduralpassion @artemiseamoon @narcolini @cositapreciosa @hausofmamadas (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)
You didn’t know how the two of you had gone from arguing in the car, to arguing while walking up the steps to your place, to suddenly being tangled up and pinned against the closed door of your apartment. The entire drive back to your place, Steve hadn’t had a single good thing to say to you. And you were pissed off enough to reciprocate his energy. The two of you were physically and mentally beat up after how the day had gone, but you weren’t too tired to refrain from picking a fight. It was a real choice, after all, for him to be giving you so much shit about making rash decisions when he’d made quite the habit of waving his gun around in spaces that he shouldn’t.
But now all the snide remarks were being muted as his lips moved against yours, teeth pulling at yours just slightly. His hands were wrapped around your wrists, keeping your arms pinned above your head while he used his torso to keep you pressed tight between him and the door. One of his legs was wedged between yours, and you hated the way that your body automatically responded by grinding against him.
He finally pulled his lips off of yours, dragging your bottom lip just enough to make it sting as he did. You were fighting to catch your breath, your mind in complete disarray from everything, from the day, from the fact that you could feel the warmth of Steve’s breath against your face as he stayed so close to you.
“And I’m the reckless one,” you snapped with a roll of your eyes. Your sarcasm would’ve hit a little harder if you didn’t sound so breathless.
His grip on your wrists tightened. He leaned in, closing what little shred of distance he’d put between you, his nose brushing against yours. “You fuckin’ are.”
You shook your head at him, giving him a little resistance, trying to fight back against his hold on you just enough. It got you nowhere, of course. If anything, it just had him pinning you harder, his hips pressed against yours.
“This is you using good judgment, then?” you asked, knowing that he could hear the smugness in your tone even though his face was too close to yours for him to see it in your expression.
He let go of your wrists, hands dropping so that they were balled into the collar of your shirt instead. Somehow you almost felt more trapped that way even though you had back the use of your hands.
“Do you know what could’ve happened out there? What shit you could’ve fuckin’ landed yourself in? Landed all of us in?”
You leaned back, letting the back of your head tap against the door behind you. “Why don’t you fucking enlighten me, Agent Murphy?”
“Do you think that you weren’t wrong?”
You scoffed, trying to remain as collected as you could given the circumstances. “You’ve made it pretty goddamn clear that I was wrong, Steve.” You paused. “Got a weird way of showing it, but—”
The tic in his jaw was impossible to miss. You could only imagine what he was thinking, the remarks in his head that he wanted to say. You were waiting for it, for the next verbal blow. How he hadn’t exhausted himself between base and your apartment was beyond you.
Instead of coming back with another comment, he pinned you with another bruising kiss. You knew it was coming this time, and while the logical part of your brain was telling you that you should try to quit while you were still half a stride ahead of whatever mess this was about to turn into, another part of you was saying that the way was already an absolute shitshow, so what was one more thing? Steve was already pissed at you about literally everything else, so why not just throw this on the pile? At least this would be something the two of you could be mad about tomorrow, when you were done being mad about everything that had happened today.
One of his hands moved from your collar up to the side of your neck. His thumb pressed just beneath your chin, keeping your head tilted at just the right angle to keep your lips on his. You busied yourself with undoing the buckle of his belt. The slight hitch in his breathing when you started on the button and zipper of his pants wasn’t lost on you.
Bringing your hands up to his chest, you rested your palms flat against him before pushing him back. It wasn’t out of resistance this time, not trying to push him away from you. Both of you were fully resigned to whatever mistake this ended up being now. Your push this time was a direction. Rough guidance, the only kind either of you really knew how to give. And he followed the cue, allowing you to get him back to the couch in the center of your living room.
When Steve felt the backs of his legs press against the sofa, he made a point to stop, to not let you keep pushing. His hands gripped onto your hips, pivoting the two of you so that you now had your back to the couch. He pushed you back just enough for you to fall back onto the cushions and he was on you in an instant.
Before you could take too much time to think about it, your shoes and jeans were on the floor and Steve was hovering over you. It was close, almost cramped quarters on the couch for the two of you, but it’d work. It was fitting. Maybe if he was in the mood to clean up the mess of the day rather than make it worse you would’ve let him fuck you on your bed.
You were pushing his jeans down off his waist just as he was curling his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. He pulled them down your legs at the same time he pulled himself away from you. He only put enough distance between you so that he could take off and cast aside his own clothes. Then he was right back on you, pulling up the bottom hem of your shirt to peel it off over your head. You’d started off undoing the buttons on his shirt, but you only made it about three-fourths of the way before every single type of frustration coursing through you got the better of you and you ripped the remaining few, hearing a couple of them clatter on the floor.
Steve mumbled something against your lips, a sentence you couldn’t quite make out but you knew that he wasn’t thanking you for what you’d just done. Whatever rebuttal you would’ve come up with was lost the second you felt his hand running up the inside of your thigh. The string of curses that you let out under your breath when his fingers slipped between your legs was something he would’ve taken more pride in on a different day under different circumstances.
