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bisexualiteaa · 8 days

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Domestic Serenity

Soft Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Fem reader

Synopsis: You and Cooper return to your settlement you set up, it being the closest thing you could call a home on those harsh days in the sun and from the rad storms. After too many close run it’s lately out in the wastelands, Cooper comes home from the market to appreciate the closest thing you guys have to a post apocalyptic little slice of domestic life and show you how much he cares about you.

CW: Smut MDNI! Slight OOC Cooper, slight deviance from the show, oral (fem receiving) dirty talk, established relationship, unprotected sex, p in v, irradiated cream pie, p0rn w/o plot, reader has a southern accent, Cooper being a perv, Cooper makes a few crews jokes and one liners to reader

AN: so I’m relatively new to Fallout lore and such, but the hubby and I finished the Fallout TV series a week or so ago and like most others, Cooper Howard’s got me in a grip tighter than his lasso. 😮‍💨 Please be gentle, I pulled a little from Fallout 4 and the TV series in a meshing that I thought felt right. This is briefly proofread but I’m still new to all things Fallout but I hope I did our cowboy justice and I hope y’all enjoy!

You were doing laundry for the day in your house, or better yet, what you could call a house these days, at the little settlement you set up for you and Cooper to live, and some houses for a good few other people you’d met along the way to make it into a nice small town. There was plenty of food to go around from the growing gardens, fresh, clean water, some electricity to keep the gates protected from raiders and things of the like, but also for some street lights at night. It was like a nice little slice of life before the war, or the closest you could get to it anymore anyway, it was peaceful.

It was a particularly sweltering hot day outside, hotter than usual as the sun beat down on the sand, and your skin when you’d step foot outside for even just a few minutes. “Shew, it’s hotter than hell outside” you exclaim, feeling the rush of the hot air that funneled in when Cooper set foot through the door. You were thankful to have chosen a pair of shorts and a tank top to wear out of your small selection of other clothes when you woke up this morning. “Don’t half mind it. Means I get to watch you pad around the house in them lil’ shorts you got on” Cooper said as he shut the door finally, then dropped his saddlebag and things off at his feet, having just come back from a run to the market to grab the essentials like RadAway, Rad-X, Stimpacks and some other chems and things here and there to keep handy for when you both set back out on your travels. You heard his boots clomp heavily against the floor as he drug himself inside, his eyes traveling your figure as you were washing some clothes in a wash bin, watching you bend over and your ass shake a little when you would scrub hard enough at some stains. He gave a crude whistle at the sight, one you were used to him using as a form of expressing that he liked something, making a small grin stretch to your lips. “Somethin’ tells me you’d make one hell of a sexy housewife” he said, coming behind you and tapping your ass playfully to get you to stand back up. You gave a chuckle before swatting at his hands as you turned to face him, making him only grin wider. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Although I’d miss wanderin’ the desert with you and all the shit we get up to” you said with a grin, putting the rag you had in hand over your shoulder as he stepped closer. “Like annoyin’ the piss outta me and stealin’ my kills?” He asked playfully, putting his hands gently on your hips to pull you into a kiss. You giggled in response as you put your hands against his chest to keep him close. “You love watchin’ me kill things with that big ol’ gun’a mine” you said in between kisses, making him hum in agreement with you, or maybe it was a groan at the thought because you were right, the sexiest thing to him was seeing you with a gun in hand, cocking it back after taking down raiders, roaches, scorpions, or whatever your target may be, with the confidence you do. He loved the excited “oh yeah!” Or “booyah!” You’d say to yourself afterwards too in celebration before you’d both rummage through whatever it was you downed. “Oh I absolutely do. Like it even better when it ain’t my bounties you’re droppin’ there, lil’ missy” he quipped, making you giggle again as he tapped your hip with his gloved hand before parting from you to let you get back at what you were doing. Also to watch you bend over some more, can’t restrain a dog once it’s loose. “Just be a quicker shot honey bun, then it won’t be a problem!” You joked, twirling the rag that was over your shoulders in your hands to wind it tight before cracking it against his ass, making him turn his head to look at you from over his shoulder all slow and intimidating like. “Oh it’s like that now, is it?” He asked, turning towards you some more, making you flash him a wide, deviant smile, knowing exactly what you did and that you’d likely be paying the consequences for it here in a few seconds. “Maybe it is! Whatchya gon’ do ‘bout it?” You asked with a widening grin the closer he got.

Before he gave you an answer, he picked you up, placing you over his shoulder with ease. You yelped playfully as he did, still sometimes surprised by the strength he carried before laughing as you started to wiggle in his grasp. “Fix that lil attitude of yours ya got goin’ on” he said, tapping his hand against your ass again, making you only laugh more as he started to walk out of the kitchen away from your chores. “Cooper! I was in the middle of somethin’ there, put me down!” You ordered through your relentless giggles as he continued to walk, almost slow at this point to torment you. “No can do sweetheart. Not ‘til you’ve nicened up” he said as he brought you to the bedroom and threw you on the bed but not too harshly. Just enough to see you bounce and hear you laugh. “I was in the middle of laundry! Your shirts’ll get all starchy an’ stiff if I don’t do it a certain way” you said, sitting up some and getting ready to get up but he sat down with you, which stopped you. He gave you a grin as he looked at the way your thighs were squeezed by the legs of your shorts, and how short they were sitting on you. “My shirts ain’t the only thing gettin’ stiff, I can tell ya that much” he said, making you swat at him once more as he gave a raspy laugh at your blush and facial expression in reaction. “You fiend. You ever thinkin’ with that head on your shoulders? Or just the one in your pants?” You asked with a smirk, knowing all too well the answer to that question, not that you minded one bit either. “I think we both know they’re about the same, I ain’t ever seen you complain about it” he said, making you chuckle as he leaned in and pulled you into another soft, loving kiss that you knew was going to lead to something much more. “Not one bit” you replied between kisses as his hands rested on your hips once more, giving you a nice squeeze while also doing what he could to keep you as close as he could get. He always had his hands on you in some way, sometimes in a suggestive way, but most times in a protective manner. He had to show the others and everyone out there in the commonwealth that no one fucks with, or gets between him and his girl. “C’mon take a break, laundry can wait. I ain’t seen you all day” he said, and he always did have a way with words that made you weak. “Only if ya promise me you won’t get mad if your shirts get stiff” you said, making him laugh. “I don’t give two shits about how them shirts feel, I just need you” he replied, making you smile as that happy twinkle came to your eyes, and gosh how they lit up every time you saw him. “Then I suppose the laundry can wait” you said with a soft giggle as he started to climb over top of you as you laid back against the bed again. Your hair fanned out around you against the pillows like a halo, your eyes half lidded as you looked up at him expectantly with those siren eyes he swore turned his mind into a frenzy. You smiled up at him with those pretty white teeth before he kissed you, feeling his hands wander your frame over your tank top and moving downward as your arms looped around him to pull him closer.

Your one hand removed his large hat, placing it off to the side as the kiss grew more heated, your tongues tangling in a fight for dominance with one another, a battle which he won. You moaned into it as one of his hands slipped beneath your tank top, surprisingly free of his gloves as he groped one of your breasts, tweaking your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Let’s get this off’a you” he said, bringing your tank top up and over your head then tossing it to the side to be forgotten until later, trailing his kisses down your neck to your chest that now laid bare and exposed to the air. You were always a sight to behold to him, no matter how many times you had sex, or how many times he’d just seen you naked or even half naked, he considered himself lucky that you chose him. When he looked at you, everything felt right in the world again, even out in desolate wasteland. When you looked at him, you looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, like he was your whole world, and he was. “My beautiful lady” he complimented before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, working his tongue and thin cracked lips along it as he toyed with the other in his fingers, being sure to give them both the love they deserved. You moaned as he did, your back keening up off the mattress some at his touch. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to have sex, so needless to say you were more than receptive to his touches. You shut your eyes as your head fell back against the pillow, soft moans leaving your throat as he switched treatments, leaving behind nice little hickeys as a reminder of who you belonged to. You bit your lip and casted your gaze down onto him as you felt his lips begin to trail down your chest to your stomach, before he was resting between your legs. “Much as I like these, don’t think you’ll be needin’ ‘em right now” he said, unbuttoning and sliding his fingers into the waistband of your shorts before tugging them down and off from you, tossing them aside as haphazardly as he did with your top. His eyes delighted him when he saw you lying before him in lace, a commodity that’s damn hard to come by these days, making him whistle before making another sound of satisfaction at the sight. “And you were just gonna let this stay hidden? You’re like unwrappin’ a present” he said, making you giggle as he was careful with them as he slid them off you, but tossed them aside all the same. “You’re enough to make a man like me go feral darlin’, ya know that?” He said, making you chuckle once more. “Gettin’ you t’ act a fool is my favorite pass time” you replied, making him chuckle before he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, laying teasing butterfly kisses to your inner thigh that trailed slowly down to your aching cunt.

“Thought I’d pick up some RadAway while I was down at the market today for ya, that way I can give ya what you’ve been wantin’” he said as he sheathed himself fully inside, giving you a moment to breathe and accommodate to his size and the intrusion. You gave a happy little gasp that made him give a dark chuckle in response. “How romantic” you said teasingly but you were truly warmed by it, a bright smile on your face that joined with the blush that came from him already prodding at the apex of your cervix. “Anythin’ for you sweetheart. Besides, be a real shame if this sweet ass a yours looked like mine because of my doin’” he said, making you laugh. “Oh hush you, you’re mighty fine in my book” you said, pulling him into a soft sweet kiss. “For a cowpoke anyway” you added to tease, earning a sharp snap of his hips against yours in retaliation, making a loud moan leave your lips. “Wanna try that again, darlin’?” He asked, making you blush a bit brighter. “Was just kiddin’, shit. But if that’s what I gotta do t’ get ya t’ be rough with me, might just have to get on all them nerves of yours” you responded, making him smirk down at you, god he loved that attitude and humor you always about you, it’s one of the things that kept him going through all this. “If you want rough, all ya gotta do is ask. Fair warning, I don’t play nice when I do” he said, snapping his hips once more to hit deep inside of you, making your back arch up off the mattress once more. “Fuck, don’t want you to play nice. Want you t’ fuck me like you hate me” you said, making him chuckle as he quickly pulled out, making you whine at the loss of contact before you were abruptly rolled onto your stomach and his hand reached into your hair to pull your body into a harsh arch. “That dirty mind and mouth a yours’ll be both our undoin’ sweet cheeks” he said, bullying his way back into your pussy, starting a harsh pace that had your eyes rolling back as his hips slapped against your ass harshly. “You and I both know ya wouldn’t want me any other way” you quipped, making him chuckle as he yanked your hair to pull you back some more, earning a loud moan from you. “Look mighty tasty like this, I could just eat you alive” he said in a low growl, his lips and teeth sinking to your shoulder, leaving a bruise and teeth marks behind, marking and claiming you as his. He felt the way your walls squeezed around him as you whimpered pathetically with his bite, and the way you grew wetter as he did. “Fuck…Cooper” you moaned, making him chuckle as his hands gripped your hips, watching as you moved your hips back and met his thrusts hungrily. “Sure is a pretty sight, seein’ you split open on this cock. Hungry little thing, swallowin’ me the way you do. Tell me who this pretty pussy belongs to” he said, making you grin proudly at his praise. “‘s all yours baby, only for you” you replied as you felt the bed start to rock back and forth and heard it creaking beneath your bodies as he found that spot inside you liked so much. For as hot as it was outside, you two fucked like it was the only way to keep warm. “Damn straight. Fuck…” he groaned, enjoying the sight of your ass jiggling each time his cock entered then reentered you and the sounds you made when it would happen. “So close…please, don’t stop” you begged, knowing full and well he never had any intentions to, but the words flew from your mouth as if they were the only thing you knew to say. You felt one of his hands leave your hip, coming to reach and rub tight circles against your clit, making that coil in the pit of your stomach wind tighter. “Cum for me baby” he said, working you closer and closer to your peak that was just around the corner, all you needed was one last push and he knew it, he could feel it with the way your walls hugged him.

He bit down on your shoulder once more, making you moan as you toppled over the edge. Your walls clenched around him tightly, earning a groan from him as your cunt spasmed and milked him for everything he could give you. Your mouth laid open in a wide O shape as your back arched, keeping him deep inside of you as his release creeped up on him from yours. He let out a deep, feral growl as he came inside of you with his teeth sunk into your perfect skin, missing the feeling of what it was like to empty himself into someone again. You hummed contentedly as you felt him fill you up, a pleasant tingle running through you as he laved over the teeth marks with his tongue. “You alright, sugar? Wasn’t too rough with ya, was I?” He asked by your ear, littering your skin with kisses as one of his hands rubbed soothingly up and down your side. You gave a giggle. “You always act like you’re gonna break me” you replied, making him chuckle. “I just might if I ain’t careful, certainly ain’t known for being a softy for others sweetheart” he said, making you chuckle as he pulled out of you slowly, trying his best not to hurt or overstimulate you both, allowing you to turn around and look at him. “Maybe I’d like it if ya did, but no you didn’t go rough on me. Was perfect, as always” you responded flirtatiously but with a sweet smile, making him chuckle dryly once more. “Good, I’ll always take good care of my girl” he replied, leaning down to kiss you softly before grabbing a rag and wetting it to help clean you up. As he came back and spread your legs, he watched his seed leak from you, moving down your thighs. He gave a crude whistle. “Now that’s a sight” he said with a mischievous grin, making you roll your eyes with an entertained smile as he helped clean you up, laying a kiss to your inner thigh. “At least give me a little recovery time, I ain’t got that stamina you got yet” you said, making him laugh as he disposed of the rag and climbed back into bed with you. “And don’t worry, I had my Rad-X for the day. Though I gotta say, that’s a feeling that’s totally worth a little radiation sickness if ya ask me” you said, both of you giving a chuckle as you kissed him softly once more, your hand resting on his chest as you did. “Well, just t’ be safe, I got RadAway. Some for me to keep me from turnin’ feral and rippin’ you to pieces, and some for you for those nights you crave that sweet feelin’” he said, handing you the IV bag of yellow liquid from off the bedside table. “What would I ever do without you?” You asked, hooking it up to the rack and putting the IV in to allow it to take effect. “A whole lotta nothin’ good I imagine. Probably spend a whole lotta nights hoping them dainty little fingers a yours can achieve anything close t’ what I give ya every night” he teased with a grin, making you roll your eyes with a laugh but he wasn’t wrong.

His hand came to yours, pulling it to where your fingers would intertwine with his, something he always did when you used needles and medicines on yourself as a gesture of comfort. He pulled his inhaler and a vile of RadAway from his duster that lay on the floor as you let the bag drip slowly. He took a hit off of his inhaler, giving a contended sigh as he leaned back against the pillows and let it work its way into his system. He looked over to see you, admiring him like he hung the moon and the stars in the night sky. He gave you a sweet smile, one pulled deep from his heart as you leaned your head against his shoulder. One that said the three words he’d been struggling to try and tell you after all this time being together, a loving look in his usually dark, haunting gaze. “I love you” he said, making you look up at him in astonishment that he’d finally come around to saying it. You smiled at him, that same sweet smile he saw the first time he ever sent a flirty word your way, the same smile he’d come to absolutely adore seeing stretch to your cute face every time you saw him. “I love you too, Coop” you replied back, easing the tightness in his chest as he awaited your response. He gave you a relieved smile as he kissed your head, slinging his arm around you to pull you into his side and hold you close.

The moment was sweet, quiet save for the sounds of your joined breathing and heartbeats but peacefully so. You both stayed like that for a good while, the bag of RadAway already run down to nearly empty. That peace was disturbed when you realized you still had some chores on your list left to do for the day. “Shit, I still got laundry and shit to do” you said, sighing as you realized it and tipped your head back with a groan, removing your IV and bandaging up your arm, getting ready to get up and go back to it. “Hold it there, little lady” Cooper said, getting up and putting his briefs and pants back on. “I gotchya. You rest that pretty head a yours while I take care of it, ‘kay? Let that stuff work its way in ya” He said, making you look up at him. “You ain’t gotta do that Coop…” you replied, making him shake his head at you. “Shh, shh, shh. Don’t you move a muscle there, pretty lady. I got it” he urged, kissing your head once more before placing his hat back on his head, grabbing his shirt from the floor and throwing his duster over his shoulder. “‘s a good look on you” you said with a half lidded smile, your eyes raking his form as he turned and looked at you, shooting a grin your way. “And that is a good look on you” he replied, tipping his head to gesture at you who still laid in bed naked, hair slightly messy, a few bite marks and hickeys littering your otherwise mostly unblemished skin. You gave a grin and a giggle as he stood there, a calculated look in his eyes as he looked you over, resting himself by his arm along the doorframe. “I think I can live without a couple extra shirts” he said, tossing his shirt across the room without a care for where it landed, dropping his duster along the chair in the room. “What are you…Cooper!” You yelped playfully as he climbed back onto the bed, a hungry look in his eyes as he climbed over top of you. “Chores can wait a day, I need you sugar” he said, leaning down and slotting his lips against yours, pulling you into a soft, sweet kiss. “I need this” he added genuinely, his tone soft and loving as he pressed his forehead to yours while he held one of your hands in his. “Been enough days out in that shit hole wasteland that got me scared I was gonna lose you, and that’s somethin’ I just can’t have. So I wanna enjoy this, this little slice of paradise we got right now, with you” he said between soft, loving kisses, making you smile as you gave in and kissed him back. Laundry could wait for another day, he was right, times like these were hard to come by. Needless to say, no other chores got done that day, but it was certainly a night neither of you would ever forget.

#fallout #the ghoul #cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #the ghoul x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 4 months

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Tennessee Whiskey

Pairing: Country Singer!Reader x Lando Norris

Rating: PG-17

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: None really, just language, the dickhead known as Rhett

Requested: Yes/No

Songs: Save a Horse, Ride a cowboy by Big & Rich, Tennessee Whiskey by Chris Stapleton, Life is a Highway by Rascal Flatts, She's Country by Jason Aldean, What Hurts the Most by Rascal Flatts, All-American Girl by Carrie Underwood, Jolene by Dolly Parton, Bless these Broken Roads by Rascal Flatts, Fancy by Reba McEntire, What Ifs by Kane Brown

Synopsis: You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

Some country songs just write themselves

A/N: I want to thank @monzamash for giving me the idea of how they met but also @vintaqestar for fueling this even more. And also Chris Stapleton for me listening to song and giving me the inpsiration. @bibissparkles

"Welcome to Nashville," Lando smiles brightly at the older gentleman holding his hand.

Nashville, Tennessee. That's where Lando was currently, here for a Jack Daniel's event. He's never been to Nashville, but he is standing in the back room of a cramped yet packed bar. Jack was releasing a new bottle, a special one with McLaren on it. Fans and nonfans alike were here for the event.

He was also told that some country singers would be there. The base was thumping, and the thick smell of smoke and alcohol had his throat tightening. Oscar was leaning against a wall, probably not wise as Lando had touched it, and it was sticky. Yet, Oscar looked the most relaxed Lando had ever seen.

"You bunch sure know how to throw a party," Oscar voices, a little louder than usual. But with the southern drawl of some singer, a song about a tractor that is somehow sexy. "How is a tractor sexy?" Lando whispers, lips right against Oscar's ear. The Aussie turns and shrugs his shoulder. "I don't think they care, look." Oscar points to the crowd.

Oscar was right; Lando was watching people sing and do some type of synchronized dancing. "What are they doing?" The older gentleman, whose name Lando couldn't remember, something like Dan, laughed loudly. "It's called line dancing." Oscar and Lando share a look and just shrug their shoulders. "When do we go out?" Oscar asks, but Dan waves his hand.

"Ah hell, you ain't gonna go on stage, boys; you're behind the bar. We don't showboat out here. Unless you're like them," Dan, maybe Cash, points, and Lando looks over. He sucks in a breath seeing a woman holding a torched guitar. It was gorgeous, with dark wood, but through the low lights, it looked like fire was taken to give it this smokey look. "That's The Cadillac's. A new band, but damn, they think they're going to clean house at the CMA's." Dan yells, tipping his hat.

Lando stopped listening, though, unable to take his eyes off the woman with the guitar. With their hair pulled back and a black cowboy hat placed on their head. Oscar looks over at what has Lando's attention and chuckles. "Hey, who is that?" Oscar asks, pointing to who Lando is staring at. "Eh, oh, that's Y/n L/n, the lead singer. Sweet, sweet girl. Born and raised here in the south, want me to introduce you two?" "Yes," "No," Oscar and Lando answer simultaneously.

"Excuse Lando, he gets nervous meeting new people. We'd love to meet them." Oscar chuckles, and Dan smiles and pulls the two drivers over.

"Honestly, what even is a McLaren?" Your drummer, Cassie asks, fixing her belt buckle. She earned something from Barrel Racin and would cut anyone for touching it. "I think it's a type of car, Y/N?" You whip your head up at your bassist Judd asks, poking you. "What? Yeah, it's a car, but this is for Formula 1. I said yes to this cause it's Jackie's bar. We started here, guys; just be polite." You urge knowing that Cassie and Judd tended to get in some trouble.

"We'll be on our best behavior, ma'am." Judd tips his hat, and you just roll your eyes. "Kids!" You three turn, seeing Jackie barreling towards you with two young men dressed in Vols orange. "Y/n, this is Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri; they're the drivers for this fancy party." Jackie laughs and pats the one named Lando on the back. "Nice to meet ya'll," You stick out your hand.

Lando mumbles back a hello but doesn't shake your hand. "Oscar," You turn, and what you assume is the oldest of the two shakes your hand. "Y/n, nice to meet ya." Oscar smiles, but you turn back to Lando and give him a small smile. "Well, um, catch ya later." You clear your throat, and Lando looks up and nods.

"Yeah, gotta a crowd to sing to," Judd places his arm over your shoulders, and you can tell he is staring down at Lando. "And I gotta get these boys behind the bar," You wave off Jackie, smile at Lando, and nod your head at Oscar as you three take the stage.

Lando jumps a little at the roar that builds into the building, even on the street. This place was shaking alone with just the cheer of the crowd. "Here, and don't worry about making difficult orders, just the ones with the new whiskey. You two should be fine." Dan says, or Jackie, actually. "Thanks!" Oscar laughs as Lando can't pull his eyes off the stage.

"Hello, Nashville. Now, let's give a big warm welcome to our other half from across the pond. McLaren Formula 1 Team!" You scream; a bright light lands on Lando as people cheer, and Oscar has to nudge him to wave. "Alright, we're all here to drink but also dance, so let me introduce myself to you, lovely people. I'm Y/n, and we're The Cadillacs. We're gonna start off with a good one. So sing if you know it, dance, who cares." You laugh.

"I've known you since Brad and Angelina

We go back like Pontiac seats

If I got an aisle with a mess I gotta clean up

I know you'll be showin' up with bleach, hmm."

Lando smiles, hearing the opening lyrics, and people quickly move, grabbing someone to dance with as the sound of the violin and guitar complement one another.

All those names that we don't ever speak of

Got a couple nights that have slipped my mind

Proof and photographs have been deleted

If you ever needed an alibi

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

"Hey, can I get a whiskey sour?" Someone yells, and Lando snaps his head away from you and to the woman before him, and he nods. Lando hums along, even going as far as to tap his foot to the beat.

It's a good thing we're each other's kinda crazy

Ain't no judgment or keepin' score

If you rob a bank, I'm your getaway Mercedes

God knows that's what friends are for

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too, yeah

"They're pretty good. The crowd loves them!" Oscar yells, handing off 3 beers, and the cowboys yell and head off, the crowd growing more with each passing minute. Like the music was drawing them in more than them. Which was probably true.

I keep all your secrets by the dozen

You know where my skeletons sleep

Hypothetically, if you ever kill your husband

Hand on the Bible, I'd be lyin' through my teeth

'Cause dirt on you is dirt on me

And we both know our hands ain't clean

If it all blows up and we end up on the news

If you go down, I'm going down too

Our bodies are buried, and they're in the same ditch

So even if I wanted to, I can't snitch

30 to life would go quicker with you, yeah

Smiling at the crowd, you can't help but pull your attention to the bar, seeing Lando bop his head and smile brightly. You feel this lightness in your chest when you see his smile; he is adorable. But he was also gorgeous in this unique way; you could stare at him for hours. Unsure why, you're glad he was enjoying your song, which was currently snug at number 1 in the charts.

So, if you go down, I'm going down too

If you go down, I'm going down too

You finish off the ending and sigh as the crowd roars, and you scan it and see Lando smiling and clapping loudly. You blush and look back at the crowd and then at Judd and Cassie. "Hey? One of the oldies?" You ask, knowing the crowd would love it. "Fuck yeah!" Judd laughs, knowing the next song is about your ex. A nasty piece of work.

"Alright, one more 'cause we've got some great talent here. Now, how about a song warning men what happens when you cheat on a good ole southern girl?" You laugh seeing men groan, but the woman jumping up and down. This was the song that catapulted your career.

Right now, he's probably slow dancin' with a bleach-blonde tramp

And she's probably gettin' frisky

Right now, he's probably buyin' her some fruity little drink

'Cause she can't shoot whiskey

Right now, he's probably up behind her with a pool stick

Showin' her how to shoot a combo

And he doesn't know

Lando's eyes snap up at you on the stage, hearing the dark rumble change in how you started to change and how you give yourself a deep southern drawl. Lando laughs as he watches you lean into the song, singing your heart out as you hit each note with emotions. Lando shudders, hating to be the guy this song was written about.

He doesn't know how it happened, but Lando ends up singing along with the crowd and starts to jump when Cassie hits the drums and joins in on the chorus. "Maybe next time, he'll think before he cheats!" Lando yells and watches the stage go dark. "Damn, the group got a new fan?" Lando blushes when Oscar nudges him, but he just looks away. Something about you was pulling him in.

"I sure hope so!" Lando jumps, hearing your accent right there. Damn, you looked good. Lando melted slightly with a light shine to your skin, hair a little messy, and cheeks wide from your smile. "Want some water?" Lando freezes, hating that's what he started with. You giggle and lean over the bar, not caring for the way your skin is sucked into it now. "How about a double shot of whiskey? Think ya could do that?" You ask, staring at Lando.

"Yeah," He breathes, and you giggle, jumping back down as you watch him move behind the bar and fix the drink. "Hey, how old are you?" Oscar turns and gives a lopsided grin. "I'm 22, Lando is 24." Your eyes grow wide, hearing that Lando is the oldest among them. "Really? For sure, I thought it was you." You laugh, Lando blushing even harder.

"Here," He slides the glass over, and you smile, taking a sip. "Damn, good whiskey." Lando chuckles and hands off some other drinks. "So, what is Formula 1?" Lando turns, and you swear you feel your chest flutter. He had gorgeous eyes that were the perfect blend of blue and green. "It's international racing," "So you travel the world? That's gotta be fun," You yell as people cheer for the next act.

"I guess! It's tiring after a while, but we meet cool people." Lando leans onto the counter, giving you a little smirk. "Am I one of those cool people?" You flirt. Lando chuckles and looks away with a blush. "Yeah," He breathes. "Yeah, you are." Taking another sip of your whiskey, you put it down and lean in. "Good, 'cause I think you're pretty cool too."

-------------------------------

"Damn, they sure know how to party." Oscar groans, rolling his neck as Lando helps you pack up. "It's the southern, just be happy football wasn't going on." Judd laughs, slapping the poor kid on the back. Oscar, much smaller than your bassist stumbles forward. "And we have to do this all over again Friday." Cassie sighs, pulling her jet black hair out of its braids.

"Hey, if you're not doing anything, um, would you like to join us for the week?" You ask, fiddling with your fingers. Lando looks up, Oscar being pulled away by Judd and Cassie like he was a little boy. "Um, I'd have to check my schedule." He mumbles, wondering what exactly McLaren would have him do until Friday.

"Oh, yeah, you're probably busy." You chuckle, rubbing the back of your neck. "Nope, he's not busy. As long as you have him back by Friday night, you can keep him." Lando jumps, seeing Jon there all of a sudden. "Where'd you come from?" Lando squeaks, feeling bashful as if a parent just caught him doing something he shouldn't be doing. "The hotel and Miss. L/n, whatever you want to do with him, go crazy." Jon smiles and slaps his hands down on Lando's shoulders.

"Well," Lando can see your confidence inflate again and smiles, feeling himself grow comfortable. "How about showing this Brit the southern life? We're going back to my ranch upstate; how about it?" You ask, leaning against a speaker. Lando thinks it over, though he wants to say yes immediately. "Yes, I'd love to." Your smile grows so that even your cheeks puff out.

"Great, I might want to say your goodbyes now. There is no cell service in those parts. Real nice," Lando pulls out his phone and hands it to Jon. "No need for cell service when you've got no phone." Judd laughs and tips his hat. "I like you," Lando nods in agreement, and Jon makes a noise. "Just tell Zak, well, I don't know, but tell him I would get injured." "Yeah, we won't have a pretty boy here riding horses," Cassie calls, and Jon looks between you and Lando.

"Alright, just be careful." Jon waves Oscar over, who gives Lando a thumbs up and out of the bar. Lando chuckles and turns, balking when Judd is staring at him. "You stick out like a sore thumb." Judd muses, ruffling his dirty blonde hair. "Hey, Y/n, pretty boy here should change, don't you think? Or else those fans of him will totally notice him." You haul up your guitar and look him over.

Black joggers, a bright neon papaya sweatshirt, and black sneakers. "Do you own jeans?" Lando nods, but Cassie snorts. "Not skinny jeans, like wranglers or something?" She walks around him, checking him out. "Um, no?" "Well, we hit Broadway and get him a new fit." Judd muses, and you blush; Lando would look good in a cowboy hat.

"Come on," You finish loading everything up and watch the trunk pull off, leaving you four outside. Lando follows you, but you reach back and lace your fingers together. "Careful around here. Drunks and others won't hesitate to pickpocket ya. So, stay close." Lando doesn't even bother pulling his hand away, loving the weight of yours in his. "In here," Judd shoves you 3 into the door and laughs when you stumble into the store owner glaring but stop seeing who it is.

"Judy boy!" "What up, old man? Think you can do a makeover here for our boy!" Judd points behind him, and the owner looks him over. "Of course, bring him here." Lando doesn't know what happened, only that he's shoved into a room and returned wearing a black t-shirt, cowboy-cut jeans, and perfectly fitted black cowboy boots. "Now, the hat." Judd muses, and you giggle, sitting on a stool.

"Lookin good," Lando turns and stutters, seeing your hair free. Wow, he was awestruck by you, hat off, and he finally got an honest look at you. "Pretty," He whispers, and Cassie snorts but muffles it when Judd glares her. "Hey, Bud, add in some orange, will ya'? It's um, shit, forgot your name, pretty boy." Judd laughs, and Lando can't help but join in. "Lando," You and Lando say at the same time.

You look away when Bud starts to make the hat, and Lando can't help but turn to you. "What got you into singing?" You look up and smile, and Lando knows that smile. It was the smile of someone who remembered their first time falling in love. "My daddy, he was a farmer. I'm the oldest, so he'd wake me up, and we'd check the fields together. Every morning before school, no matter the rain, sun, or cold, it didn't matter. It was hard work, but he'd have this little radio. He'd turn it on, and we'd sing together. Some of the best memories I have are with that old bugger." You smile, looking down.

"Does he come to your shows?" You take a deep breath and clear your throat. "No, not anymore. He passed about 3 years ago." Lando curses himself, but he stops seeing your soft smile. "He's not in person, but I have him onstage with me for each show. The guitar I got?" Lando nods, knowing the one; it looked old but was a gorgeous piece. "He gave it to me, same as my hat." You jump off the stole and rock forward to lean on the counter.

"Almost done there, Bud? We gotta long drive home," You yell, and Bud just curses you, but you giggle and bump your shoulders into Lando's.

-----------------------------------------

"Wakey, wakey," Lando groans, feeling something wet touch his face, and he pats it away. "Lando, come on, you gotta wake up." "Mhn go away Osc," Lando hears Oscar tsk and kicks him, rolling off the bed with a screech. "What the hell, mate!" Instead of Oscar, all 6'4 of Judd stood a very shirtless Judd. "Breakfast will be gone soon; it's better to go eat. Then we can go," Judd leaves the room, and Lando turns, seeing the large Bluetick Coonhound named Rusty staring at him.

"Don't drool on me, please," Rusty opens his mouth and barks loudly, with Lando chuckling, "Yeah, yeah, alright." Lando stands and moves, staring at the new clothes given to him. Sliding in jeans and a t-shirt, he threw on the baseball cap and walked out barefoot. "Good morning," you sing, and Lando sighs; he could get used to this.

"Judd said we're going somewhere?" You turn and smile. "We're going fishing." Lando makes a disgusted face that has Cassie spitting out her coffee. "Oh shit, if he makes that face again, I'll piss myself.' Cassie cackles, which has Judd chuckling as well. "Scared of a little fishie?" "They're disgusting." You shake your head as Lando shivers.

"Really? You at them just fine last night." Slapping your spatula down, you see Judd with a blank face. "Judd," You hiss, "Hey, don't pass out, pretty boy," You turn and gasp, seeing Lando whiter than white. "Lando, he's joking. We didn't fish last night. It's just a joke." You plead and help him sit down on a stool. "Promise? Promise that wasn't fish?" He asks, eyes wide, and you bite your bottom lip. "I promise that wasn't fish." You explain; great, now you'd have to lie about what Bass was for the rest of his life.

"Shit," Judd chokes into his mug, and you glare at him. "Go take the dog out," You hiss and watch as Judd takes Rusty out. "Don't you have something to do as well? You've already eaten." You point to Cassie, who looks up and groans. "But, I want more." She whines, and you huff, "It's for Lando and me. Now go." Cassie huffs and shoves on her boots and stalks off outside into the cool air.

"Was it really fish?" Lando asks, and you look down. The poor boy's lips were swollen from chewing on them, and his eyes were wide. "No, it wasn't fish. Judd was just fucking with you." You giggle, trying so hard to not laugh. "Good, 'cause last night was good, but if it was fish, ugh." Lando sticks out his tongue, and you turn back to ensure you didn't fire the bacon.

"Okay, well, how about getting me the orange juice. Coffee?" You ask, pointing at the pot, and he shakes his head. "Don't drink it; I'll take the juice, though." He opens the fridge and grabs it, pouring two glasses. "I'm glad you know how to cook, I suck at it." You snort on a laugh and flip the bacon. "I'll teach you how to make eggs." Your grandma would always tell you someone needed to know how to cook at least one thing. "I'll burn the house down." But you roll your eyes. "I highly doubt that."