Your legs were just beginning to tremble when he pulled his hand away. Your head dropped back against the cushion as you muttered an exasperated, “Fuck me.”
Steve let your annoyed statement act as an instruction as he gripped onto your hips and pushed into you. Your legs immediately hooked around his waist, locking him to you. His hips snapped against yours in a way that had you clawing at his back, asking for more with everything but your words. His lips slid down the column of your neck, teeth grazing against the sensitive skin there until they sunk in right where your neck met your shoulder. You arched into him at the contact, nails setting in a little deeper.
You knew from the second he pulled his mouth off of you that there would be a mark left behind when this was all over. Just another piece of the mess. What was one more bruise?
He put enough distance between the two of you so that he could look down at you and really see you. Despite the motions that you were going through, the peculiar intimacy of it all, you could still see and feel the tension between you. Even knowing it wasn’t going to fix the issue, you still didn’t want to stop. A thought crossed your mind in scattered fragments that you would rather take all of Steve’s anger like this, let it be a problem between the two of you that you tried to work out this way, instead of him constantly making his anger everyone else’s problem that he came across. This had to be better than that, right? It certainly felt better for the moment.
His hand slid up your stomach and over your chest, creeping higher until his hand was resting around your throat. He didn’t say anything for a moment, and neither did you. The look on his face asked the question for him, because he was an asshole, sure, and he had been beyond pissed off with you all day, but still. He still hesitated with the silent question.
You were pissed off too. With him and just about everything else. But right now it was just you and him. And as much as you wanted to make things more difficult just for the sake of doing so, you found yourself nodding instead, curiosity beyond piqued at the way things were unfolding.
His hand tightened and your eyes instantly fluttered shut, body arching into him before you even knew what you were doing. Your eyes were closed and you couldn’t see him, but you heard the breathy, “Fuck,” he let out at the sight of you like that. For a brief moment he almost forgot the hell you’d put him through.
He heard the shaky gasp of a breath that you pulled in despite his grip. He could feel the way your body began to tremble the closer you got to release. Your nails bit into his arm, his shoulder, but you weren’t fighting against him. You were just out of ways to pull him closer so you had to settle for that.
Something about the sight of you like that, coming undone beneath him, looking so blissed out despite having no right after all the hell you’d caused, sent him over the edge right after you. His hand slipped away from your throat as he collapsed against you, his face buried in the crook of your neck for a moment as he felt the thudding of your heart, listened to the sound of you sucking in a full breath. Your hands rested on his back, flat, gentle compared to the way you’d been raking your nails against him before.
Once the two of you had started to catch your breath, you let your hands drift so that they were resting against his sides. “Steve?” you said, voice still a bit raspy.
He pulled back, looking down at you with an expression you couldn’t quite piece apart. “Yea?”
“Get the fuck off me.” You started to push him away from you, not roughly, but you needed the breathing space. “Please,” you added on, the ultimate afterthought.
He scoffed and shook his head, but he did what you said. You were pretty sure it was the first time you’d ever seen Steve without something to say. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he gathered his clothes off the floor. He tossed you yours as he came across them, and you shimmied into them the best you could from your current position on the couch.
Once he was dressed, his shirt open at the bottom because of the missing buttons, Steve ran his hands back through his hair. His face was flushed, tinged pink in a way that you might’ve found endearing if you weren’t so annoyed still.
He let out a deep sigh before looking over at you. “So…”
You sat up, swinging your legs off the couch so you were sitting on it properly. Bracing your arms against your thighs, you repeated the word back to him. “So?”
“What,” he gestured vaguely in the air, “the fuck now?”
You shrugged, running your hands down your face. “You can stay and we can keep arguing, or you can leave and we can argue again tomorrow.”
His brows knit. “You don’t think we should talk about—”
“Is it gonna change anything?” you asked, cutting him off. “I mean, really. Is anything actually different now?”
“I mean, yea, I was just fuckin’—” he stopped himself short this time, shaking his head. “You know what? You’re right.” He threw his hands up in defeat.
You let out a sarcastic laugh. “Wow. First time I’ve heard you say that all day.”
“It’s the first time you haven’t been wrong all day,” he rebutted.
You rolled your eyes. “Thanks for making sure I got home safe, Agent Murphy. Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”
You weren’t yelling, but the look on Steve’s face had you thinking that he almost wished that you were. At least then he’d have a reason to respond in kind. Instead, he shook his head as he made his way to the door. He muttered under his breath, “Fuckin’ unbelievable.”
If your head had been a little less foggy, you would’ve gotten the last word in. Instead, all you got was the sound of your apartment door slamming. Letting out a deep sigh, you leaned back against the back of your couch, staring up at your apartment ceiling. On top of everything else, now you had this to deal with too. You’d decide for sure in the morning if it was worth the trouble it caused.
#narcos fandom smut alphabet#nffalphabet#steve murphy#steve murphy x reader#steve murphy x you#x reader#x reader fic#narcos#narcos netflix fanfiction#narcos netflix#narcos fanfiction#angry sex#day 1#my writing#fanfiction#drabblesmc
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