"Now, grab me four eggs," You point to the cart. "Crack them open into that bowl and then scramble them." You instruct. Lando cracks them open but stops staring at them. "Do I shake them?" You laugh, plate the bacon, and turn the eye down. "No, take that fork and stir hard, but not too hard. You get them everywhere." You instruct and go to the oven and take out four fluffy biscuits.

Lando nods and stirs the eggs, and you watch, ensuring he doesn't make a mess. "Perfect," You wipe your hands and turn the eye of the stove back on. "Now, come here." Lando walks over, and you giggle. "With the eggs, Lando." "Right, knew that," He mumbles and grabs the bowl, and you place him in front of the stove. "Next step, pour the eggs in. Some spray the pan, but I just finished cookin bacon, and the grease will add extra flavor." "Jesus, this one meal will fuck up my diet." "Stop," You pinch his side, and he yelps, but you both start laughing.

"Okay, pour the eggs," Lando does as you say, and you grab a plastic spoon and hand it to him. "wait a minute. then take the spoon, pull the eggs off the ring of the pan, and start bunching them up, and then like you were stirring them, it'll break them up." You explain and watch as Lando does as you say. "Stop, that's perfect." You take the pan, add fresh eggs to the plate, and smile. "And there you go, you just made eggs." Lando smiles brightly and leans forward but stops and pulls back.

Clearing his throat, he smiles and grabs your plates. "Where, too?" He asks, and you point outside, cursing yourself for thinking he would kiss you. You two just met; why would he do that. Pushing the screen door open and hearing the comforting snap of it, you groan. "Woooo, that was painful," You turn and see Judd leaning on the counter.

"Fuck off, Judy," But it had no bite to it. "Hey, just sayin, but he was going to kiss you." Judd winks and walks off, heading somewhere deep into the cabin. Rolling your eyes, you grab your orange juice cups and see Lando sitting on the outside bar, watching the sunrise. "This is wish when I had my phone, to take pictures of this." You set the cups down, sliding into your own chair. "No, you don't. It's stuff like this you don't want your phone for. Just enjoy." You grumble and bite into your eggs, and Lando shrugs.

-----------------------------------------

"I thought you meant fishing on a boat?" Lando groans, trudging through the woods. "Hell no, a bunch of tourists are here, and this is a secret little place Y/n and I found as kids. So be nice. We don't tell anyone about this place." Cassie yells back, and you giggle at Lando's long sigh. "Why'd you bring the guitar?" Lando asks you, seeing the soft cover hanging off your back. "Sometimes, being out here gives me good inspiration." Lando hums and sees Cassie and Judd stop.

"Finally," "Nuhuh, pretty boy. You and Y/n are going further up." Judd boops Lando's nose, who whimpers and hangs his head. "Aren't you supposed to be an athlete? Where's that stamina?" Judd teases. "I'm not built to dig around the southern woods, much less in these temps." "Stop your complaining and go," Judd shoves Lando, and you two walk further from there.

"They're fishing; we're just going to relax upriver. Or did you really think we'd make you fish?" Lando thinks it over and then sees you're not carrying fishing poles and that Cassie and Judd had most of them. "Oh, didn't even cross my mind, honestly." Smiling, you lead the way and stop seeing the clearing that has the river in front of it. "Hey, Whiskey, tell me we can stop now." Lando groans, and you turn, confused at who he is talking to. "What?" Lando looks up and stops. "Whiskey, it's your nickname. Since the first thing that got you and me talking was whiskey." You're glad your face is already flushed, or Lando would see the giant blush covering your entire face.

"Oh, uh, ahaha yeah, we can stop here." You place your guitar down, fluff out the blanket, and grab bug spray and sunscreen. "Come here. You'll cook like cornbread in a cast iron." Lando turns with confusion on his face that has you smiling. "You'll burn Lando. Come here so I can put sunscreen on you." You explain as he shrugs off his shirt. "Shit," You whisper, and his eyes cast up. "What? Something wrong?" As he spins around looking for something.

"Wha, oh no, nothing, here." You hand the sunscreen to him, looking away from him. Lando takes it and smiles as he sprays everything on you. Removing your top, he easily applies it to you as well.

You don't know how much time passes under the southern sun, but the soft breeze makes it bearable for you and Lando. "What are you writing?" His voice was smooth, like the wind was barely touching you. "A new song," You reply and scratch out some words. "Well, I figured that, Whiskey, but I meant, what exactly are you writing?" Lando rolls over onto his stomach, hands under his chin as he looks up at you through his lashes. "Oh, well, it's something new. I doubt the fans would like it." You comment, fixing the guitar settled on your knee.

"That I doubt. I don't usually listen to country, but if from the songs I've heard from you if this new song is anything like the ones I know, people will love it." Lando smiles, smile brighter than the damn sun. "Yeah, well, Rhett would disagree with you there." You snort, "Whose Rhett?" Lando sits up now, eyebrows bunched.

"My ex, he's a bull rider. Cassie's older brother," You add on, and Lando rolls his eyes. "Well, Rhett is a jackass." You giggle and look at him. "You don't even know him," "I know he clearly didn't support you. Your new song will be awesome. Play it for me." Lando scoots closer, and you lean back, unsure if you should. "It's different," You whisper.

"Different is good. It heals the soul sometimes. Now, play." Lando demands, eyes boring into yours. "Fine." You grumble and peel the guitar off your sweaty knee onto your lap. "It'd sound better with my electric guitar, okay, just don't judge." You warn, but Lando shakes his head no. "I'd never judge you, Whiskey."

Okay," You take a deep breath, strum the first couple of strings, and start singing the words.

Used to spend my nights out in a barroom

Liquor was the only love I'd known

But you rescued me from reachin' for the bottom

And brought me back from bein' too far gone

You're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

I've looked for love in all the same old places

Found the bottom of a bottle's always dry

But when you poured out your heart, I didn't waste it

'Cause there's nothin' like your love to get me high

And you're as smooth as Tennessee whiskey

You're as sweet as strawberry wine

You're as warm as a glass of brandy

And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time

When you finish, you sigh and look at Lando, who is staring at you. "Ugh, god, I knew it! This song sucks. Listen, there is supposed to be a guitar solo, and I probably won't even give it my record. Ugh!" You yell and flop back, squinting at the sun. "That was," you brace yourself for the lashing for how different it wasn't you or the image you were giving the world. It was different, and people would stop listening to you and the band.

"THE BEST SONG EVERY" "What!" You sit up as Lando launches himself at you, pushing you back down and hovering over you. You swallow hard, focusing on his chain dangling around his neck. "Whiskey, that was fabulous. You have to give your record label that song. And finish it; I want to hear all of it, promise me." He pleads, and you nod your head as he pulls off you; sitting up, you blink, trying to control the urge to devour his lips.

"Oi! Love birds, time to go in. Can smell the rain coming!" Lando hops up and nods as you just quietly pack up your guitar. Lando walks past, but Judd stops you. "Do I need to kick his ass?" He whispers, and you shake your head. "No," "Then what's wrong, Y/n?" "He believes in me," Judd lets his hand slip, and you walk off, leaving your friend smirking.

-----------------------------------

"Ugh, I'm stuffed. Seriously, tell me what this is." Lando gives Cassie and Judd puppy eyes, but they just share a look and quickly snatch all the plates. "Nope," Lando deflates and groans, and goes over to the radio and turns it up slightly. The storm and music make a perfect blend. You four were out under the tin roof of the large porch. It was about 12 ft by 12ft and had a built-in fireplace.

It was where your grandpa would come and pick with his band, and now, where you sit and do the same thing. You swear, sometimes you can still hear that damn banjo or violin. You lean back in your rocking chair, the same one he sat in and taught you how to play, Lando coming up and sitting beside you.

"Friday is in 4 days," He whispers, and you clear your throat, hating the thought of Lando leaving. "I know, and it's probably best we get there early." You reply, tightening your hand on the beer bottle. "Teach me how to dance." You turn, shocked by the change of subject. "Judd told me you're taking me to some get-together and that there will be line dancing. So teach me." You blink at him and sigh, "I don't know how to." Lando chuckles and stands.

"Okay, then just dance with me." Lando holds his hand out to you, staring at you, gently lacing your fingers together. Lando tugs you up, and you quickly melt together as you don't listen to the music. Just the way his hand holds yours and the weight of his arm on your waist. "Screw it," You whisper and place your head on his shoulder, nose brushing his neck. "I have to leave for Begas after Friday's event." "Be quiet." Not wanting to hear about him leaving.

"Whiskey, I don't want to leave, but you know," "Lando, just dance with me." You whisper, effectively making the Brit snap his mouth closed.

"Judy," Cassie whispers and gently pokes Judd, who groans and opens his eyes. "What," He grumbles and yawns stretching. "Think it's about him?" Cassie whispers, and Judd turns his head and sees you and Lando dancing more to the pounding sound of rain and thunder.

"What's about him?" Judd reaches over, snatches Cassie's opened beer, and sips. "That song she's writing, the one she stopped. I bet it is; she's never really experienced love." Cassie whispers, and Judd rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I wonder whose fault it is." Cassie flinches, knowing her brother Rhett really fucked you up, something she regrets every day.

"He's different." Judd looks over and watches as Lando kisses your forehead softly and closes his eyes, leaning more into you. "I sure hope so; I'd hate to bury him in the backyard."

-----------------------------------------

"It's loud in here!" Lando yells, which has you and your friends laugh. "Seriously? You had us buy a race and listen to real F1 cars, and you say this is loud?" You yell in his ear, Lando's arm tightening into your side. "Yeah, well, we get earbuds!" Lando screams, fixing his cowboy hat. A black one with an orange string tied around it. Other than that, it looked average. Judd had picked out Lando's outfit, reminding you why you loved your best friend so much.

Lando was wearing a white button-down with a couple of buttons undone to show off his various necklaces and had black jeans paired with it; they hugged his thighs and ass so perfectly that even Cassie stared. He wore the cowboy boots you bought for him, and you giggled; he looked a little silly with the hat, but he loved the hat and refused to go without it.

"Now, can we dance?" He points to the line dance. It was to the song Country Girl by Luke Bryan, and you laugh, shaking your head no. "Hell no, I'll trip." Lando chuckles as Judd ushers you to your booth and makes you and Lando sit inside. "Okay, but just once, dance like that! Promise?" You just nod in agreement even though you were dreading the thought.

It was 2 hours of Lando begging and getting 2 dances in with Judd and Cassie that you stood, and his eyes lit up. "I'm getting us another round." Lando deflats but nods and kisses your cheek. Jolene by Dolly Parton comes on, and you run to the bar smiling and breathless. "Hey, can I get 2 beers and a double shot of JD?" The bartender turns and nods their head.

"Still drinking like a man huh?" That voice, that voice still had your body freeze up. Fuck, what was he doing here? He was supposed to be in Texas for a competition. "What? Not going to turn around?" You shudder and turn, coming face to face with your ex, Rhett. "Rhett," Breathing out his name felt like fire on your tongue. "If it isn't my sweet baby, missed me?" He asks and leans against the bar. "Fuck off," You turn to leave, not even caring for the drinks anymore.

"Now, now, sweets. Come here. Still trying to act like that tough girl when we both know you're still that little girl inside." He hisses, tightening his grip on you. "Let me go. I'm here with someone." "Really? You aren't wearing his hat."

Judd looks over, wondering where you could take so long and tense. "Fuck, Cassie, goddammit. Your brother is here." Cassie's eyes pull away from the blonde girl beside her, and she groans. "Dammit," Cassie groans and pulls away from the girl and stands. "Whose that?" Lando asks, hearing not the best. "That would be my dickwaffle of a brother, Rhett. Y/n's ex." Lando feels anger course through his blood. "Yeah, well, you know that 2nd song we sang at the party?" Judd asks, taking off his hat and fixing his rings. "Yeah, the one about the cheating?" Lando asks, "That was about Rhett," Judd adds, and Lando moves quickly to your side.

You feel a presence beside you and suddenly feel the heavy weight of a hat on your head. "Now, she's wearing my hat. Now let go of my girl, right now." You turn, seeing Lando and sag into his side as Rhett drips his hand. "Really? This little boy? Oh, how your taste has fallen," Rhett gets in your face, but Lando effortlessly shoves Rhett back and pushes you behind his back.

"The only little boy I see here is you, you shriveled 2-inch dick. Get the fuck out of here," Lando seethes, and you have to smother your laughter as Judd steps up behind you and Lando easily towering over you both. Rhett blanches, knowing Judd would easily slaughter him. "Whatever, enjoy my leftovers." "I do, and I eat her out every night." Lando spits without thinking twice. You blush and move, hugging his back as you hide your face. Lando moves, covering your hands with his one large hand.

"Mr.Norris, I think you've earned yourself a dance." You whisper, causing Lando to spin around and smile. "Really? Well, let me do the honors, darlin'." You laugh at his fake accent. "So bad," You laugh as he tugs you into his arms, leading you to the dance floor. "Stay there!" You yell and run up to the DJ booth. Lance watches as you lean over, and he's never been happier about you wearing tight jeans and a loose top. You looked damn good.

Running back over, you keep Lando's hat on your head and see everyone clearing out, and the people who enjoy line dancing come back out. "Aight, this one is for our special guest, Miss. Y/n L/n herself," A roar surrounds you two as you turn and wave and turn to Lando. "Judd taught me this one when we were teens, so just don't judge. "This song is for you," You hear the familiar DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaaaa DumDeDeDum, DeDeDumDeDeDum, DeDaaDaaDaaDaaDaaaa feels your ears and Lando whips his head to you.

"Are you serious? You know this song!" And Lando gets a cheeky smirk on his face. "Remind me to introduce you to Daniel one day." Rolling your eyes, the heavy guitar beat hits, and you tell Lando to follow your movement. Stepping forward and then back, Lando moves with you.

Well, I walk into the room

Passing out hundred dollar bills

And it kills and it thrills like the horns on my Silverado grill

And I buy the bar a double round of crown

And everybody's getting down

An' this town ain't never gonna be the same

With the lyrics, you laugh and step side and then jump and turn, shuffling your feet forward like a horse walking. Lando laughs, head back as he does it as well.

'Cause I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Getting to the chorus was always your favorite part. Hearing the line, you take off the hat, as does every other female, and some guys swing the hat around and stop. Lando laughs but you stop him, "Only those that ride do that part." Lando's eyes widened, and you smirked, glad you could catch him off guard. "I think I've got it now." He yells.

Well I don't give a dang about nothing

I'm singing and Bling-Blinging

While the girls are drinking

Long necks down!

And I wouldn't trade ol' Leroy

Or my Chevrolet for your Escalade

Or your freak parade

I'm the only John Wayne left in this town

And I saddle up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

You and Lando dance as his arms wrap around you, and you two do the moves in sync as he catches on quickly. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy!" You two scream, and you swing the hat and pull him close, Lando leaning in to kiss you, but you pull back, kick up your right heel, and go back to the moves.

I'm a thourough-bred that's what she said

In the back of my truck bed

As I was gettin' buzzed on suds

Out on some back country road

We where flying high Fine as wine

Having ourselves a big and rich time

And I was going, just about as far as she'd let me go

But her evaluation of my cowboy reputation

Had me begging for salvation all night long

So I took her out giggin frogs

Introduced her to my old bird dog

And sang her every Wilie Nelson song I could think of

And we made love

"Does that mean I'm your thoroughbred?" Lando jokes, but his voice reaches a deeper tune, and you turn, smirking. "Why? Wanna be?" You ask, making the moves backward as Lando pulls you in.

And we made love

And I saddled up my horse

And I ride into the city

I make a lot of noise

'Cause the girls they are so pretty

Riding up and down Broadway

On my old stud Leroy

And the girls say

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

What? What?

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Everybody says

Save a horse, ride a cowboy

Lando leans in, and so do you; this time, there are no interruptions as Lando captures your lips, and you melt into him. You never understood some country songs about love, having thought you might experience it with a true southern boy like Rhett. But who would've thought you'd feel it was some Brit. "Save a horse, ride a cowboy," Lando whispers, pulling away, and you giggle. "Earn that belt buckle first, big boy, and then we'll see." Lando bursts out laughing, a high-pitched, gasping one that makes you laugh hard as the beat fades.

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Lando stands in the bar, the same one just a week ago, and you two stand in your same spots, but this time you don't wear your daddy's hat; instead, you're wearing Lando's and possibly the white dress shirt from last night. "Is that your shirt?" Oscar asks, and Lando turns and shrugs but knowing damn well it was.

"It sucks we won't be able to see them again?" Lando tunes it out. You and he talked about it last night. And you both knew that this could work; besides, he was your country song, and you his Whiskey; you two weren't goin nowhere. "Yeah right; JD was so damn happy with their show they invited them to their private booth for Vegas," Jackie yells, and Lando smirks and moves through the darkness.

You yelp when cold hands touch your skin, and you turn, smirking when you see those sea-green eyes you love so much. "So Vegas, uh?" He asks, and you sigh rolling your eyes. "Yeah, Judd wants to go." "Really not to see me?" "Okay, maybe you too." You tease, and Lando nods and leans in, kissing you gently before pulling.

"So, how about it's only fair you spend a week in my world now?" You think it over, wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod. "Only fair," "Yeah, only fair." You muse and hear gagging beside you and turn, glaring at Cassie, who is wearing round pink-tinted glasses. "You two make me sick. Bad enough, we heard you all last night; now we gotta see this?" Cassie groans while Judd cackles.

"Leave the kids alone, grandma. They're in love." "What'd you just call me?" Judd yelps as Cassie smacks him hard with her drumstick. Turning back, you face Lando. "Tell me your coworkers aren't like this?" Lando laughs nervously and shrugs. "We're totally fucked," Lando and you giggle as you hear Jackie yell loudly, introducing you 3, bringing back a sense of deja vu.

But you knew the cute Brit behind the bar was coming home with you this time. "Go kill it, Whiskey." Running onto the stage, you smile into the bright spotlight. "Alright, we're starting off with something new. It's called Tennessee Whiskey,"

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wardenparker · 4 months

Text

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

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macfrog · 6 months

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if patrick bateman were a woman

cowboy like me [bonus chapter]

surprise!! happy halloween!!!! may your day be spooky and your sex be filthy. here's a bonus chapter of clm to celebrate. love y'all !!! despite being cowboy joel and his reader, this is not canon. does not happen in the cowboy like me series. i wish. it's just a little bit of spooky szn fun with my two favorite star-crossed lovers. !!!

pairing: dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

summary: sarah throws a halloween party. you and joel have a little too much fun.

warnings: as pwp as a macfrog fic can get, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), lil bit titty appreciation, a singular daddy mention, a single slice of degradation, but also praise kink, unprotected piv sex, creampie, it's set on halloween, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🧡

Ice, pretzels, lime juice. Ice, pretzels, lime juice.

I’m giving you one job. Ice, pretzels, lime juice. That’s it.

That sounds like three jobs, you’d said.

Sarah ignored you. Be here at seven, alright? Ice – pretzels – lime juice!

It’s seven thirty. You’re finally on her front porch. The tiny section of bare skin between your stockings and black skirt is pimpled with goosebumps. With each inhale you suck in the sickly-sweet scent of fake blood, splattered across your face. You have a bag of ice slung over one arm, a bag of pretzels balanced on top, a bottle of juice hanging from your fingers and an axe under your elbow.

Only – it’s not lime juice. And the axe is plastic.

Sarah opens the door and spots your blunder instantly. “That’s lemon.”

“I know. They didn’t have any lime.”

“They didn’t have any lime? Where the hell did you go?”

“It’s Halloween, Sarah. Everybody and their fucking grandma is drinking tonight. Lemon tastes the exact –”

“Ah!” She holds a finger up. Her red cape flutters in the breeze. “It does not taste the same. Otherwise, why would it be two separate things?”

“Hey, Wonder Woman,” you drone, “mind letting me in? I’m fucking freezing.”

She scoffs, and steps aside. Mutters, “’s not the same thing,” as you pass.

You click down the hall, head rolling to check out her decorating. The living room and kitchen are lit by constellations of tiny tealights, flickering and blinking and casting tall, warped shadows across the walls. There’s a purple neon sign sat against the wall that reads Spooky. By the fireplace sit the two pumpkins she and her boyfriend carved last night; she’d sent you photos and asked you to pick a winner. When you chose the Iron Man head over the silhouette of Tinkerbell, she sent back a middle finger emoji.

Y: It’s cleaner cut. What do you expect? Shoddy work, Miller.

S: asshole.

Sarah’s slotting the ice into the freezer. Struggling, by the sound of it. You swing back into the kitchen to find Wonder Woman on her ass, hammering her fist against the frozen pack to fit it in.

You’re about to offer help, when someone else does it for you. Someone lower, gravellier. A voice like thunder in the distance, a storm approaching.

“You need a hand?” he asks, and when you turn, you almost drop your fucking axe.

He glances to you as he emerges from the dark hallway, the warm glow licking at his graying flicks of hair, nestling in the deep-set lines on his face. His eyes dart down to where your fingers now clutch the plastic handle, holding it against the hem of your skirt like it’ll do anything to cover your modesty.

Your modesty, meaning – the line of sexy black lace curling around your thighs, snug against the supple skin.

What the fuck are you doing here? you mouth, as Joel paces across the kitchen towards his daughter.

He shrugs, palms outstretched. It’s my house?

You roll your eyes, run your tongue like lightning across your scarlet lips. Sarah straightens up, huffs hair from her face and stares blankly at Joel.

He bends, takes the entire bag in one huge palm, and reorganizes the drawer with the other. Your eye drifts to his bicep, flexing under the tight seam of a dark tee. The bag of ice cradled in his arm leaves weak little droplets, running down the tan skin to the crook of his elbow. You want to fucking lick them up, gather the frozen beads on your tongue, hike up up up to the curve of his shoulder, the crook of his neck, the –

“Hey.” Sarah clicks her fingers in front of your face. “You hearin’ me?”

“Huh? No, yeah. No. I wasn’t lis– What did you say?”

She sighs again. Joel groans as he pushes off his knee and stands tall behind her. Wipes the water from his arm with one swipe of his palm.

“Would you put these in a bowl?” his daughter asks, shoving the bag of pretzels into your suited chest. She shuffles off, announcing she’s going to pick a playlist for the night.

Suited is perhaps giving you too much credit. You’re in a mini skirt and waistcoat, a red tie slung loose around your neck. You’ve a clear poncho draped over your shoulders, but with the heat from the million and one fucking candles – and the flush that the forty-something-year-old with his wide frame and fitted sweatpants and toned chest and his big fucking hands has cast over you – it’ll soon be discarded to the newel post.

But when you reach up for the bowl on the top shelf of the cabinet, pushing forward with a palm on the countertop, the marble digging into your pelvis and forcing your ass to jut out – you think yourself pretty fucking smug to be in a skirt that hugs your cheeks and not much else.

You turn, the lip of the bowl in your fingers, and smile sweetly at Joel, whose gaze returns north as you approach him.

“You got nothin’ better to do with your night than babysit a bunch of twenty-five-year-olds?” you murmur, spilling the bag into the blue bowl. You place a pretzel on your tongue, humming at the taste.

Joel smiles, popping the cap off his beer. He spills the amber liquid into his mouth. “I’ll be in my room.”

Your eyebrows lift. “That so? You need any company in there?”

“Nope. Rangers game is on. I’ll be busy.”

The words ghost across your lips. You’ll be busy, you breathe. Joel nods. Then looks you up and down.

“American Psycho?”

“What?”

He flicks his wrist up and down your figure. “What’s his name, again? Pat–”

“Patrick Bateman,” you say together. You nod.

“That’s the one.” Then he turns, leans his jaw nearer until his lips line with your ear. Your eyes shoot across to the empty doorway. Sarah’s skipping song after song in the living room.

Joel’s finger slips beneath the lace trim of your stockings, tugging gently. “I don’t remember ‘im in these, though,” he says, voice low.

You gulp. Swallow to push your heart back into place. “Well,” you glance down, lifting your thigh closer to him, “if he were a woman, he woulda dressed like this.”

“That’s somethin’ I’d like to see,” Joel murmurs, eyes locked on the place where lace separates from skin.

“Yeah?”

He nods. Growls, “Yeah.”

And then he’s walking away.

Within an hour, the house is jumping. Literally. Almost.

You sit at the kitchen island, sipping on a beer, staring down the hall at the sea of bodies – of nylon and polyester, of purples and oranges, of headbands and props and cloaks and hats. There are a lot more than forty people here – a lot more than Sarah intended to turn up.

A lot more than you know, too. She’s barely even four years younger than you, but most of these kids look like they just walked out of middle school. Of the handful of faces you recognize, one is sat opposite you, his arm draped over Sarah’s shoulder, her hand locked in his. She and Ty have been dating for a year now, surviving long-distance when she jets back off to school every few months.

The other you know, unfortunately for you, is swaying by your side. Leaning a little too heavily into you. Asking you questions about college, and then talking over your answers to tell you stories about his college. Asking you questions about films you like, and then interrupting to gawk at the titles you reel off. The only times he doesn’t jump in over your answer, are the times he’s asking who you think might win in a fight between prime Mike Tyson and prime Muhammad Ali. And that’s only because you don’t have an answer to give him.

Jace. Ty’s best friend. Fucking – loser.

“And who the fuck are you s’posed to be, anyways?” he asks, slinging a heavy arm over your shoulder. He reeks of beer, warm and stale. His jaw’s swinging, cheeks popping and suckling on a shriveled piece of gum.

You scowl, shrugging the uncomfortable weight from the nape of your neck. “Patrick Bateman,” you mutter.

“Who?”

“Christian Bale. You know, when he –” Sarah mimes lifting an axe over her shoulder, takes a swing through the air, across the island to Jace.

“No fucking idea,” he says, shaking his head. You’re not surprised.

“Where’s your axe?” Ty asks, as Sarah nuzzles back into his side.

You shrug. “Saw someone using it to stir the punch earlier. ‘s probably in the toilet or something.”

He laughs, flashing his dimpled cheeks. He’s got glistening eyes beneath long, black eyelashes. He’s handsome. Sharp jaw, full lips. Sarah links her fingers at his side, plants her cheek against his shoulder. She’s comfortable. She’s safe. Your chest warms at the sight.

He squeezes her arm, and they share a meaningful glance before there’s a yell from across the kitchen, and their attention is diverted.

When they turn to watch two of Sarah’s high school friends sword-fighting, wielding a plastic lightsaber and your axe, you slink off, swiping two beers from the fridge. Swift and silent, you scale the stairs and fade into the darkened hallway at the top, in pursuit of your own dark-eyed, sharp-jawed comfort.

The sliver of light at the end of the hall draws you in, footsteps silent along the soft carpet. Up here, tucked away in the corner of the house, far from the rattling music and rumble of boisterous chatter – you can hear the soft roar of a crowd, the crack of ball against bat.

Your hip nudges the door open, trickle of condensation running over your knuckles. Joel’s eyes are already on you. He’s laying on his bed, legs outstretched, knee cocked. One arm lies idly on his thigh. You get the feeling he shifted it quickly when he saw the door move.

He balances his chin on the end of the remote, purses his lips and lifts his head. “Now,” he mumbles, “you’re s’posed to be downstairs.”

You shrug, holding the bottles up. “Thought you might need a top-up.”

His eyes thin. He sits up straight, swings his legs over the edge of the bed. You come to a stop between his knees, holding the beer down to him. He hums, taking it with his eyes locked on yours.

“Thanks, darlin’,” he says, and his eyes begin to drift down.

You tilt your head back at the same time he does, lifting the lip of your own bottle. The cold drink washes over your tongue, bitter and blunt in its taste, leaving a furry feeling on your gums. When your chin lowers again, Joel’s hand is on the back of your thigh.

He’s staring at the two knolls between you – your breasts round, nipples peaking under the tight waistcoat.

“Welcome,” you reply, swirling the liquid around in the curved glass. Your voice is barely there. But he hears you, and he must hear the want laced deep through that one quiet word, because he instantly slides his beer onto his nightstand.

He curves both hands around your thighs, fingers lifting higher and higher between your legs until they’re crossing over lace and onto bare skin.

You shuffle forward, leaning your arms on his shoulders and propping your knees on the bed either side of his body. Your skirt rides up, exposing the shard of shocking red lace beneath the pinstripe material.

Joel sees it. Like it’s a rag and he’s a bull. It charges something deep inside him. Something that awakens beneath the thin line of fabric between your legs.

You can feel your pulse in your clit. Fluttering, fucking – hammering. Your cunt feels painfully empty, clenching around nothing. Joel’s palms surf across the tops of your thighs until his fingers are teetering along the hem of your skirt.

“Off,” he instructs, swatting the poncho away.

You shake it from your shoulders the same way you shook the blond downstairs off. Joel nods as the material crumples to the floor. He hooks a hand under your knee and yanks your body closer to his. You almost throw the beer bottle across his bed.

“J– fucking hell, my –”

“Shut up,” he clips, and grabs the beer from your grasp to deposit it alongside his own.

His hands find the tiny buttons of your waistcoat, fingers slip through the gaps between them where your skin peeks through. You can feel his hot breath on your chest. A wave of need washes over you, a desire from deep within your marrow to feel him everywhere. His breath, his tongue, his hands. All of him.

Your entire body weight rests on his shoulders, your fingers locking his shirt in two tight fists. Joel doesn’t seem to mind. Barely seems to notice. He pulls apart the first button, watches with a dark gaze as your breasts spill over. The second button pops open easily, and they bounce lower. When he unhooks the third, they drop into place, nipples pointed, welcoming him in between them.

“Dirty fuckin’ girl,” he whispers as he leans in, mouth flattening against the smooth skin between them. “No bra or nothin’.”

“Knew you’d be here,” you reply, head rolling back as he licks a trail across to the darker flesh of your nipple. His lips close around it and he suckles gently. Your nails dig into his scalp.

He pushes the waistcoat over your shoulders and it drops to the carpet, pooled inside the shell of poncho. As soon as it falls, his hands begin the climb up the seam of your thigh, resting on the brush of red – where he feels the quickly dampening mark on the fabric.

“Thought as much,” he says, head cocking to watch your expression warp as he rubs slow circles into your clit. His voice is as soft as his touch, innocent almost, when he asks, “She like that?”

“Ye-ah,” you choke, leaning back.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and uses his other hand to fish beneath his sweatpants. He rubs himself under the gray cotton, watches as your fingers clutch at the waistband to tug it down, releasing him.

His heavy cock springs up between your bodies, dabs precome on the pointed tail of your tie. You giggle, loosening the knot and pulling the thin silk over your head. Your hands wrap around him, twisting and pumping and dragging the milky arousal from his slit down the smooth, warm skin. Joel’s breath catches when your thumbs swipe across his head.

His fingers slip behind your knees and pull them apart, pull them wider on the mattress. You lean forward, chest brushing against his parted lips, taking your panties in one hand and guiding him along your slit with the other.

You cover him in your arousal, the veined skin soon slick and pearlescent. His wide head slips between your opening, notching against your entrance and forcing the breath from your lungs.

His hands sit firmly on your waist, pushing down on your hips, pushing and pushing until he sinks snug into your cunt. When he pauses, his mouth agape and eyes stuck on the sight of his body connecting to yours, you whine.

“More,” you mewl, voice dripping with need, drizzling all over him.

“We gotta –”

“More.”

“Baby,” Joel says, voice flat but crumbling. “We gotta go slow. I’m gonna – You’re gonna make me come, dressed like that, if we go too quick.”

But fuck, you want to feel him. Want him to buck his hips and fill you in one go – fuck the pain. Fuck the discomfort, fuck the way your walls would clamp in a vice grip around him. You want him to fuck you. Want to be fucked so good that you have to time your moaning with the bassline of the music downstairs, unable to contain the sounds in your throat. Fucked so good that you waddle out of the room, that you fling yourself back onto the couch and wince in pain, a sharp memory of the breadth of him shooting between your legs.

Your hips circle, the heat of your cunt swirling around and around on his tip. He groans, hands tightening on your waist to hold you still.

“Stop it, darlin’,” he growls, the words clawing from between his teeth.

“F-fuck me, then,” you moan, curling your back to slowly edge down on him.

“Ask nicer.”

You smile, heavy lids falling closed. “Please?”

His hands roam around the curve of your ass. He starts to push again. “Nicer.”

Your mouth opens wider the further he slides into you. The more he claims of your body, the further you open for him, the warmer your welcome. Your head tips back, eyes tighten until you see stars. When you feel a weight around your neck, you flutter your lashes open, blink the cyan-colored sparkles from your vision.

Joel pulls your jaw back down to face him. Squeezes on your pulse, holding you between his middle finger and thumb.

“Nicer,” he demands.

You lean in, small hands linking around his thick wrist. “Fuck me, please, daddy,” you whisper.

And he smiles like a fucking devil. Eyes drawn black like ink. He pulls you in until your chin brushes against the rough bristle of his own, lines his bottom lip with yours.

Into your mouth, he asks, “You think you can take it, babygirl? Think it’ll fit?”

You nod desperately, anchoring yourself on his wrist. “Know it will.”

He’s only halfway in. Your heartbeat is thudding around your body, focusing hardest on your clit. Your hips move again, and Joel allows it, sitting back to watch as you sink down further.

“Go on,” he says, watching your body slowly attach to his, “’f you think you can do it. Be a big girl ‘n take it. Slow.”

Something caught between a laugh and a whimper drags between your painted lips – something dripping in desire, built from a need to prove yourself to him, to take all of him inside your body, to feel him in the deepest parts of yourself. You push on him, loosen his grip around your neck and flatten your palms on his chest. And you curve your back, pushing him deeper.

“’s my girl,” Joel says, quietly, as if to himself. “This what you wanted? Comin’ up here, dressed like that?”

Your teeth hold onto your bottom lip. “Like what?” you purr, leaning forward until your noses brush.

Joel tips his chin up, lips flush against yours. “Like a little fuckin’ slut.”

You laugh weakly, feeling him finally in his entirety. “Fuck.”

Joel’s hands take your waist, pushing you down until the pain sends bolts of lightning across your vision. The bruising feeling of his head against your cervix. The sweet stretch of your skin opening around his.

“Beggin’ for it, weren’t ya? ‘n now look, you can’t hardly take it.”

“I can take it,” you hiss back, bracing yourself on the mattress. Your hips lift, holding onto him, bouncing up and down steadily. “I can take it,” you repeat, like a mantra, like the only thing keeping you in the room still. The only thing reminding your body to keep moving.

Joel holds a palm steady against the bottom of your stomach, rubs his thumb delicately against your skin. “So deep, baby. ‘m so fuckin’ deep inside you. That feel nice?”

The meat of your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs. You’re quickening, eyes screwing shut. He feels so good. Fills you up so fucking good. Your legs start to loosen, knees weakening the more you fuck yourself on him. Your head drops between your shoulders when his thumb lowers, circles gently at your clit.

“Keep – keep doing that. Fuck, Joel – touch me. Keep touching me.”

“’boutta come, ain’t you?”

“Sh-shut up.”

“Yeah,” he says, “she’s about to come.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, hips rolling now, losing rhythm between the split of his cock inside you and the lull of his thumb on your clit. Your back arches, vision begins to blur. Your lungs close in on themselves as you give one final gasp to the ceiling, and let go.

Your walls clamp hard around him, and in one swift movement, your bodies are flipped. When you open your eyes again, you’re on your back, Joel’s figure towering over you.

“’attagirl,” he mutters, palms flat against the underside of your thighs. He pushes them flat, folding you in two, your knees resting by your shoulders. “So close, darlin’. Ain’t gonna last.”

You’re shaking your head, holding onto his neck, thighs trembling. “I – can’t, Joel.”

“Yeah, you can. You can,” he assures, dipping his head to place his lips on yours. Your mouth opens up for him, tongue falls against his own. It’s barely a kiss – you’re licking at one another, sure, but there’s nothing tender or gentle about it. Joel pulls away only to glance down and guide himself back inside you. “Gonna be my good girl, aren’t you? Gonna make me come.”

With one seamless thrust, he’s back inside you, pressing your legs harder against your torso. You whine, a blur of pain and pleasure mixing where he fucks you.

“Good girl,” he says, tongue skimming along his top lip. “Nice ‘n wide, that’s it.”

Your back arches into him, arms tighten around his neck, lips settle curved around his own. You’re moaning, his name releasing itself from your mouth in shots of breath. Joel takes your knee and hooks it over his shoulder, letting the other fall to his hip. The angle forces him deeper. Deeper and harder.

But he’s starting to jump. Bucking randomly. He’s panting your name, teeth grazing against your neck in attempt to hold on just a little longer, feel you squeeze him a little more.

“You’re close,” you slur.

“’m close,” he says.

“Gonna come in me –?”

“Baby –”

“– ’n send me – ah – back downstairs full of you? Runnin’ outta me?”

Joel’s head shakes. His eyes tighten. “Fuck, darlin’. Dirty fuckin’ mouth.”

“C’mon,” you beg, “give it to – m-me.”

His hips hammer against yours, punching against the edge of your cunt harshly. You sob out, nails digging into his shoulders, until he halts, and you feel the warmth of him spurting deep inside your body. Feel the way he tenses, empties, and stills.

Your head falls back against the mattress. Joel’s still nuzzled against your neck, breathing labored, lips soaking wet against your skin. You sift your fingers through his hair, combing through it as he comes to.

His chest rocks against yours. Feeling starts to sharpen again, the orgasmic haze starting to bleed into the past. The walls of the house thud with the music from downstairs. You feel the weight of his body on top of yours again.

“Up,” you groan, pushing on his shoulders.

Joel scoffs, pushing against the mattress and rolling over beside you. He slips out, his spend seeping out and spilling onto your thigh.

Your fingers intertwine with his by your side, your nails scrawling into his knuckles.

“I miss you, when you ain’t around,” Joel whispers, glossy eyes blinking at the ceiling. “I’m bored up here.”

You roll onto your side, run your fingers over the halo of sweat around the collar of his shirt. “Good think I ain’t far, then. ‘m only downstairs.”

He smiles. “Downstairs is too far.”

You lean over him and place a soft kiss on his rough cheek. “Just have to keep you at my hip then, don’t I?”

His head turns and his lips find yours. He cups the globe of your head, pulls you harder against his jaw, runs his tongue along your teeth. When you pull away, you shift the damp hair from his glistening forehead.

“You ruined my tie, by the way,” you tell him. “The hell am I supposed to say that is?”

Joel shrugs. “If Patrick Bateman were a woman, ‘n all that.”

#i wrote this in one sitting so please forgive if it's garbage #but halloween has SUCKED for me this year and it's my favorite holiday SO i had to mark it somehow #anyways #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel

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rosepascal · 1 year

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Taken It Easy | Joel Miller Smut

summary: “Don’t fucking stop, baby.” or you ride a cowboy (even if Joel says he ain't one)

warnings: Smut, NSFW 18+, Minors DNI, oral (male receiving), afab!reader, swearing, Pre!outbreak Joel so he's 35, creampie, unprotected, badly written southern accent lol

a/n: After those esquire pictures i had to cook something up for our man Joel here

You hated watching Joel work such long hours. He worked hard and it seemed he never let himself take a break or even breathe. Especially this week, Sarah was off on a week long trip with her best friends and you know that Joel is probably living off beer and Chinese take out. It sounds bad but you're almost happy that he got hurt on the job.

Nothing serious but enough to keep him home on recovery. When Tommy called you didn't hesitate to volunteer for nurse duty. Joel's very capable but he couldn't take care of himself for shit. You expected to see him on the couch or in bed but when you walked into his house he was nowhere to be found.

"Dammit." You huff as you set down the bag you brought. Heading upstairs you find him in Sarah's room. Moving heavy furniture that he definitely shouldn't be moving.

"Joel Miller!" You scold and he jumps.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Crossing your arms you stare him down. Not intimated by the man in the slightest.

"Sarah's been buggin' me about this drawer." He says simply.

"Get your ass on the couch cowboy." He starts to argue but you shake your head.

"You're not wining this one Joel." He winces as he pulls himself up and makes his way downstairs. Opening his fridge you sigh at the sight of empty shelves and a pack of beer.

"You're gonna die at an early age if all you're eating is beer and eggs Joel." He shrugs and turns on the TV to some mindless show.

He's not used to doing nothing and it drives him a little crazy. But it's easier with you around. He watches as you move around his home, it comes with such ease. You know the place like the back of your hand because it's practically your home.

"Come sit please, watching you run around is makin' me dizzy." He smiles that sweet smile and you can't say no. Falling onto the couch next to him and wasting no time in snuggling up to him.

"I ain't a cowboy by the way." He says and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

"Earlier you called me a cowboy." Sure he may not really be one. But you don't really care about that. What you do know is your boyfriend is one strong, sexy, southern man.

"I don't know, you got that accent. Strong hands, look sexy in jeans." You purr as you run your hand down his chest. His eyes darken as he lets out a small groan.

"Can't be sayin' that kinda stuff to me baby." He reaches over for you but stops, cursing under his breath a shot of pain runs through his body.

"Just lay back cowboy, let me give ya the ride of a lifetime." You tease as you gently push his shoulders back.

Your lips are on his in an instant as his hands roam your body, squeezing and slipping under your shirt to feel your bare skin.

"Let me take care of you alright?" He nods and you move his hands off your body and onto the couch.

Unbuckling his belt as quickly as you can to set his hardening cock free. He lifts his hips to pull down his jeans and boxers as you strip down to your underwear. Your hands wrap around his cock and pump it slow and hard.

"Everything really is bigger in Texas." He rolls his eyes at your shitty joke and bucks his hips up.

"Shut up." He grumbles.

Grinning you lick from the base to his tip, moaning loudly as he twitches in your hands. You continue to tease him as you kitten lick his tip, loving the way he grips the couch and throws his head back in pleasure. The steady pumping of your hand is nice and all but he craves to be buried deep into that tight cunt.

"Enough of that, get up here." He commands and you climb into his lap. He snaps the band of your panties and you whine. He slips two fingers deep inside of you without warning making you groan.

"Already this wet for me." He says with a smirk as he pulls them out.

"Need you now." You growl as you slide your panties to the side and sit on his dick.

"Fuck!" His hands fly to your hips as nothing but pleasure consumes him.

He wasn't expecting you to take all of him at once but he sure as hell wasn't complaining. You waste no time in bouncing hard and fast on his cock. Focused on Joel and him alone.

Your hands weave into his hair as you shove his face into your chest. His lips messily kiss all over your shoulder and neck. Biting down on your shoulder as you fuck his cock into you.

“Don’t fucking stop, baby.” He begs as his starts to move your hips.

"Don't plan on it." You purr into his ear. His cock pounds into you, the obscene sounds of sex fill the room as you bounce with no sign of stopping.

"Shit baby, not gonna last long." He grabs your ass and squeezes hard, slapping it hard as you slam down onto him. He tries to pull you off but you resist. Opting to grind down on his thighs instead.

"Want your cum so badly, please please." You whine loudly and he swears.

"Anything you want sweetheart." He wraps his arms around you and thrusts his hips up wildly.

Grunting loudly into your ear until he comes hard. His fingers rub against your clit roughly until you flutter around him. Burying your face in his neck as you bask in the feeling of being completely full. He rubs your back gently, grounding the both of you back to reality.

"How you feeling cowboy?" You ask lazily. He hums and lays down on the couch, pulling a blanket over you.

"Feel fucking amazing." Your head lays on his chest as he turns the TV back on.

"Thought you weren't a cowboy?" You say cheekily. He looks at you and smirks.

"Baby, you can call me whatever the hell you want if it leads to that."

#Joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you

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inbarfink · 8 months

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Okay, it took me a Bit to parse out What the Hell is Happening in this lil' piece of AA Official Art, but I think it's:

Larry/Yahari is gushing about his idea of an Ideal Sexy American Woman; some sort of busty tanned blonde wearing a Sexy Cowboy Cheerleader Outfit.

(usually I use just the English-Localized Names when talking about AA characters but it'll be a Bit Weird here when the fact they are viewing AmericaTM from an outsider's perspective is vital)

Phoenix/Ryūichi is like "I dunno, the only American Woman I know is Franziska/Mei and she's some sort of crazy power-hungry domineering monster with a whip..................."

Maya/Mayoi is lowkey like "whoa when you put it like that that IS kinda hot...."

And Miles/Reiji is Too Gay To Have This Converstaion.

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loko4koko · 4 months

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Cowboy Toji. He's taken over my mind. Imagine him tied up with his own rope, commanding you to help him, but instead, we tease him till he's all hot and bothered.

oh my sweet anon you have NO idea how this ask has affected me 😭 as someone who used to be heavy in the rdr2 fandom, i have a LOT (A LOT) of thoughts about sexy yummy cowboy men hehe

gn!reader but they do wear a dress!

MDNI 18+ BELOW THE CUT

cowboy!toji—well, he isn’t just a cowboy, he’s a bounty hunter. one of the best around, too. he has no rivals because everyone knows they aren’t even close to being as tough as him. he’ll hog tie a bounty right up (or shoot them if they’re being a pain in the ass), sling ‘em on the back of his horse, and when he’s done dropping them at the sheriff’s, he’ll use the hefty reward to celebrate at the nearby saloon.

only, toji may have celebrated a little too hard this time, ‘cause he fell victim to one of the oldest scams in the book. 4 whiskey shots and 2 beers in, toji gets approached by a working girl, and she’s real pretty, too, so who would he be to say no to a little company? so he stumbles off with her, following her lead to a secluded room in the saloon. but what happens there is far from what toji had expected.

when he wakes up, only a couple of hours later, he can’t see anything. the room is dark, and…why does it feel so cold? there’s a grimace on toji’s face as he tries to get up from what he thinks is the floor, only to realize his limbs are completely immobile. ‘that fucking girl…” he thinks, hissing as the ropes tied around his almost completely naked form dig into his flesh. he’s left in nothing but his underwear, grumbling angrily to himself while he tries desperately to wriggle out of his binds. that girl must’ve been a pro at this, though, ‘cause those ropes aren’t budgin’.

you’re in the storage room next door, organizing the newest case of liqour when you hear it. there’s someone groaning, some shuffling, and it startles the hell out of you. you set the box full of alcohol aside and listen further, and when the person swears your eyes widen. you tiptoe your way out to the hall, pressing your ear up against the door of the second, empty storage room. “goddamn thievin’ girl..shit..” you hear them say. it’s a man’s voice, real deep and boy, does he sound angry. your curiosity gets the best of you in the end, so you push the door open, reaching to turn on the lantern near the entrance. it takes a second for your eyes to adjust but when they do, your breath hitches.

there’s a man—just like you’d heard from the other room—and he’s..oh. your face grows hot as you take in the compromising position he seems to be in. his short black hair is tousled, scar on his lip twisted up as he tries to wriggle himself free, and when he looks up at you, it’s like a switch flips inside of you.

“ya mind givin’ me a hand here, doll?”

those dark, brooding eyes follow your every movement as you cross the short distance to reach him. you drop to the floor in front of him, dirtying the long skirt of your dress but you couldn’t care less. you’ve heard stories of a famous bounty hunter, one who could clear rooms with his gaze alone. the one with the scar and the midnight black stallion. the man who rides through the night like death incarnate. the one and only toji fushiguro. and here he was, bound in his own ropes, right in front of you.

your eyes are full of wonder as you take him in, hand subconsciously reaching out to smooth a thumb across his scarred lip. it’s real. he’s real. and he’s bared before you, wrapped up like a present that only you know about. your fingers skip a path down to his chiseled jaw, then further, down past the thick cords of his neck, before they come to a stop on his broad chest. the skin is flawed—healed knife slashes and bullet grazings etched across his pale flesh—but still so soft, so inviting with how it ripples under your delicate touch. as you explore him, your thumb brushes his nipple and he shudders, steely eyes boring into you when you meet his stare.

“this ain’t what i meant by ‘givin’ me a hand, sweetheart’,” he says, voice rumbling low.

“i- i’m sorry, do you..want me to stop?”

he’s silent for a long moment, jaw clenched tight while your hand hovers just off of his toned abdomen. your palm is so close you can still feel the heat radiating from him, and it’s killing you how badly you want that heat on you directly from the source.

“no.”

so you don’t stop. your hands are fully on him now, groping at his chest and caressing his stomach. and when your hand trails lower, your eyes meet his again and he holds your gaze quietly. you can feel how hard he is through his underwear, can feel how hot and big and throbbing he is. lip between your teeth, you take the plunge and grip him tight, barely able to wrap your hand around the girthy shaft. he hisses, eyes still on you, unwavering in their confidence. it doesn’t matter to toji that he’s the one restrained, he knows (in his sober state) that he could intimidate anyone into backing down, and you’re no exception. but there’s something in him, something that he sees in you that has him keening at your touch. in him- addicted, in you- addicting.

you’ve reduced this big, burly, violent man into a grunting mess. there’s sticky spots of pre staining his underwear and his head has fallen back between his bulky shoulders and fuck, he wants to cum, so bad—so fucking bad—but you’re not as sweet as you look, keep slowing the pump of your wrist down when his hips start to grind up into the strokes.

are you going to be nice, be kind to this scary man? or are you going to leave him there, high and dry? choose wisely, he’s a professional at finding people who’ve wronged him…

>thank u for reading ♡︎

>masterlist.exe

>send a request here!

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk toji #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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javierpena-inatacvest · 9 months

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Chapter 8: My Favorite Cowboy

Summary: After finding out things aren't going as planned with Javi's project on the ranch, you come over to help. You spend the day meeting Javi's dad, learning about the Peña ranch, and Javi surprising you with a night that you won't ever forget.

Word Count: 12.2K (I'm not sorry about it!!!)

Warnings: SMUT (18+, but it's the most romantic smut I've ever written UGH), unprotected p in v sex (don't be silly, wrap your willy), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, creampie, praise, mentions of food/eating, mentions of grief/loss of a parent, Chucho Peña not letting his son have a moment of peace, Javi being a hot handsome cowboy, FLUFF FLUFF SO MUCH FLUFF Javi is a lovesick FOOL for you

A/N: Just when I thought I couldn't cram anymore in to this chapter, here we are. I wasn't planning on it ending the way it did but I literally just couldn't help myself because these two are so obsessed with each other that I'm not even mad about it. That's all I will say!!! As always, thank you so much for everyone who reads/commments/reblogs/is invested in this story, you all mean so much to me and appreciate all your kind words!!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

As you hung up the phone with Javi, the reality of your conversation hit you like a ton of bricks. Not only had you just volunteered yourself to go over to Javi’s ranch for the first time, you had also signed up to meet his dad, bring them food, and help with their project? Today was turning out to be a much bigger day than anticipated. Of course you had wanted to see the Peña ranch and meet Javi’s father. Those were two things you knew were both incredibly important to him. That’s why it made you so nervous. You liked Javi. You more than liked him. You wanted more than anything to make a good impression when you met his family, and now that impression depended on a sandwich and your ability to build a fence.

Thankful you went to the grocery store yesterday, you stared at your fridge before collecting some lunch meat, cheese, and toppings. Unsure of what sandwiches the Peña men would want, you packed a cooler full of 10 different types, each labeled and wrapped in tinfoil, hoping there would be enough variety that they could find at least one they liked. You also threw in the rest of your chocolate chip cookies from last night, along with a bag of potato chips, a few cans of Coke and some bottles of beer. Staring at the cooler, you began to panic, fearing Javi’s dad was going to think you were a crazy person for showing up with so much food, but the thought of him thinking that you didn’t show up with enough was even more terrifying. Realizing that you had spent way longer than expected trying to perfect lunch, you quickly rushed to your room to try and pick out something to wear. Shuffling through your closet, you sighed to yourself, absolutely unsure of what to pick out. What the hell says I’ve missed my hot, sexy boyfriend, I’m excited to meet your dad for the first time, and I’m here to help you build a fence? Nothing. The answer is nothing. Knowing you were tight on time, you just had to go with the first outfit you pulled- denim shorts and a striped short sleeved t-shirt, throwing your hair half up in a clip, hoping to at least look semi-cute before you were a sweaty mess from the hot, Texan heat. Throwing on a little bit of makeup and a healthy dose of deodorant, you grabbed your purse, cooler, and Javi’s directions before heading out the door.

You couldn’t have been more grateful that your AC was deciding to cooperate in your car today, 1- Because your nerves already had you sweating enough, and 2- the fear of losing Javi’s directions out the open window of your car would have sent you over the edge. You drove the first half of your journey in silence, your free leg bouncing rapidly as you triple checked each turn on the directions. You tried to tell yourself there was nothing to worry about. You were a likable person, right? You pleaded with your brain to cut it out with the “what-if” scenarios, but you couldn’t help yourself.

What if his dad is annoyed you’re coming over? What if he’s mad about how much time Javi has been spending with you? What if he thinks that your sandwiches are the worst that he’s ever had in his life? What if he just doesn’t like you? Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

Your knuckles clenched the steering wheel, as you tried to think of something to snap you out of your stress. Pulling down your overhead visor, you plucked through the CD’s you had stashed up there, grabbing your favorite hype music you and your brothers played before every hockey game. Skipping through the first few tracks, you cranked up the volume as a loud “OI, OI, OI” blasted through the speakers. You weren’t really sure that T.N.T. by AC/DC was an appropriate song to settle your nerves before meeting your boyfriend’s dad for the first time, but by the end of the song, you felt a little more relieved. With only a few more turns left in your trip, you lowered your music and took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself as you found yourself on your last step of directions, making your way down a long, dirt road. Along both sides, the road was lined with bright green fields of farmland, the long grass gently swaying from the breeze. You passed a few ranches spread few and far between each other, turning your head as you drove by to make sure none of them were your destination. As you approached the 5th house on the right, according to Javi’s directions, you breathed a sigh of relief as you turned into the driveway, greeted by a weathered sign reading “Peña Ranch.”

The nervous feeling in your gut began to build again, palms sweaty as you pushed against the steering wheel, parking behind Javi’s truck like he had asked on the phone. As you turned off the ignition, you sat in your car for a few moments, working up your courage before exiting, grabbing your cooler and heading down the remainder of the gravel driveway to the front door. Looking around, you were amazed by the beautiful acres of farmland that surrounded the quaint ranch in front of you. Bushes of beautiful flowers lined the front of the house, colorful roses and hydrangeas creeping just below the big windows glistening in the sunshine. As you stepped on to the porch, you noticed two rocking chairs set side by side, slowly moving back and forth from the wind. You took one last deep breath as your free hand tightened to a fist, getting ready to tap on the front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Nothing.

Knock, knock, knock. This time a little louder, more force behind your rapping knuckles.

Still silent.

“Hello?” you raised your voice slightly.

No response.

You stood there for a moment, wondering what to do. You weren’t just going to stand there like an idiot until someone came to answer, and you weren’t going to wander the property with a cooler full of sandwiches looking for Javi and his dad. You figured your next best bet was to try the door, hoping that maybe someone was inside and just hadn’t heard you. Hesitantly twisting the doorknob, you quietly let yourself in, gently closing the door behind you.

Peeking through the doorway, you were greeted by the warm interior of the Peña home. The walls were painted in a soft, creamy beige, covered by pictures and portraits of who you assumed to be friends and family. The first picture in the entryway was of a beautiful woman who looked like she was laughing and dancing. She had long, dark curls and a vibrant smile, her laugh lines stretched across her cheeks. It couldn’t have been anyone besides Javi’s mother, their faces were practically identical. As you stepped further into the house through the living room, you found a picture of a baby in nothing but giant cowboy boots, hat, and diaper. You giggled to yourself, knowing that it had to be a little baby Javi, drowning in whoever had put him in full cowboy attire.

“He was a cute baby, wasn’t he?”

The voice behind you had scared you so badly, you practically jumped through the roof.

“Oh, mija, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Chucho chuckled as you caught your breath.

“Mr. Peña, I’m so sorry, I tried to knock and no one answered and I didn’t want to wander around and go anywhere I shouldn’t and I-” You fumbled over your words, flustered and embarrassed that the first time Javi’s dad ever saw you was staring at a picture of your boyfriend in a diaper.

“Mija, sweetheart, please, call me Chucho. Señor Peña es mí papa. (Mr. Peña is my father.). You don’t need to apologize, that’s why the pictures are there, to be enjoyed. That one has always been one of my favorites.” He pointed back to Javi’s baby picture, you both laughing to yourselves.

“He was a very cute baby.” You set down your things, outstretching your hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Chucho, I’m-“

Before you could finish, Chucho had already wrapped you in his arms, embracing you in a tight hug. He held you there for a few seconds, smiles both stretching across your faces. “I know who you are, mija. I am so glad to finally meet you. I have heard so much about you.” He leaned back from your hug, still holding the sides of your arms as his eyes glistened. “It has been so long since I have seen my Javier so happy. He absolutely lov-”

“Pops! Give her some space, okay?” Javi’s familiar voice carried down the hallway behind you, cutting off the rest of his father’s sentence you were now very curious to hear the rest of. It didn’t take you long to become distracted by your thought, as Javi’s broad body strolled down the hallway, his gray t-shirt shirt clinging to his biceps, his sweat making his dark curls stick to his forehead. Even when he was a sweaty mess, he still looked delicious.

“Relájate, hijo. Quería saludarme a mí futura nuera.” (Relax son. I just wanted to say hello to my future daughter in law.) Chucho’s smirk couldn’t have been any bigger, and Javi’s cheeks couldn’t have been any redder.

“Pops, please stop.” Javi grumbled, obviously embarrassed.

“What’d you say? Sorry, I’ve been trying to work on my Spanish since moving here.” You tried to politely interject, very curious as to what was making Javi so flustered.

“Nothing, mija. Javier can tell you another time.” Chucho grinned, winking at his son as he rolled his eyes before burying his head in his hand.

“Alright.” You smiled at Javi, his face still flushed. “Well, I have lots of food if you’re hungry! I brought sandwiches, if that’s okay.” You held up your cooler, gesturing to its contents.

“Okay? More than okay, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m sure it is better than any lunch this old man could have thrown together. Javi, grab the cooler and some drinks, let’s head outside.”

“Mr. Peñ-“ You paused, correcting yourself as Chucho grinned at you. “Chucho. Really, I don’t mind carrying it, it’s not that heavy. And there’s some Coke and beer in there already if you want some!”

“Ella trajo cerveza? Ella te quiere mucho, Javier. La amo, tambien.” (And she brought beer? She really does love you, Javier. I love her too.)

“Jesus Christ…” Javi whispered under his breath. “Dad, please.” His voice a mix of firm and desperate.

“Fine, fine.” He replied, swatting his hand at his son. “Gracias, mija. That was very kind of you.”

“Of course.” You smiled as the three of you began walking through the kitchen and out to the back deck where a small picnic table sat in the shade of the overhang of the roof. The view from the back deck was breathtaking- miles of green pasture stretched across land, separated by a few lines of fencing housing sheep and cows to the right, and some horses to the left. “It’s absolutely beautiful here. Javi never told me how amazing it is.” You gave him a playful nudge as you sat down next to him, putting the cooler on the table and staring out in front of you.

“Yeah, I don’t know, different when you see it every day, I guess.” Javi shrugged nonchalantly.

“Are you kidding? After living in a city for so long, I don’t think I’d ever get over waking up to this every morning. Beats ugly gray buildings and taxis any day of the week.” You turned around to see Javi quickly dart his eyes away, trying to play off the fact he hadn’t just been gawking at you for the past few seconds.

“Thank you. I do love it here. Javier tells me you're from Chicago. Laredo must have been a big change for you, mija.”

“I guess. I lived in the suburbs growing up so I wasn’t in the city my whole life. I actually had been to Laredo before I moved here, which is part of the reason why I picked it. My best friend came here in high school for her dad’s job and I would visit every summer. I always loved how peaceful it was. Don’t get me wrong, I love Chicago, but I absolutely love it here too.” You softly smirked at Javi, as his hand reached down to grasp your leg, rubbing his thumb along your knee under the table. “Please, have something to eat! I made a lot because I didn’t know what sandwiches you like, so hopefully there’s something in there you want.”

Javi stood up to open the cooler and take out its contents, laughing and shaking his head as he saw what was inside. “Jesus Hermosa, were you planning on feeding an army today?” He started removing sandwich after sandwich, along with the rest of the cookies and chips.

“Sorry, I just didn’t know what people liked and-” You muttered, embarrassed by your excessive overpacking.

“She is just like your mamá, Javier. Nunca puede tener demasiada comida. You can never have too much food, she would always say. Thank you, mija. It all looks wonderful.”

You let out a small smile, relieved by his comment. “It’s the least I can do. I heard your project isn’t exactly going as planned so I wanted to do something small to help out.”

“It’s been a shit show. Better now that you’re here.” Javi smirked. “Can you pass me the turkey sandwich? And a cookie? Wait, did you make these?” Pointing over to the ziploc bag the cookies were stored in.

“Yeah, I made them yesterday. Had a feeling they were better here than sitting uneaten at my apartment.” You passed both items of food off to him.

No surprise to you, Javi went straight for the cookie, taking a giant bite, not bothering to finish chewing before he spoke. “These are so fucking good.”

“Javier, language! And chew with your mouth closed. You may have been raised on a ranch, but you weren’t born in a barn.” Chuchco scolded as you giggled.

“Sorry.” He grumbled sheepishly. “They’re delicious, Osita. So is the sandwich.” he spoke before taking another mouthful.

“Thanks, I had a feeling you’d like ‘em. So what can I help with after lunch is done?

“Osita, I already told you, you don’t need to help with anything.”

You crossed your arms, giving him a stern look. “You’re trying to tell me there’s not a single thing that I can help with? Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Well, I mean…” Chucho perked up, mid-bite on a handful of chips.

“Dad. Seriously?”

“What? She’s offering!”

“I am, thank you, Chucho. See, listen to your dad, Javi.” You shrugged and raised an eyebrow at him defiantly.

“Yes, Javier, listen to your father.” Chucho joined you in crossing his arms at his son, you and Chucho both laughing as Javi sighed. “Although I will agree with Javier on this one, mija. I have no doubt you are strong and willing to help, but I can’t ask you to help build this fence. Even with 6 grown men, this fence would have been hard to build. Although…”

“Pops, c’mon.”

“I wasn’t going to ask her to help with the fence, Javier.” He swatted his hand at his son in annoyance. Chucho turned back to look at you. “Mija, have you gardened before?” This got Javi’s attention. He sat up a little straighter and leaned in to what his dad had to say.

“Yes, actually! My mom had a garden of all kinds of things at our house when I was a kid. My brothers never wanted to take care of it because it was too girly, but I loved it.”

Chucho let a soft smile creep across his face. “Perfect. Mija, the flowers around the house could use a little love. Watering, weeding, trimming down. I know it does not seem like a big job but it has been on my to-do list and I just haven’t gotten to it yet. Too much longer and it will be a jungle and too much for my old knees to handle on my own. Would you mind helping with that?”

“Of course, I would love to!” You grinned, semi-relieved you weren’t going to have to embarrass yourself in front of Javi trying to pick up a post just to prove a point.

“Bueno! These sandwiches were delicious, mija. Thank you, again. Let me show you where the tools are and then we will all be back to work.”

You and Javi followed Chucho hand in hand to the small tool shed on the outside of the barn. He grabbed a bucket, placing a few items inside before handing it off to Javi, even though you insisted you could carry it. Chucho showed you his preferred method of clipping and trimming around the flowers, along with his favorite weeding shovel and where the hose was to water when you were done. The whole time you and Chucho were talking, Javi watched in silence, his heart bursting at the sight of you two milling around the garden. As Chucho finished with his directions, you turned back around to see Javi, wiping away what you assumed was just sweat from under his eyes.

“I think I got it all! Thanks, Chucho!”

“Of course, honey. We are out in the far left pasture, so if you need anything, you can call Javi’s phone from the future on our perfectly good phone in the house.”

“You have it out for cell phones, too? Must be a dad thing, mine is the same way. I’ll call if I need anything.” Chucho nodded as he began making his way back to the pasture, Javi lingering behind for a few more moments. “I never did get to properly say hello to you.” You smirked, pulling your fingers beneath the belt loops on Javi’s jeans, bringing him closer to you as you both leaned in for a long, sweet kiss.

“I think this hello works just fine.” Javi chuckled, his large hand cupping your face, calloused thumb rubbing back and forth against your cheek. “Thank you, Osita. This means so much to me. Meeting my dad, bringing food, offering to help. I just- Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m so glad I got to finally meet your dad. He’s hilarious. I think he was just worried that I was gonna be too strong helping with the fence and he didn’t want to embarrass you like that.”

“Pendejo.”

“You love it.”

“I do.”

I do. It was soft and tender and sweet and somehow screamed in your ear at the same time. It made your heart race and your cheeks flushed as he pulled the hand already resting on your jaw closer to his, the kiss between you so gentle, yet powerful all at once. It felt like your lips were barely touching, yet somehow it still felt like they were crashing together, like a wave on the beach in a stormy sea. You pulled away from each other, slow and breathless, eyes locking and mouths still hanging half open. A kiss that left you both dumbfounded and speechless.

“I uh, I should um, probably go help my dad.”

“Yeah, I um, yeah, I should probably get to work on these flowers.”

Both of your voices barely carried above a whisper. You slowly backed away from each other, stupid smiles spread across your cheeks as you bit down on your bottom lip to try and keep your grin from growing any wider.

“If you need anything just-“ He gestured down to his pocket where was carrying his phone.

“Just call your cell phone, I know.”

As Javi’s body turned to walk towards his dad, his eyes stayed glued on you. So much so, that neither of you noticed the garden bucket he was about to trip over before it was too late. With one wrong step, Javi lost his footing and took several tumbling steps before planting his hands on the ground and pushing himself back up to stand. You were trying your hardest not to burst out into laughter, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Stupid fucking bucket…” Javi mumbled to himself.

“Watch out for those buckets, they’ll getcha.” You yelled mockingly between your hysterical laughter.

“I didn’t see it.”

“Then watch where you’re going next time!”

“It isn’t that funny.”

“It is a little funny.” You still chuckled to yourself.

Out of witty responses, Javi only shook his head at you before disappearing behind the house. Around the corner, he found his father, also laughing in hysterics, barely getting his words out over his snorts.

“Got distracted by something while you were walking?”

“Fuck. Did you see that too?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, hijo.”

“Goddamnit.” Javi put one hand on his hip and the other palming his face.

“Ah, to be young and blinded by love again.” Chucho shook his head as he began walking out towards the field.

“Dad, please, for the love of-“ Javi pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose as Chucho cut off the rest of his sentence.

“I know, I know, I will leave it alone… for now.” He winked at Javi as the two men made their way back out into the field, Javi peeking around the house to take one last look at you before he left.

If there was one thing that you had learned since moving to Texas, it was that it got hot. Fast. You truly didn’t mind the heat- it beat the terrible midwest winters you had dealt with every year since childhood. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel like you slowly melting away only after a few hours out in the blazing sun. Beads of sweat pooled on your forehead as you clipped all of your hair up and out of your face, hating the feeling of it wet and sticky against your neck. Your shirt was practically drenched from the sun hitting your back for so long. You were thankful that you were getting closer to being finished, only leaving watering the flowers as your last step. If this was your own garden, you would have been weeding and trimming at a lightning fast pace, but something about the way Chucho had so tenderly clipped each branch and gently tugged each weed made you slow down and take your time with every step. Given the way you had watched Javi curiously perk up as his dad had offered you the task made you feel like this wasn’t a job that he would have offered to just anyone. The last thing you wanted to do was mess it up. As you made your way around the edge of the house, leaving only the last few bushes, you noticed a large, flat stone at the base of one of the hydrangea plants. You squatted down next to it, using your hand to dust off the dirt covering the top, plucking some weeds growing around the edges. Under the dirt, your fingers began to trace over indents in the rock that felt like letters. With a few more swipes of your hand, you were able to make out the words under the soil.

Lucia’s Garden

You sat there for a few moments, rubbing your fingers gently over the indents in the stone, lost in thought as you imagined the vibrant image of Javi’s mother amongst the equally bright and beautiful flower garden.

“Hey, Osita.” Even though the voice was soft and familiar, you had definitely not heard Javi creep up behind you, and when his strong and calloused hands rested on top of your shoulders, you just about jumped out of your skin.

“Ah! Jesus, what is it with the Peña men and absolutely scaring the shit out of me today?” You jumped up, catching your breath as Javi rested his hands on the outside of your arms as you turned towards him. He laughed softly to himself as you regained your composure. “I wasn’t expecting to see you for a while. Not that I’m mad about it, but I find it very unlikely you and your dad are already done with the fence. Unless you both have some crazy superpowers, besides sneaking up on people, that I don’t know about.”

He chuckled, as he placed his hand under your chin, tilting it up towards him as he gently wiped a smudge of dirt off of your cheek. “No, not done yet. But, I did just get a call that the guys who were supposed to come help. They’re back on the road and should be here soon, and they were able to bring a few extra people with them with building. So, I was able to convince Pops that they had enough help with the fence, that you could come help me do the rest of the chores around the ranch for the night, if you want.”

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna let me help with anything.” You crossed your arms and smirked at him, raising an eyebrow.

“I mean if you don’t wanna see the animals,” he said, putting a knowing emphasis on the word, “then that’s fine I guess-”

“Wait. That’s what this is?! We get to go see the animals?! Why didn’t you say that first, dummy, let’s go!” You shrieked, practically dragging Javi away.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so excited to feed cows.”

“AND we get to feed them?! This is really turning out to be way better than anything I had planned.”

“You’re ridiculous, Osita.” He laughed as he smiled at you, finding it both hilarious and absolutely adorable at how excited you were. Here you were, covered in dirt and sweat, practically begging him to walk through a smelly barn to feed even smellier animals, all because it meant you got to be with him. Him. He truly needed someone to pinch him, because he was convinced he had to be dreaming. Well, if he was, he guessed he could let that dream keep going just a little longer.

“I don’t understand how you don’t think this is the coolest thing. What do we have to do first?” You looked up at him, eyes glistening with excitement.

“We'll stop at the barn and get some hay and feed, then take the truck out to them.”

“What are we waiting for then? Let’s go!”

You both hopped into Javi’s truck and headed towards the barn. While it was only less than a minute away, Javi wasted no time gripping his hand over your bare thigh, stroking his thumb back and forth over your skin as he drove.

“Do you wanna wait in here while I get stuff?” He asked gently as he put the truck in park pulling up to the barn, still rubbing his hand against your knee.

“That is the stupidest question you have asked me all day. If I’m here to help, I want the full Peña Ranch experience.” You quickly unbuckled yourself as you opened the passenger door, sliding out. Javi shook his head and laughed to himself as he followed behind you.

“You really want the full experience?” He stood facing you, arms crossed over his chest with a smug look on his face.

“Yes! I told you, I’m here to help. Don’t take it easy on me, Peña.” You mirrored his stance, leaning into your hip and shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay.” He chuckled as he opened the barn door and then stood back to lean against the back of the truck. “We need four bales of hay and 2 buckets of feed. All you, Osita.” He motioned to the barn wall, stacked high with bales of hay from end to end.

“Easy.” You reached your hands above your head to stretch before you walked over to the hay, Javi standing and watching. “How heavy can they be? It’s just hay!” You leaned over the closest bale, reaching down to the two strings binding it together to pick it up. Oh shit. This was WAY heavier than you thought, but there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, you grimaced your face as you tried to lift the bale as high off the ground as you could, shuffling awkwardly towards the truck. You let out a much louder than intended grunt as you heaved the bale of hay up into the truck bed, letting out a few deep breaths and putting your hands on your hips after you finished, trying as hard as you could to play off the fact that the task was much more difficult than expected. “See?” Your words heavy between each pant. “Easy.’

“Do you want to go get the buckets of feed while I finish the hay? Or was it so easy that you wanna do the rest of them?” Javi smirked.

“I mean, I guess if I’m getting the full experience, I should probably learn how to get the feed too. ” You replied, trying to hide the fact you were still trying to catch your breath.

“Okay, Osita, whatever you say.” He winked, smirk still spread across his face. “There’s some barrels back there labeled with feed. You can put 3 scoops in the red bucket and 3 in the blue. Should be easy.” He leaned down to give you a quick kiss before making his way over to the hay bales.

“Pendejo…” You muttered to yourself.

“You love it.” He teased, easily lifting a bale and tossing it into the truck.

Thankfully, the feed was nowhere near as heavy as the hay, and you were able to carry both buckets over to the truck where Javi was waiting for you. “You want me to put those in the truck for you, or are they easy too?” Javi mocked, clearly getting enjoyment out of your stubbornness.

“Oh shut up, I just wasn’t expecting the hay to be that heavy.” Your grumbles and defeat quickly turning into giggles and smiles as Javi lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the truck bed, his arms placed outside your hips as he leaned in to pepper you with ticklish kisses across your neck and face. “It would be so much harder to be mad at you if you weren’t the hottest cowboy I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know I had a thing for them until you showed up all hot and sweaty and handsome and I’ve been trying so hard to not get distracted, especially considering we’re hanging out with your dad, but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

“You don’t think it’s been any easier for me watching you just walk around in those jean shorts all day? Jesus, Osita, you’re fucking killing me.” He planted another hot, wet kiss on your neck as his hands shifted, running up and down your thighs. You could feel heat flushing over your cheeks as you felt arousal build in your belly.

“Javi, we cannot do this here, we’re at your dad’s house. I want him to like me, I don’t need him to catch us screwing around here.” Your breaths slowly turned into moans, making your argument less and less convincing to Javi as he had his fingertips gripping into your hips, pulling you close to him as his kisses crept up your neck and along your jaw.

“He already loves you, hermosa. Don’t worry, I have it figured out. You’ll see.” He pulled his lips off you, suddenly, winking before walking away towards the driver’s side door, leaving you sitting on the truck bed, worked up and desperate.

“Wait, woah, what? What do you mean you have it figured out? You can’t just do that and walk away!” You scrambled off the truck bed, hopping into the truck with him.

“C’mon, Osita. We have cows to feed, remember?” With the way this man kissed you, you were lucky if you could remember your name after he was done.

Feeding cows and sexual tension were two things that you would have never thought would have gone hand in hand, but here you were, barely holding it together as you looked over at Javi. His aviators perched on his strong nose, gray shirt stretching across his broad shoulders, the width of his hands around your leg? You sure hope whatever mystery he had planned was coming soon because your self restraint was starting to run thin. That was, until you looked out the truck.

“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME THERE WERE BABY COWS?” You practically jumped out of the passenger door as the truck pulled to a stop, speeding up to the fence where four calves were waiting for you. “Can I pet them? They’re so cute!” You hadn’t even bothered to help Javi haul the food out of the truck bed as you reached out to scratch the bridges of each little cow’s nose.

“I figured you’d like these guys. Hola, chiquitos. Tienes hambre? (Hi, little ones. Are you hungry?). He cooed in a sweet, soft voice that made your heart melt. “Do you wanna feed them while I take care of the others?”

“Is this gonna be another hay bale situation?” You joked sarcastically, scratching under one of the cow’s chins.

“No, this one is actually fun. Hold on.” He went back over to the truck, pulling out 4 large bottles that he must have grabbed while you were getting the rest of the feed. “They’re not old enough for grain feed yet, so they’re still bottle fed.” He passed one of the containers off to you, before grabbing his own to demonstrate. “All you have to do is hold it with both hands and let them drink out of it until it’s empty. Each calf gets one. They’re cute, but don’t let ‘em fool you, they’re still strong, and very hungry.”

“Got it.” You replied, taking the bottle in both hands, the calves beginning to moo as they caught a glimpse of their food. You held it up as the cow’s tongues shot out of their mouths before one of them latched on to the bottle. You giggled as the calf sucked out of the container, Javi smiling at your enjoyment as he grabbed a bale and made his way further down the fence to feed the rest of the herd.

“Ringo is very strong.” You grunted, gripping on to your final bottle as Javi approached you again, finished with his feeding duties. “At least he’s nicer than George, he tried to bite John and Paul when it was their turn to eat!”

“Hermosa, who are you talking about?” Javi laughed, amused at the sight of you trying to keep the calf from ripping the bottle out of your hands.

“The cows! They needed better names than 6, 14, 27 and 31, which was all their tags said. And there’s four of them, so I figured they could be the Beatles! John, Paul, Ringo and George!”

“Normally, we don’t name them, it’s too hard to keep track of, that’s why they have numbers. Also, all these calves are girls.” He still laughed to himself as he leaned down to pick up the empty bottles and put them back in the truck.

“Oh… Well, it doesn’t matter, I think their names are still cute, who cares. More fun than the numbers.” You nudged Javi playfully as you pulled the empty bottle away before throwing in the truck bed with the others. “Bye, Beatles!” You waved at the cows before hopping back into the truck.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Well at least I’m your dork.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you are. You ready to head back?”

“Let’s go cowboy.”

As you headed down the dirt path, you could see the sun slowly starting to dip beneath the clouds, painting the sky to a beautiful orange and pink. You leaned over the center console, resting your head on Javi’s shoulder, as you snaked your arm under his, gently squeezing his hand as your fingers interlocked. There was something so peaceful and perfect about the moment, how you could almost feel the threads of each of your lives slowly becoming more intertwined with each moment you spent together. You could spend a million more nights just like these just sitting by his side, driving anywhere to do anything. It didn’t matter, as long as you were with him. You were so caught up in the beautiful fantasy of the moment, that you hadn’t even heard him over your daydreaming.

“Hermosa?”

“Sorry, what did you say?” You shook your head, coming to.

“I uh, I know you’ve already spent a lot of time here today with me and my dad, so you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I was um, wondering if you wanted to stay for dinner? Maybe spend the night here?” He shifted slightly in his seat, his fingers tapping anxiously on the steering wheel as he looked at you with his sweet, puppy dog eyes.

“Really?” Your face lit up instantly, thrilled by the fact Javi wanted to spend more time with him and his dad.

“Yeah, like I said, um, don’t feel like you have to, but-”

“Javi.” You paused, gazing back at him. “I would love to.” You gave his hand a reassuring squeeze as you leaned back over to rest your head against him again as you pulled back up to the house. As Javi put the truck in park and you pushed on the handle to open the door to hop out, you felt a tug against your wrist, drawing you back in. You turned back, Javi’s eyes looking you up and down, his tongue darting out between his lips before clenching his jaw. Without saying a word, you shifted back in your seat, Javi’s hands engulfing your face, as he pulled you in, meeting his lips with yours. As your mouths crashed into each other, you could feel your heart race, electricity flowing through your veins, feeling Javi pull you closer to him. There was something so desperate about it, like he was holding in something he wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he just couldn’t say.

I want you. I need you. I love you.

You hoped those were the words sealed between his kisses. You hoped he felt the plea of your kiss, too.

I want you, too. I need you, too. I love you, too.

As you both slowly pulled away, your heavy breaths mingled in the few inches left between your parted lips, Javi’s traced soft and tender circles around the line of your jaw.

“I really like you, Osita.”

“I really like you too, Javi.”

Those were the best words you could muster from the silent screams of your kiss. Those words would have to do, for now.

“Do you wanna head inside? I’m sure your dad’s probably waiting for us.” You asked, regrettably.

“I really don’t want to, but we probably should.” He huffed as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, giving you one last kiss on the head before you made your way in the house.

As you entered through the front door, you could already hear Chucho in the kitchen tinkering with pots and pans and singing along to the Spanish radio station in the background. “So, do we have a guest for dinner?” Chucho spoke in between lines of the song, hearing that you and Javi had come through the front door.

“If that’s okay?” You replied, now making your way into the kitchen to see the array of food that Chucho had spread across the countertops.

“More than okay, mija. I’d hope you’d stay.” He said with a soft smile as he wiped his hands the apron he was wearing, worn and faded letters across the front reading “Besar a Cocinero” (kiss the cook).

Rubbing his hand against the small of your back (grazing dangerously close over ass) as he stood behind you, Javi looked down and smiled. “Osita, do you wanna take a shower before dinner? I can throw all your clothes in the wash too if you want?”

“What? Are you saying I smell bad?” You took a step back, crossing your arms against your chest.

“Well, no, I mean, uh-” Javi tripped over his words.

“Javi, oh my gosh, I’m just kidding.” You said, playfully swatting at him. “I know I probably smell like a troll, so a shower would be great. I didn’t bring any extra clothes, though.”

“A cute troll, at least.” Javi laughed, having to remind himself that the majority of the things that came out of your mouth were completely unserious. “You can borrow some of mine until yours are clean. Here, I’ll show you where the shower is.” He took you by the hand as he led you down the hallway, stopping at the first door on the right, leading into Javi’s bedroom. His room was neat and minimal, not much in it besides his bed, dresser, desk and a bookshelf with some scattered picture frames and a few unpacked boxes in one of the corners. You stood there for a moment, looking around at the space as Javi walked across the room to open the door where his bathroom was. “Shower’s in there, towel’s hanging up on the door, and I’ll set some clothes out for you on the bed when you’re done.”

“Thanks.” You smiled as you bit down on your lip, taking a slight step towards him. “You um, probably want my clothes I’m wearing right now for the laundry, right?”

You had been trying so hard to not completely fall apart at the sight of Javi all day. Especially with wanting to make a good impression on his dad, it took everything in you to keep yourself from crawling all over him from the minute you walked through the door. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it right now, but Javi’s not so subtle point to close and lock his bedroom door also hadn’t gone unnoticed. Slowly, you stretched your arms over your head to strip your T-shirt, dropping it on the floor as Javi’s jaw went slack, his eyes undressing you faster than you could undress yourself. You undid the button and zipper to your shorts, pushing them down your hips as they dropped around your ankles, leaving you in just your bra and underwear, and Javi just about speechless.

“Fuck me.” He whispered to himself as he stepped into you, wrapping his arms around your waist, his big hands sliding up your back as he unclipped your bra, helping it slide off your shoulders before tossing it into the pile of the rest of your clothes. You let out a silent moan as he kissed down your chest, his tongue flicking against each of your pebbled nipples as his hands worked down your hips, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs before they fell to the floor. You could feel his bulge straining against the denim of his jeans pressed against your leg as he ran his hands up and down your curves, planting hot and heavy kisses across your body. You wished so badly that he could toss you on his bed and fuck you right then and there, but you had to keep reminding yourself that his dad was only a few feet from Javi’s room before you got too carried away, a fact that Javi seemed to have forgotten given the way he was all over you.

You outstretched your neck to nip at his ear letting out a long and shaky breath before you whispered. “I think you got all the clothes you need, I’m gonna get in the shower now.” You gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as you pulled away from his grasp, shooting him a quick wink as you giggled, closing the door to the bathroom. You left Javi standing in the middle of his room, breathless and riled up as he stood next to the pile of your clothes on the floor. He placed one hand on his hip, the other running through the dark locks of his hair before reaching down to grab your clothes as he mumbled to himself.

“God, I’m so fucked.”

You felt like a new person stepping out of the shower now that you had scrubbed yourself clean of the dirt, sweat and grime from the day. You wrapped yourself up in the fluffy navy blue towel that Javi had left for you, drying the damp ends of your hair before opening the door to step back into Javi’s bedroom. Sitting on top of the plaid comforter that covered his bed, you noticed a pile of clothes Javi had left for you with a post it note placed on top. You picked it up, laughing to yourself as you read it.

Hope these clothes are okay. Sweatshirt and sweatpants are for later, gets cold outside at night. FYI, payback’s a bitch.

See you soon, beautiful,

-J

Wondering what Javi had planned for outside, you set the gray sweatpants and maroon crewneck aside, picking up the white t-shirt with “Texas A&M Swimming” written across the front. You slipped it on over your head before shuffling on the black pair of cotton sleep shorts Javi had left for you, rolling them up a few times so they didn’t slide down your waist. You reached for the doorknob of the bedroom, opening it slightly as you heard Javi and his dad’s voices from the kitchen, listening in on their conversation.

“I know Dad, believe me. I’ll tell her, just… I can’t yet. I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

“Well don’t take too long. She is a special girl, Javier. You and I both know it. Don’t you think there was a reason I let her tend to your mamá’s garden? You know very well I don’t trust just anyone with Lucia’s flowers. I barely trust you. She would always tell me how much she couldn’t wait for you to bring home a woman you loved, a daughter to have to spend time with there. Dios la bendiga (God bless her), I wish she could have met her. Your mother would have loved her. You two are perfect for each other. Ella es tú media naranja. (She is your better half, your soulmate). I know you love her, Javier. I find it very hard to believe that she doesn’t love you too.”

I want to tell her. I know you love her. She loves you too.

The words rung in your ears as your heart felt like it was going to pound out of your chest. Your mouth hung open as heat crept up your cheeks, your mouth stretching with the widest, stupidest grin. Holy shit. Part of you wished you hadn’t heard it, only because now it was taking every ounce of you to not bust through the door, kiss his sweet face and tell him how much you loved him too. Thank God there was a part of your lovestruck brain that still had some sense of awareness left to it, as you heard the thumps of Javi’s footsteps towards the door, followed by a “I’m just gonna see if she needs anything before I get in the shower.” You scrambled back from the door, trying to do anything you could to make it look like you hadn’t just overheard the conversation in the kitchen. You pretended to fold your damp towel as Javi opened the door, leaning against the frame.

“Hey, you’re done! Shower okay? Tried to find whatever I could I thought would fit you best.”

“Yeah, great! Shower was great, clothes fit great, everything is great. Perfect.” The words spilled out of your mouth in the least casual way possible, sounding frantic and panicked as they fell from your lips.

“Osita, you okay? Are the clothes not comfortable? I can get you different ones? Or if you’re worried about spending time with just you and my dad while I’m in the shower, I-”

You cut him off, standing up on your tiptoes and balling up the shirt covering his chest in your fists as you reached up to press your lips into his, lingering for as long as you could before breaking away. “I’m sorry, everything is perfect. Seriously. You just surprised me when you came in. I’m excited to spend time with your dad and the clothes are just fine. Not sure what I’m gonna need these sweatpants and sweatshirt for but I’m excited to find out.”

He let out a small huff of relief as he ran his fingers through the wet ends of your hair before kissing the top of your head. “Like I said, I’ve got it all taken care of, you’ll see. I just have to shower real quick, and Pops said food should be done real soon. Does that work?”

“Absolutely. Have a good shower, ya stinky cowboy.” You winked as you gave his butt a quick squeeze before heading out into the kitchen.

“Ah, Mija!” Chucho’s cheerful greeting making you smile as he milled around the kitchen, whistling along to the upbeat song on the radio. “I hope you’re hungry! It seems like I am getting in the habit of making way too much food. I am glad we have an extra mouth with us tonight to help us.”

“I’m glad to be here! I’m starving. Is there anything else you need help with?” You asked, looking around at even more photos that hung in the kitchen, quickly realizing how fond Chucho was of displaying his loved ones in every inch of the house. You caught a glimpse of another photo of Javi hanging above the dining room table, this one of him in a cap and gown, holding his diploma as he stood next to his mother and father, proud looks beaming across their faces. Chucho noticed you staring, his heart warmed by the genuine interest you seemed to have of his life in photos spread across his home.

“No, honey. Already finished, just cleaning up a few things, but that can wait for later. That’s when Javier graduated from college. We were so proud of him.” He gestured, pointing over to the picture you were staring at.

“Yeah, I bet. You can tell from the picture how happy you are for him. It’s very sweet.” You smiled, seeing how much both of his parents loved and cared for Javi.

“Do you want to see more?” You turned around to face Chucho, almost giddy with excitement.

“More what? More pictures? Yes please!” You grinned.

“Perfecto. Take a seat, Mija, I’ll be right back.” He pointed over to the kitchen chair as he made his way over to the living room, rustling around and returning with 4 large stacks of photo albums. “I’m glad you asked about these now, Javier would kill me if he saw me getting all of these out for you, but they are too good not to share. Here, start with this one.” He opened up the first book with a worn, brown leather cover, flipping to the first page. It was filled with pictures of Javi’s mom, still pregnant and setting up the nursery, followed by newborn Javi, face scrunched and covered in a dark brown head of hair. “Lucia was so excited when she found out she was pregnant. We had tried for so long, and by some miracle, along came sweet Javier. Oh, did she love him.” He spoke as you continued flipping through the pages, smiling with each turn, honored to hear about Javi’s life, long before your paths crossed. “Oh, this is a good one!” He stopped you, pointing to a photo of Javi, who couldn’t have been older than 3 or 4, sitting on top of a cow with a sweet, toothy grin. “He’s always loved animals. He would cry every night, mamácita, papácita, mas vacas, por favor! (Mommy, Daddy, more cows, please!) because he loved listening to those cows moo so much.”

“That’s so adorable. It’s so nice that you have so many photos of him.” You smiled, opening up the next book on the table.

“Good to have memories of all of the moments that live in your heart.” Chucho sighed as you flipped to a photo of Javi blowing out candles on a birthday cake, sitting on his mother’s lap, as she cheered for her son.

“Jesus, Pops, are you serious?” Javi rolled his eyes as he strolled into the kitchen, setting down your extra sweatpants and shirt on the counter before running his towel through his damp curls, knowing exactly what his dad was up to.

“Javi, you were such a cute kid! What happened?” You and Chucho snickered to yourself as Javi put a hand on his hip, running his tongue across his teeth, trying his best to not give away the fact he couldn’t have been happier to see how well the two of you were getting along.

“Fine, fine. Looks like we’ve been busted, Mija. We’ll save the rest of these for another time.” He chuckled as he scooped up the photo books, bringing them back to the living room.

“You’re no fun.” You nudged Javi, as he stood next to you, now freshly showered and wearing a dark blue shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants that were about to make you fall out of your chair.

“You should be thanking me. I’m saving you from all the awful, awkward photos of me from after I was a cute kid.”

“But those are the best ones! Besides, with how handsome you are, I have a very hard time believing you ever went through an awkward stage.”

“And that’s why the rest of the photo books are getting put away.” He laughed as rested his hands on your shoulders as he stood behind your chair. “Dinner ready, Pops?”

“Sí, on the counter, in the bag ready to go.” He pointed to the counter where a large brown paper sat.

“Wait,” You paused, confused by the exchange. “Why is it in a bag? I thought we were eating dinner together here?” Your brows scrunched in surprise as you looked back and forth between Javi and his dad.

“Don’t worry about me, mija. I’ve already taken up too much of your time. Besides, señor romance tiene otros planes.” (Mr. Romance has other plans).

“Oh, so what are these plans, Mr. Romance?” You giggled, you and Chucho equally enjoying the embarrassing Hell you had both put him through today.

“Jesus Christ. Alright, we’re going now, bye Pops.” He mumbled as he grabbed the extra clothes and food from the counter, you following close behind him as you made your way to the front door.

“Alright, so where are we off too, Mr. Romance?” You giggled as Javi started up the truck after throwing the food and clothes in the backseat. “I hope whatever you’re doing is because you think I don’t want to spend time with your dad.”

“Osita, that is the least of my worries. You two together are turning out to be a much bigger pain in my ass than I ever expected.” He joked as the two of you laughed, both relieved by how well you had been getting along with his dad. “No I just, I know I said it before, but I’m so glad you came today. You didn’t have to do any of this, no one… no one’s ever done anything like this for me before. Just, I don’t, I, um-”

You slipped your fingers between his free hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Of course, Javi.” Had no one ever really done something this nice for him? In your mind, today couldn’t have been an easier decision. You were so glad that he was letting you into his life- to meet his dad, to see where he grew up, to learn more about his past and what shaped him into the man that had your heart. It killed you to think that something like this was something he’d never had. “So, is this what you kept telling me you had planned today? Where are we going? Are we eating there? Is it outside?”

“Jesus, you really do hate surprises, don’t you? Remind me to never throw you a surprise birthday party. Don’t worry, you’ll see. You trust me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Good. Close your eyes.”

“Close my eyes, what are you-”

“Osita, please.”

“Fine, fine.”

You leaned your head back over onto his shoulder, closing your eyes as you drove in a comfortable silence, bright golden sunset spilling into the windows of the truck as traveled along the worn dirt path. Between a gap in the fencing along the side of the gravel road, Javi turned, driving the truck through part of the open field before swinging it around, turning the front of the car facing the direction you came.

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

“What happened to you being so patient? Keep them closed, give me one minute.”

“Not even a little peek?”

“Osita…”

“Okay, okay, no peeking, I swear!” You kept your eyes shut as you heard the door close on Javi’s side of the truck, the backdoor also opening and closing after he shuffled around, grabbing what you assumed were the things from the backseat. You heard the bed of the truck slam down before Javi was back rustling around in the front of the truck, reaching over your lap into the CD’s. You could hear him quickly pick one out before sliding it into the CD player, the “Rumors” album by Fleetwood Mac now playing over the speakers.

“Good pick.” You smiled, eyes still shut tight. “You almost done yet, Mr. Romance? Or is this how I finally go? You’ve hid the axe murderer act long enough and now you’re gonna bury me out in the field, never to be seen again? I guess it is clever on your part.” You laughed to yourself, knowing what the look on Javi’s face must have been as he rolled his eyes at you, even if yours were still scrunched shut. You heard him shuffle out, opening your side of the car.

“Give me your hand, you dork.” You felt his palm under yours as your fingers wrapped around his wrist as his other hand held your hip, helping you scoot out of the truck. He guided you to take a few steps before releasing your hand. “Okay, now you can open.”

You wanted to give him some witty remark, a sarcastic jab, anything to give him a hard time about how he had made you wait for whatever this mystery surprise was, but as you opened your eyes, you were left speechless. Looking out in front of you, you saw nothing but miles of green grass, hills rolling up and down along the horizon as far as the eye could see as the sunset bursted with a ferocious orange and pink glow, peeking just above the clouds, slowly getting ready to sink into the land below. “Javi…” You paused for a moment as you took in the view. “This is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it is.” With Javi standing behind you, you assumed that he too, was taking in the spectacular view. And to him, he was. It just wasn't the sunset that he was referring to.

You turned around, remembering the rustling you had heard in the backseat, wondering what Javi had been doing in the truck bed. The back of the truck was filled with blankets and pillows with Chucho’s bag of food sitting on the edge. Still speechless, you stared back at Javi awestruck by the moment. “C’mere.” He said, patting the truck bed, lifting you up and following close behind you. You both snuggled in under the blankets, Javi wrapping his arm around you as you laid into his chest, watching the sun slowly fade away behind the clouds. “Good surprise?” He leaned into you, his fingers tracing gentle circles along your arm.

“Great surprise.”

Reaching his hand across your body, he cupped the side of your face, turning it toward his as his lips gently pressed against yours. He pulled back for a moment, foreheads pressed against each other, mouths barely separated, like he was looking for the right words to say but he just couldn’t find them. “Kiss me.” You whispered. “Kiss me, Javi.”

You could feel your weight shift as Javi rolled you over, his body now hovering over yours as your mouths crashed together in a way that was deep and intense without being frantic or rushed. His tongue dipped in your mouth, your lips parted between soft, breathy moans, pressing his body deeper into yours with each kiss. “Javi…” You whined, ache building between your legs as you felt his length pressed against you from his sweatpants, already hard and heavy against your thigh. He slowly began to make his way down your body, hot, wet kisses covering your belly as he pushed your shirt further up your body. He tugged at the waistband of your shorts, carefully helping you shimmy them down as his hand dipped between your legs, his fingers barely grazing against your entrance. “Javi, pleaseeee.” You moaned again, begging to have him do something to ease the throbbing burning in your core.

The sweet whispers of his name on your lips made his cock twitch. Early today, after you had wrecked him in his bedroom, teasing him as you stripped your clothes in front of him before getting in the shower, he was going to take his sweet time, making you beg for his touch. But as he took you in, every beautiful inch of you, his willpower crumbled in an instant. He wanted nothing more than to fuck you slow and deep, for you to feel all of him, to watch you come undone as you whispered his name, pulling him closer and closer into you with each stroke. He wanted to fuck you so that you could feel those 3 words he just couldn’t say to you yet.

“I know, baby.” His fingertips pressing just a little further, feeling how absolutely soaked you already were. “Wanna take my time with you, okay? Wanna make you feel good.” His voice sent shivers down your spine as you nodded, his fingers now slowly sinking deeper into you, making your back arch from his touch. He kissed along the inside of your thighs as his calloused thumb began to gently rub around your clit, his fingers already drenched as they began to steadily rock in and out of you. His kisses made their way from your thighs to your clit as he carefully flicked his tongue, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm underneath him. “Always so wet for me, pretty girl.” The hot breath of his words danced along your heat as his dark brown eyes locked with yours. He dipped his head back down, licking a long, broad strip against your bundle of nerves as you rocked your hips back and forth over his fingers. His tongue swirled around your clit, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart as you moaned with each touch.

“It feels so good, Javi. Fuck, babyyyy.” You whined, feeling your cunt clenching tighter and tighter around his thick fingers as his mouth worked its magic between your legs. With each thrust of his hand and lap of his tongue, you could feel yourself getting closer and closer, the pressure in your stomach starting to build, your breaths heavy and shaky.

“I know you’re close, Osita. Let go, baby. Come for me. I got you.” He knew his words were just what you needed to send you over the edge. With a few more thrusts of his hands, he could feel your pussy flutter around his fingers.

“Javi, Javi, Javi, Jaaahhhhh-” You whimpered as you felt the heat grow at the base of your spine, pleasure shooting through your body as you came around his fingers, your jaw slack as you felt your legs shake.

“Such a good girl for me, Hermosa. My good fucking girl. Tastes so sweet, baby.” He praised, slowly pulling his hand out of your heat, dipping his fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. He sat up on his knees, still between your legs, the outline of his already hard dick pressed against his sweatpants as he pushed them down his hips before pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. He leaned back down over you, grabbing one of the blankets by his feet to cover your bodies.

“Are you afraid a cow’s gonna see your bare ass?” You giggled, still coming down from your high as you gestured to the blanket now covering both of you. His arms outstretched outside of your shoulders as you laid on your back, he joined in your laughter, dropping his forehead down and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re ridiculous, Osita. Fuck, I love it. I love everything about you. Fuck. You’re fucking perfect.” He stared at you for a moment, his sweet brown eyes taking in all of you, like he couldn’t believe you were real. That you were his.

He swallowed, his mouth parted like there was more he was desperate to say but couldn’t quite get out. You pushed your head up off of the pillow underneath you, gently pressing his lips against yours, his hand shifting you cradle the back of your head, his fingers tugging at the ends of your hair as he set you back down. He shifted back slightly, using his hand to stroke himself a few times before flushing his hips against yours, his cock lined up with your entrance. Neither of you said anything, feeling at a loss for words in the moment, both of you silently seeming to agree that something about now felt different than all the other times before. You barely nodded your head as Javi slowly sank into you, taking his time, letting you adjust to him inch by inch before bottoming out, stopping for a moment as you let out a soft moan that Javi quickly swallowed with a kiss. He began to rock his hips back and forth, taking his time, gradually filling you deeper and harder with each thrust, his whispers hot against your neck.

“Fuck baby, I’ll never get enough of you. My fuckin’ perfect girl.”

“Javiiiii” You whined, your arms wrapping around back, nails pressing into his shoulders as his cock hit the spot inside you that lit you ablaze. His hand snaked between your bodies, reaching down to rub your clit, still slow, taking his time with each graze of his fingertips as his pace held deep and steady. Every thrust in and out of his hips had you wrecked as he filled you so deeply and intensely, moaning his name as you wrapped your legs around the small of his back, doing anything you could to bring him closer to you.

“I know, Hermosa, I know. Does it feel good, baby? Knowing you’re mine? That you’re the only one I ever wanna make feel like this?”

His words had you whimpering as he nipped at your neck, his hand gripping on your hip, thrusts becoming faster from your sounds. “Oh my god, yes, Javi. Fuck, it’s all yours. I’m all yours.” You wanted nothing more, for him to be the only one whose sweet words made you fall apart, the only one who ever came close to making you feel this way. You could feel the coil in your belly beginning to snap as the pad of his thumb rubbed rapidly against your clit, his cock driving into you as your vision went white.

“I know you’re close, Osita. I can feel it. Wanna see you when you come. Wanna see your beautiful face, pretty girl.” The brown pools of his eyes filled with want and need as they locked with yours. You could feel your foreheads touching, his damp curls brushing against you with each push of his hips, your bodies melting into each other as you felt the coil inside your belly snap.

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, baby, I’m gonna, gonna-.” Your orgasm flooded through your body, pleasure shooting through every inch of you as you wrapped yourself around Javi. It was so intense, the way the feeling crashed through you, how everything about him had you completely wrecked, how tightly you could feel yourself clenching around his length as you came.

Watching you come completely undone under him, Javi found himself quickly falling apart at the sight of you. Each stroke was faster and sloppier than the last, like he was desperate to show you how badly he wanted you, needed you. He could feel the sweet tingle of his release building, his brain going blank as the words fell from his mouth. “That’s it baby. Fuck, Osita. Gonna cum so deep inside you, fuck you full of me. Fuck, I can’t believe you’re mine. Soy tuyo, Osita. Mi corazón es tuyo. Es todo para ti. Eres mi todo, Osita. Te am-ahhhhhh.” (I’m yours, Osita. My heart is yours. It’s all for you. You’re my everything. I love yo-). He could feel each throb of his cock pulsing as he spilled into you, riding out his high with short, shallow thrusts, making sure every last drop of him was inside your walls. He melted into you, his body collapsing onto yours as your heavy breathes synced, chests rising and falling together.

You paused for a moment before you spoke. You replayed his words in your head over and over again, not sure what you were trying to convince yourself of. You weren’t sure of everything he had said, trying to piece together the Spanish you knew as you came down from your high, but if there was one sentence you knew for sure, it was the last one, even if it had gone unfinished.

Te amo. I love you.

“Javi…” You paused, your heart practically beating out of your chest. “What was the last part you said?”

Javi froze. You could feel his Adam’s apple bob against your chest as he swallowed, his head still buried in your neck. You waited for what felt like an eternity before he pressed himself off you, rolling over, laying beside you. “I uh, I don’t, um, I don’t remember all of it.” He tripped over his words, eyes scrunched tight, like he couldn’t bear to look at you out of fear of what he had said.

“Javi. Javier Jesús Peña. Please. Please tell me what you said.” You placed your hand on his chest, forcing him to open his eyes and look at you, your face pleading, practically begging to hear the words that had fallen from his lips once more.

“I’m yours, Osita. My heart is yours. It’s all for you. You’re my everything. I… Fuck.” You could see the tears welling behind his eyes after he ran his hand over his face. You moved your hand from his chest to under his jaw, cradling his cheek.

“Javi… Say it. Please.” Your words met his ears barely above a whisper. He paused, taking one more trembling breath, staring off into space for a moment, like he was praying with everything he had left in him that you really did want to hear it.

“Osita… Fuck. I… I love you.”

“Javi,” Your voice shook as you felt the tears trickle down your cheeks, rounding and red from the grin growing across your face. “I love you too.”

It was only for a moment that you saw his face mirror yours before you could feel his hands grasping around your face, pulling you in for a kiss that made you feel like fireworks were exploding inside you. He squeezed his arms around you, a mix of laugher and tears leaving your body as he pulled you on top of him, wrapping you in his embrace.

“Really?” He questioned, his words still shaky as he smiled at you, running his trembling hands through your hair.

“Of course, Pendejo. Of course I do.” You both laid there for a moment, breathing in sighs of relief and joy, soaking in every moment of that four letter word. You loved him. He loved you. Javier Peña loved you.

You rolled over, both of your bodies curled in the blanket on top of you, staring into the sky, now fading into a deep darkness, speckled with spots of shining stars above you. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Nothing else besides the two of you. Up until now, there were few things in life that you had been sure of. On a Wednesday in late May, you knew one of those sure things was that you had fallen head over heels in love with Javier Peña. And now, you knew one of those sure things was that Javier Peña loved you too.

..............

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